The moon hung heavy and swollen in the sky, bathing the hidden glade in silver light that felt almost tangible. Jennie sat motionless on the fallen log, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the coiling shadows that danced at the edges of the clearing.
They weren't ordinary shadows.
They moved against the wind, curling like smoke around her ankles, brushing her skin with a cool, feather-light touch that sent shivers up her spine. Not fear—something else. Recognition. Belonging.
Awaken.
The word echoed again in her mind, wordless yet crystal clear, as if the moon itself had spoken.
Jennie lifted one trembling hand. A tendril of darkness rose to meet it, wrapping gently around her fingers like a living thing. It was cold, soothing, and utterly obedient. When she flexed her wrist, the shadow flexed with her.
A breathless laugh escaped her lips—half wonder, half disbelief.
For the first time in her life, something answered when she reached out.
But the moment shattered with the snap of a twig beyond the glade.
Jennie's head whipped toward the sound. The shadows vanished instantly, sinking back into the underbrush as though they had never been. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Three figures emerged from the trees—Lydia and two of her closest followers, Mia and Serena. All three wore smug smiles, their eyes gleaming with predatory delight under the moonlight.
"Well, well," Lydia drawled, arms folded beneath her chest. "Look what wandered off like a lost little pup."
Jennie rose slowly, brushing pine needles from her dress. She kept her expression neutral, but inside, her stomach knotted. Being cornered by Lydia alone was bad enough. With her cronies, it was worse.
"I was just heading back," Jennie said quietly.
Mia snorted. "Back to what? Scrubbing floors? No one even noticed you were gone."
Serena circled to Jennie's left, sniffing dramatically. "Still nothing. Not even a whisper of scent. How does it feel knowing the entire pack forgets you exist the second you leave the room?"
Lydia stepped closer, her jasmine-dominant scent thickening the air like cloying perfume. "I saw the way Kai looked at you. For a second, I actually thought he might speak to the help." She laughed, sharp and cruel. "But then he remembered what you are. Nothing."
Jennie's jaw tightened. The memory of Kai's green eyes—confused, frustrated, then coldly dismissive—flashed through her mind. The bond still thrummed faintly under her skin, a cruel reminder.
Lydia noticed the flicker in her expression and pounced. "Oh, did you think that little stare meant something? Poor scentless Jennie, dreaming the Alpha heir might lower himself to a defective."
The words landed like claws. Jennie felt heat rise in her cheeks, but she refused to look away.
"He felt something," she said, voice low. "You saw it too."
Lydia's smile vanished. For a heartbeat, something ugly flashed across her face—jealousy, fear. Then it was gone, replaced by icy contempt.
"He felt pity," Lydia hissed. "That's all. And even that won't last. By tomorrow, he'll have forgotten your face. Just like everyone else."
She stepped forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "But I'm going to make sure he never looks at you again."
Before Jennie could react, Lydia's hand shot out. She grabbed a fistful of Jennie's silver-white braid and yanked hard, forcing her head back. Pain flared across Jennie's scalp.
"Listen carefully, ghost," Lydia whispered, breath hot against Jennie's ear. "Kai is mine. I've waited five years for him. My family has alliances, power, scent. Everything you lack. Stay away from him. Or I'll make sure the pack finally rids itself of its little defect."
Mia and Serena closed in, blocking any escape. Serena's hand cracked across Jennie's cheek—sharp, stinging. Blood bloomed on her lip.
Jennie tasted copper. Rage surged, hot and sudden, but she forced it down. Fighting back would only give them justification. Pack law protected higher ranks.
Lydia released her hair with a shove that sent Jennie stumbling. "Consider this a friendly warning."
The three turned and sauntered away, laughter echoing through the trees as they headed back to the celebration.
Jennie stood alone again, cheek throbbing, lip bleeding. She wiped the blood with the back of her hand and stared at the crimson smear on her pale skin.
Something inside her cracked—not into despair, but into cold, crystalline fury.
They thought she was nothing.
They thought she would stay broken.
The shadows stirred once more, rising from the ground like loyal sentinels. This time, they didn't wait for permission. They coiled around her wrists, her ankles, cool and protective. When she flexed her fingers, the darkness flexed with her—stronger now, edged with her anger.
Jennie looked up at the moon, silver hair falling loose around her shoulders.
"I'm done surviving," she whispered to the night. "I'm done being invisible."
The shadows tightened around her like armor.
Back at the clearing, the ceremony had moved into full celebration. Bonfires blazed. Music from drums and strings filled the air. Wolves danced and feasted, toasting their returning heir.
Kai stood on the raised platform beside his father, accepting congratulations with polite nods. But his attention wasn't on the warriors slapping his back or the elders praising his training.
His gaze kept drifting to the treeline.
He couldn't explain it. The pull was still there—a low, insistent thrum beneath his skin, urging him toward the shadows where the silver-haired girl had vanished. He had tried to dismiss it. Tried to focus on Lydia's practiced smiles, on the pack's expectations.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw ice-blue ones staring back.
Alpha Ronan leaned close. "You seem distracted, son."
Kai forced a neutral expression. "Just adjusting to being home."
Ronan studied him. "The girl you spoke to—Jennie Voss. Why the interest?"
Kai's jaw tightened. "I felt… something. But she has no scent. It's impossible."
Ronan frowned. "Some bonds are weak. Others imagined. You'll find your true mate soon enough—one worthy of leading beside you."
Lydia appeared at Kai's elbow, slipping her arm through his with easy familiarity. "He's right," she said sweetly. "Tonight is about celebration. Not ghosts."
Kai didn't pull away, but his eyes returned to the dark forest.
Far beyond the firelight, Jennie stood at the edge of a stream, washing the blood from her lip. The water ran cold over her fingers.
She stared at her reflection—silver hair wild, ice-blue eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight, cheek already bruising.
The girl in the water looked back with new resolve.
Lydia wanted to play games?
Fine.
But Jennie wasn't playing by pack rules anymore.
As she straightened, the shadows rose with her, no longer tentative tendrils but a living cloak that surged upward like dark water answering the moon's call. They wrapped around her shoulders, her waist, her silver-white hair, weaving through the strands until she shimmered like a figure carved from midnight frost. The air grew colder, sharper; her breath no longer visible, as if even the night itself held its breath.
For one breathless moment, Jennie stood at the heart of the darkness she had summoned. The shadows pulsed gently against her skin—protective, possessive, ancient. She felt their weight settle over her like armor forged from starless sky, muffling the distant sounds of the pack's celebration until the howls and laughter became nothing more than echoes in a dream.
Her ice-blue eyes glowed faintly in the gloom, reflecting the moon's pale fire. A slow, steady power coursed through her veins—not the wild, burning dominance of an alpha, but something quieter, deeper. Inescapable. The kind of strength that didn't need to roar to be felt.
She took one deliberate step backward.
The shadows folded inward, swallowing her whole.
There was no sound. No rustle of leaves, no splash of water. One instant she was there—silver hair catching the last glint of moonlight on the stream's surface—and the next, she simply wasn't.
The cloak dispersed as silently as it had formed, sinking back into the earth, slipping between the roots of ancient pines, vanishing into the cracks between stones. All that remained was the faint disturbance of the stream: perfect circles spreading outward from where her reflection had been, ripples catching moonlight like scattered diamonds before smoothing into stillness.
A cool breeze stirred the air, carrying the crisp, lingering chill of untouched snow on a winter peak—clean, sharp, and utterly scentless.
Far away, in the heart of the celebration, Kai paused mid-sentence, a sudden shiver racing down his spine. He scanned the treeline again, nostrils flaring instinctively. Nothing. No trace. Yet the pull in his chest twisted tighter, sharper, as though something vital had just slipped through his fingers.
He didn't know it yet, but the girl he had dismissed was already becoming something the pack had only whispered about in forgotten legends.
The Veiled Wolf had taken her first true step into the dark.
And the night was only beginning.