Callum's POV
My wolf is screaming at me to stop.
Every instinct I have roars against what I'm about to do. My hands shake. My heart pounds so hard I think it might explode. The mate bond glows between Isla and me, golden and perfect and begging me not to do this.
But my father's words echo in my head: "Reject her or our pack burns."
I force my mouth to open. Force the words out even though they taste like poison.
"I, Callum Reid, future Alpha of Crescent Hollow Pack..."
"No!" Isla screams, and the sound rips my heart in half.
My wolf howls inside me. Don't do this. She's OURS. Stop!
But I can't stop. The Blackwood alliance is everything. Without it, our pack is defenseless. Weak packs get absorbed or destroyed. That's just how it works.
I'm choosing hundreds of lives over one.
Even if that one is the girl I've loved since we were kids.
"...reject you, Isla Morven, as my mate."
The bond shatters.
The pain is instant and terrible. It feels like someone took a knife and carved out my chest. My wolf throws himself against my mind, trying to take control, trying to take back the rejection.
But it's too late.
Isla collapses, screaming. The sound is worse than anything I've ever heard. Worse than wolves dying in battle. Worse than the worst nightmare.
Because I caused it.
My body moves before I can think. I lunge forward and catch her before she hits the ground. She's shaking so hard. Tears pour down her face. Her violet eyes—those beautiful, strange eyes—stare up at me with such betrayal that I want to die.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, pulling her close even though I have no right to touch her. "I'm so sorry. I have no choice."
"You always have a choice," she gasps between sobs. "You're just too weak to make the right one."
The words hit harder than any rejection could. Because she's right. I am weak.
A true Alpha would fight for his mate. Would tell his father and the Blackwoods and everyone else to go to hell. Would protect the person the Moon Goddess chose for him.
But I'm not a true Alpha. I'm just a coward in an Alpha's clothing.
"Callum." Sienna's voice cuts through my guilt. She appears at my side, her hand gripping my arm possessively. "Let her go. You made your choice."
I know I should release Isla. Should step away. But I can't make my arms work.
My father solves the problem by ripping Isla from my grasp. "Someone get her out of here. Take her to the medical room."
Maya and another she-wolf grab Isla, half-carrying her away. She doesn't fight. Doesn't resist. She just sobs like her whole world ended.
Because it did. I ended it.
"Well." My father turns to the shocked crowd. "That was... unfortunate. But these things happen. Sometimes the Moon Goddess's initial pairing needs correction." He clears his throat. "Now, let's move to happier news. Callum, son, you have an announcement?"
I stare at him. He actually wants me to do this now? While Isla is still crying somewhere nearby? While I can still feel the ghost of our destroyed bond?
Sienna squeezes my arm harder. "Darling?"
I look at her. Really look at her. She's beautiful. Perfect. Everything an Alpha's mate should be. Strong bloodline. Political connections. No strange powers or silver fur or anything that screams "dangerous unknown."
Safe. That's what Sienna is. Safe.
So why does choosing her feel like the worst mistake of my life?
"I—" My voice cracks. I clear it and try again. "I'm honored to announce my engagement to Sienna Blackwood. Our packs will unite through our bond."
The crowd cheers. It sounds hollow. Fake. Or maybe that's just what it sounds like through my guilt.
Sienna beams and kisses my cheek. Her father, Alpha Blackwood, claps me on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, son."
My father looks satisfied. Proud, even.
I feel sick.
Then the temperature drops.
It happens so fast that several wolves gasp. The warm summer night suddenly feels like winter. Frost forms on the grass. Our breaths come out in white clouds.
And the power—oh god, the power.
It rolls over the ceremony grounds like a wave. Ancient. Terrifying. It makes Isla's silver light feel like a candle compared to the sun.
Every wolf at the ceremony drops to their knees. Not because they want to. Because they have to. Because this power demands submission.
Even my father kneels. Even Alpha Blackwood.
Only Sienna and I remain standing, and that's only because we're both future Alphas. But my knees shake with the effort.
"What is this?" Sienna whispers, her face pale.
From the shadows beyond the lantern light, a figure emerges.
He's tall. Muscular. Moves like a predator—smooth and deadly. His hair is black as midnight. And his eyes...
Silver. Like frozen moonlight.
Like the wolf from Isla's dreams. The one she told me about when we were kids.
Recognition slams into me. I know who this is. Every werewolf knows the stories. The ancient Lycan who's ruled for centuries. The monster who destroys entire packs without mercy.
"The Lycan King," someone whispers in terror.
Theron Ashenfang.
He walks through our ceremony like he owns it. Wolves scramble out of his way. He doesn't even glance at them. His silver eyes scan the crowd, searching.
Then they find what they're looking for.
Maya and the other she-wolf are still trying to get Isla to the packhouse. She's barely conscious, still shaking from the rejection pain.
Theron's eyes lock on her.
And something changes in his expression. Something that makes my blood run cold.
He moves faster than should be possible. One second he's twenty feet away. The next, he's there. He takes Isla from Maya and the other wolf like they're not even holding her.
"Mine," he growls.
The word vibrates with power. With possession.
Isla stirs in his arms. Her violet eyes flutter open. When she sees who's holding her, pure terror floods her face.
"No," she whispers. "Not you. Anyone but you."
"Yes, me," Theron says. His voice is cold. Final. "You're my mate now, little wolf."
"That's impossible!" I hear myself shout. "She just—she was my mate—"
Theron finally looks at me. His silver eyes are empty. Emotionless. "Was. Past tense. You rejected her."
"I didn't—" But I can't finish the lie. I did reject her.
"Second-chance mates exist for a reason," Theron continues. "To claim what fools throw away."
My father steps forward, trying to salvage this disaster. "Lord Ashenfang, surely we can discuss—"
"There's nothing to discuss." Theron adjusts Isla in his arms. She looks so small against his massive frame. "Isla Morven is my mate. I'm taking her. Anyone who objects can die."
The threat hangs in the air. No one moves. No one speaks.
Because everyone knows: Theron Ashenfang doesn't make empty threats.
"Wait!" Isla struggles weakly. "You killed my parents!"
Something flickers across Theron's face. Too quick to read. "Did I? Are you sure about that?"
"Everyone knows—"
"Everyone knows stories. Not truth." He turns to leave, then pauses. Looks back at me one last time. "By the way, Reid. That power she has? The silver light? She's a Moonborn Lycan. The first in five hundred years."
My blood turns to ice. Moonborn Lycan. I've heard that term once, in ancient pack histories. Females who can bear the strongest heirs in werewolf history. Females that Lycan Kings would go to war over.
"You rejected the most valuable mate in our world," Theron says with something almost like amusement. "I should thank you for your stupidity."
He walks away. Isla stares at me over his shoulder, tears still streaming down her face.
I just stand there. Frozen. Useless.
I rejected her to save my pack.
But watching her disappear into the darkness with the Lycan King, I realize something terrible:
I didn't save anyone.
I just signed all our death warrants.