The Grand Hall of the Crimson Hollow Pack House had never looked more alive.
Moonlight poured through the tall arched windows, silvering the ancient stone floor that had once borne the weight of a hundred generations of Alphas and Lunas. Tonight, every chandelier blazed. Garlands of white moonflowers and deep crimson roses spilled from the rafters, their perfume thick and sweet. The entire pack—over six hundred wolves—stood shoulder to shoulder, fur cloaks and formal gowns brushing in restless anticipation.
One month had passed since the warehouse burned to cinders with Scarlett inside it.
One month since Ryan walked out of the hospital on his own two feet.
One month since I proved, beyond any whisper of doubt, that the Moon Goddess herself had chosen correctly.
Now, the pack waited for their Luna to be crowned.
At the far end of the hall, the massive double doors opened without a sound.
Silence fell like a blade.
I stepped into the moonlight.
I wore a gown the color of fresh snow, cut high at the throat and falling in a liquid train behind me. The bodice was sewn with tiny silver threads that caught the light like frost on wolf fur. My dark hair, once hacked short in exile, now spilled down my back in a river of midnight, held away from my face by two delicate combs shaped like crescent moons. No veil. I had nothing left to hide.
I walked alone.
No one gave me away tonight; I had taken myself back long ago.
Every step echoed. Every wolf I passed dropped to one knee without being commanded. The Elders who had sneered at my rogue blood five years ago, who had called me unworthy behind Ryan's back, now pressed their foreheads to the stone in trembling reverence. Elder Marlowe's hands shook as he bowed so low his silver beard brushed the floor. They had seen what I did to Scarlett. They had felt the shift in power the moment the usurper's heart stopped beating.
I did not smile. I did not need to. Power radiated from me like heat from a forge.
At the foot of the dais, Leo waited in a miniature black suit, hair combed for once. When he saw me, his whole face lit up. He started forward, remembered protocol, and forced himself to stand still, bouncing on his toes instead.
Ryan stood at the top of the three marble steps, tall and devastating in ceremonial black, the Alpha's torque gleaming at his throat. The scar from the silver blade was still pink across his collarbone, a proud reminder that he had survived for this moment. His gray eyes never left me.
When I reached him, the Elder Council parted. The ancient Luna Crown rested on a cushion of black velvet: white gold shaped like entwined wolves, set with a single flawless moonstone in the center.
Ryan lifted it with both hands.
The hall held its breath.
He stepped close, so close I could smell cedar and storm on his skin.
"My equal," he whispered, voice rough with emotion only I could hear. "My life."
The crown settled onto my hair, cool and heavy and right.
A roar went up from the pack—howls and cheers and stamping feet that shook dust from the rafters. Leo whooped and threw himself at my legs. Ryan caught us both, lifting Leo into his arms so the three of us stood crowned and complete beneath the moon's ancient gaze.
Later, when the feast had been devoured and the wine flowed and the pack danced under strings of fairy lights in the courtyard, Ryan led me out onto the private balcony that overlooked the forest.
The night was warm for late autumn. Crickets sang in the pines. Leo darted around our feet with a stick-sword, chasing fireflies, his laughter bright as bells.
I leaned against the stone balustrade and drew a deep breath. The crown had been placed in the vault for safekeeping; my hair was loose again, tumbling over the simple silk robe I had changed into. I felt light enough to float.
Ryan came up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder.
"We did it," he murmured against my ear. "We're whole."
I smiled, covered his hands with mine, and gently guided them downward until his palm lay flat over my lower belly.
For a heartbeat he was still.
Then his breath hitched.
"Aria…"
"Leo's going to be a big brother," I said softly.
Ryan turned me in his arms so fast the world blurred. His eyes searched mine, silver with tears he didn't try to hide. A laugh broke out of him—joy so pure it sounded like pain. He dropped to his knees right there on the balcony, pressing his forehead to my stomach as if in prayer. Tears darkened the silk where they fell.
"My goddess," he whispered, voice shaking. "Thank you. Thank you."
Leo bounded over, curious. "Why is Daddy crying, Mama?"
"Because he's happy, baby." I ruffled Leo's curls, then Ryan's hair. "We all are."
Ryan rose, cupping my face, kissing me slow and deep and reverent under the stars. Leo wedged himself between our legs, hugging us both, and for one perfect moment the world was nothing but warmth and moonlight and the steady beat of three hearts that had finally found their way home.
Then the balcony doors burst open.
Damon stood in the frame, face ashen, chest heaving as though he'd run the whole way from the western border.
"Alpha. Luna." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. You need to see this now."
Ryan's arms tightened protectively around me and Leo. "What is it?"
Damon crossed the balcony in three strides and held out a black envelope sealed with crimson wax. The wax bore a sigil I had never seen before—two crossed sickles beneath a full moon.
"It was in Scarlett's private safe," Damon said. "The one that survived the fire. We only just cracked it open."
Ryan took the envelope. His fingers trembled as he broke the seal.
Inside was a single sheet of heavy parchment and a photograph, edges singed but intact.
He unfolded the parchment first. His face drained of color so fast I thought he might fall.
"Ryan?" I touched his arm. "What is it?"
He couldn't speak. He turned the photograph toward me instead.
It was old, yellowed, taken perhaps twenty-five years ago. A newborn infant swaddled in white, eyes closed, tiny fist curled against her cheek. On the back, written in faded ink:
To my beloved daughter. May the Moon hide you until the time is right. —E.
I stared, confused. "That's… me?"
Ryan's voice came out hoarse. "There's a DNA report attached. Scarlett had it done in secret years ago." He swallowed hard. "Aria… Scarlett didn't hate you just because of me. She hated you because of who your real father is."
I felt the night tilt around me. "What are you talking about?"
Ryan lifted his gaze to the full moon hanging huge and white above the treeline. When he spoke again, his words carried the weight of prophecy.
"You are not rogue-born. You are not human-tainted. You, Aria, are the lost daughter of the Silver Eclipse Royal Pack—the direct descendant of the oldest pure bloodline on the continent. The bloodline every usurper has tried to erase for three centuries."
He looked back at me, terror and awe warring in his eyes.
"Your father isn't dead, Aria. He's the Lycan King who was betrayed and banished twenty-six years ago. And the moment the supernatural world learns you're alive…"
Ryan's hand found mine, gripping tight enough to bruise.
"…every throne, every rogue army, every hidden prince will come for you."
Far below in the courtyard, the pack was still celebrating, unaware.
Above us, the moon stared down like a judge.
And in the sudden silence on the balcony, I felt the first cold breath of a war far larger than anything Scarlett had ever dreamed.
End of Volume 1