The walls of the Lycan stronghold were cold, taller than any dream Selene had ever dared. She had lived in their shadows for weeks now, she was their captured trophy, the so-called demon-blooded witch girl. A threat in flesh.
And yet, every night, he came.
Rafe Voran. Alpha heir of the Northern Circle. The hunter who had chained her and brought her to his court but also the man who touched her like she wasn't filth, who looked at her like she wasn't cursed. Who kissed her like they still had a future. He never used the front door. Always the hidden one behind the warded tapestry, the one only a few guards knew of. The others would whisper, of course. The shadows were full of their murmurs.
"The Alpha visits her."
"They say he's bewitched."
"He shares her bed, they say. The cursed one."
"He'll never name her his mate."
Selene tried to ignore them. The pack hated her. Her blood wasn't pure, her soul wasn't clean, and worse she was powerful in ways none of them understood. But Rafe, Rafe saw past that. She believed he did.
Selene, starved of affection, drank in his visits like breath. They made love in stolen hours, in candlelight and secrets, and afterward, he would hold her like he wanted the world to go quiet forever.
Tonight, his hands traced her back like she was sacred. The kiss they shared tasted like fire and forest and all the wild things he claimed to rule.
"I hate hiding you," he whispered into her shoulder, "but this world… they wouldn't let me have you if they knew."
She turned in his arms, stared into the storm-colored eyes she had come to crave.
"Then let them know," she said, soft but sure. "Let them see us."
He didn't answer at first.
Then he said, "Soon. The Ceremony of the Moon is coming. I'll speak your name then. You'll be mine in the eyes of the Circle."
Selene's breath caught. She had dreamed of this, being named Luna, standing beside him, no longer a secret. Her heart swelled, and she nodded against his chest.
"Promise?"
He touched her chin, kissed her again. "I swear it."
She fell asleep wrapped in his scent, believing him. Believing she wasn't just his secret, that she was his choice.
The Ceremony of the Moon came, it was the most sacred night in the Lycan year. Wolves gathered in their finest. The moon rose red that night, an omen most ignored but some whispered about. Selene stood just beyond the crowd, dressed in silver cloth, her chains hidden beneath her sleeves. She wasn't free, not yet but Rafe had told her tonight would change that.
He stood at the head of the circle, tall and fearsome, his armor gleaming like a war god. Behind him stood Eden Blackthorn, regal and composed, her hand resting just too close to Rafe's elbow. Selene's heart pinched, but she reminded herself — He chose me.
The drums silenced. The howls faded. And Rafe raised his hands. "My people," he said. "Tonight, I name the one who will stand beside me as Luna."
Selene stepped forward, trembling with hope. She felt all eyes shift to her, some in outrage, some in confusion. Rafe's eyes locked on hers. For a heartbeat, everything was still.
And then, he said:
"Eden Blackthorn. Noble of the Highblood line. My intended."
Selene stopped breathing.
He continued, "This creature, Selene has lived among us under my protection, I have kept her alive not because she is innocent, but because the law demanded her trial. That time is over."
Silence shattered.
"No," she whispered, voice barely audible over the storm rising around them.
Rafe's face hardened. "Selene, daughter of Liliana the witch and an unknown demon, hybrid and threat to our kind, you are hereby declared an enemy of the Northern Circle."
The guards came, "Enemy of the state," one announced coldly. "Her presence here was a deception. She is to be turned over to the Mage Order for containment and cleansing."
Selene tried to scream but no sound was made. Her voice was caught, choked by disbelief and betrayal. Rafe didn't flinch. Didn't move.
The Mage Order approached her, cloaked in white and fire-sigilled steel. They bound her once again, this time with chains laced in spell script. Her throat burned as magic twisted around it, robbing her of sound.
She looked at Rafe. He didn't meet her eyes.
In her silence, a scream lived.
They dragged her past the nobles, past Rafe's mother who watched with cold satisfaction, past Eden Blackthorn, the woman who was now free to claim the title Selene had foolishly believed might one day be hers.
The last thing she heard before the cell doors slammed was her own heart breaking.
Outside, the wind howled like mourning wolves. And Selene was gone.
There was a collective gasp, but no one louder than the one in her own throat. Rafe didn't even look at her again. He stepped forward, took Eden's hand, and placed a ceremonial kiss on her wrist.