A knife in the pregnant Luna’s belly.

All evidence points to the Alpha’s scorned concubine.

Althea didn’t do it.

But no one will believe the wolfless omega who was rejected, humiliated, and made his slave.
So she runs—straight into the Red Mist and into the jaws of the one creature that even the Alpha hunting her fears.

---

Thorne Vargan, the Hellhound of the North Clan, swore bloody retribution on everyone responsible for destroying all he had ever known—especially the woman who beheaded his mother.

As fate would twist it, that woman’s daughter stumbles into his hellish domain…

And Thorne is not letting her go.

He claims her. 

As captive.
As leverage.
As vengeance.

But the fates have a different tale to weave as something in him hungers for her in ways far more dangerous than hate.

Her scent tempts him.
Her fear intrigues him.
Her secrets threaten to set his blood—and the entire pack system—on fire.

And while Thorne pins her to his world with claws and shadow, the Alpha she fled is coming.

He wants his little omega back.

Ivanka stepped forward, her voice sharp and cutting. "The betrothal stands. It has always stood. This... creature... is nothing but a knot in the threads of fate, something twisted and wrong that needs to be cut away before it tangles everything we've built."


I went still, my wolf snarling beneath my skin at the presumption, at the audacity of them speaking as if they had any claim over what the Moon had decided. "The betrothal," I said flatly, "was made by our grandmothers. Not by me. Not by the Moon."


Chapter 21 - Choice