Kira's POV
Knox hits the ground so hard the earth shakes.
For a moment, we both just stare at each other—him flat on his back, me standing over him with my hand still wrapped around his throat. Then I realize what I've done and jump backward like I've been burned.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—you're way bigger than me and I just—"
Knox starts laughing.
He's flat on his back, probably bruised, and he's laughing.
"What's so funny?" I demand, my face burning with embarrassment.
"You," he gasps out, sitting up and rubbing his neck. "Little Kira Ashwood, the 'worthless defect,' just pinned a warrior-class male wolf twice her size." He grins at me. "That's not normal, kid."
"Don't call me kid. I'm eighteen."
"And I'm twenty-five, so yeah, you're a kid." Knox stands up, dusting off his pants. "But you're a kid who just kicked my ass in three seconds flat."
Two weeks. I've been in the Shadow Lands for two weeks, and every day I'm discovering new things about my wolf. Things that don't make sense.
Like how I'm faster than wolves who've been training since they were thirteen. Or how I can hear a conversation happening a quarter-mile away. Or how I just threw a full-grown male warrior to the ground without even trying.
"Again," Knox says, getting into a fighting stance. "And this time, don't hold back."
"I wasn't holding back!"
"Yes, you were. I felt it. You pulled your punch at the last second." His eyes are serious now. "Kira, if you're going to survive out here—if you're going to survive whatever's coming—you need to stop being afraid of your own strength."
He's right. My whole life, I was taught to be small, quiet, invisible. Even now, with this powerful wolf inside me, my first instinct is to apologize for taking up space.
"Okay," I say, shifting my weight. "No holding back."
We circle each other. Knox lunges first—a feint to test my reflexes. I dodge easily, so easily it's almost boring. He tries again, faster this time, and I block his strike and counter with one of my own.
Knox barely blocks it, his eyes widening. "Holy—"
I don't let him finish. I'm moving on instinct now, my wolf guiding my human body. Strike, dodge, spin, kick. Knox is good—really good—but I'm better. In less than a minute, he's on the ground again, and this time I didn't hold back.
"I think I broke something," Knox groans.
"Your ego?" Sera calls from where she's been watching. She walks over, her expression somewhere between impressed and concerned. "Knox, you just got destroyed by a girl who's had her wolf for two weeks."
"Don't remind me," he mutters.
Sera helps him up, then turns to me. Her sharp eyes scan me like she's solving a puzzle. "You're not a normal wolf, Kira. I mean, we suspected, but this..." She gestures at Knox's battered state. "This is something else."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you shouldn't be this strong. You shouldn't be this fast. Your wolf awakened late, which usually means a weaker wolf, not a stronger one." Sera chews her lip, thinking. "We need to take you to Elder Thorne."
"Who?"
"The settlement's spiritual guide," Knox explains, limping slightly. "She's old—like, ancient old—and she knows things about wolves that the rest of us have forgotten. If anyone can figure out what you are, it's her."
What I am. Not who. What.
The words should bother me, but they don't. Because I've been asking myself the same question since my wolf awakened: what am I?
Elder Thorne lives in a cabin at the far edge of the settlement, surrounded by herbs and crystals and things that smell like old magic. She's at least seventy, with white hair and eyes that seem to see right through you.
"Sit," she commands before we even knock.
I sit. Knox and Sera stay by the door, like they're afraid to come closer.
Elder Thorne circles me slowly, sniffing the air, muttering under her breath in a language I don't understand. Then she places one gnarled hand on my head.
Power floods through me—her power, ancient and vast. My wolf rises to meet it, and I hear Elder Thorne's sharp intake of breath.
"Moon's mercy," she whispers. "A Silver Wolf."
"A what?" I ask.
She removes her hand and sinks into a chair like her legs won't hold her anymore. "A Silver Wolf. The rarest bloodline among our kind. Blessed directly by the Moon Goddess herself."
My heart is pounding. "What does that mean?"
"It means you were never defective, child." Elder Thorne's eyes are kind but sad. "Your wolf didn't manifest early because she couldn't. Silver Wolves are too powerful for a child's body to contain. She had to wait until you were strong enough—mentally, physically, spiritually—to handle her."
The words echo in my head. Never defective. Too powerful.
Eighteen years. Eighteen years of being called worthless, broken, a mistake. And all along, I was just... waiting.
"Why didn't anyone know?" My voice cracks. "Why didn't my parents realize—"
"Because Silver Wolves are so rare that most wolves live their entire lives without meeting one," Elder Thorne says gently. "The last known Silver Wolf died eighty years ago. Your parents probably never even considered the possibility."
"Or they didn't want to consider it," Sera adds bitterly. "A Silver Wolf in their family would have made Kira more important than Stella. Can't have that."
She's right. Even if my parents had suspected, they never would have acknowledged it. It would have ruined their perfect narrative about which daughter mattered.
"What can I do?" I ask Elder Thorne. "I mean, what are Silver Wolves supposed to do?"
"Lead. Heal. Protect." Elder Thorne lists them on her fingers. "Silver Wolves are meant to be Lunas—leaders of their packs. They're natural healers, able to ease pain and mend injuries with their touch. And they're warriors when needed, stronger and faster than normal wolves."
Everything I never got to be. Everything I was told I'd never be.
"That's the good news," Elder Thorne continues, and my stomach drops. "The bad news is that Silver Wolves mate bonds are more powerful than others. The connection runs deeper, the pull is stronger, and the consequences of rejection are more severe."
I touch my chest where the bond burns constantly. "How much more severe?"
"A normal wolf might survive a rejected mate bond, though it would hurt terribly. A Silver Wolf?" Elder Thorne shakes her head. "The bond is too strong. Rejecting it is like rejecting half your soul. It will kill you, Kira. And probably kill your mate too, eventually."
"Good," I say flatly. "He deserves it."
"Perhaps." Elder Thorne's gaze is piercing. "But do you deserve it? Do you deserve to die because of his cruelty?"
I don't have an answer.
"How long does she have?" Knox asks from the doorway.
Elder Thorne examines me again, her power washing over the bond. I feel her prodding at it, testing its strength, and I wince when she touches a particularly painful spot.
"The bond is deteriorating faster than I thought," she says finally. "You're a Silver Wolf, which makes you strong, but it also makes the bond's pull stronger. It's like... imagine a rope tied between two cliffs. A normal rope might fray slowly. But a steel cable? When it breaks, it snaps violently and takes everything with it."
"How long?" I press.
Elder Thorne meets my eyes. "Two months. Maybe less. You have two months before the bond kills you, Kira. After that, not even the Moon Goddess herself can save you."
Two months.
Sixty days.
Eight weeks to decide between dying free or living chained to my nightmare.
"There has to be another way," Sera says desperately. "Some kind of magic, or—"
"There are only two ways," Elder Thorne interrupts. "Convince your mate to accept the rejection, which completes the break and saves you both. Or accept him as your mate, which heals the bond and stops the damage."
"Those aren't choices," I say bitterly. "That's just different kinds of prison."
"No." Elder Thorne stands, moving to her window. "A prison is where you are now—trapped between life and death, unable to move forward or back. At least a choice gives you power over your own fate."
Through the window, I can see the boundary stones in the distance. Beyond them is Silvercrest Pack. My family. Daemon.
He's still there, my wolf whispers. Waiting. Watching. He hasn't left the boundary in two weeks.
"He's at the border?" I ask out loud.
Elder Thorne nods. "Every day. All day. He sits at the boundary stones and waits. The rogues won't let him cross—he'd need permission from our leader—but he won't leave either."
"Stubborn bastard," I mutter.
"Or a mate who's desperate," Elder Thorne suggests. "Kira, I know what he did to you. But the mate bond wouldn't exist between you if there wasn't something worth saving. The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes."
"Everyone keeps saying that." I stand up, suddenly needing to move, to escape this conversation. "But pairing me with my bully feels like a pretty big mistake to me."
"Or perhaps," Elder Thorne says softly, "it's her way of teaching you both something. Him, what it means to truly value someone. You, what it means to be valued."
I want to argue, but another wave of pain cuts me off. Stronger than before. The bond is getting worse.
Two months. That's all I have left.
"I need air," I gasp, stumbling toward the door.
Knox and Sera follow me outside, worry written all over their faces.
"Kira—" Sera starts.
"Don't," I cut her off. "Just... don't. I need to think."
I walk away from them, toward the stream where Knox found me two weeks ago. Toward the boundary stones that separate me from everything I ran from.
And sure enough, there he is.
Daemon sits on the other side of the boundary in his wolf form—a massive black wolf with silver-grey eyes. He's thinner than he was two weeks ago, his fur dull. He looks terrible.
Good.
But through the bond, I feel his relief when he sees me. His desperate hope. His wolf's joy that we're okay.
Tell him, my wolf begs. Tell him about the two months. Maybe he'll accept the rejection if he knows we're dying.
"Or maybe he'll use it against us," I say out loud.
Daemon's ears perk up, hearing my voice even from this distance. He stands, taking one step toward the boundary, then stops. Waiting. Always waiting.
"Two months," I call across the stream. "That's what Elder Thorne says. Two months until the bond kills me."
Daemon shifts to human form so fast it's almost violent. "No," he shouts back. "Kira, no. Come back. Please. Let me fix this."
"You CAN fix it!" I yell. "Accept my rejection! Say the words! Let me go!"
"I CAN'T!" His voice breaks. "Don't you think I've tried? I can't say them, Kira. My wolf won't let me. I won't let me."
"Then we both die," I say flatly. "Because I'm not coming back to you."
I turn to leave, but his next words stop me cold:
"I know about the Silver Wolf."
I freeze. "How—"
"Your power is bleeding through the bond. I can feel it." Daemon's voice is urgent now. "Kira, if the wrong people find out what you are—if they realize you're weakened—they'll come for you. There are wolves who would kill to steal a Silver Wolf's essence."
"Let them try," I say, but fear curls in my stomach.
"Please." The word sounds foreign coming from him. "Please, just let me protect you. Even if you hate me. Even if you never forgive me. Just let me keep you alive."
I look back at him—this powerful Alpha, brought to his knees by a bond he can't control.
And I realize Elder Thorne was wrong.
I don't have two months to make a choice.
Because someone, somewhere, has already decided to make it for me.