Isla's POV
"Forty-eight hours isn't enough time."
I sat in Professor Nightshade's private office—the one hidden behind the regular office, protected by magic wards that made my skin tingle. Around me sat the five Alpha heirs who'd shown up at the Old Library, plus my professor, all arguing about what I should do.
About my life. Like I wasn't even in the room.
"She needs to accept the High Council's offer," Kael Nightshade said. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "They have the resources to protect her from the Council of Shadows. Going rogue would be suicide."
"The High Council wants to use her as a weapon," Thorne Ashford argued. "The moment she signs with them, she becomes their property. Their tool for whatever political games they're playing."
"Better their tool than dead," Kael shot back.
"Or," Lyra Frost said calmly, "she could accept sanctuary with one of our packs. Marry an Alpha heir, unite our territories, and tell both Councils to go to hell."
Every male Alpha in the room suddenly looked very interested. I wanted to throw something.
"I'm not marrying anyone," I said.
They kept arguing like I hadn't spoken. About alliances. About territory rights. About bloodline compatibility. About everything except what I actually wanted.
Only one person wasn't talking.
Daemon stood by the door, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hadn't said a word since we'd arrived. Just watched me with those golden eyes that still made my traitorous heart skip beats despite everything he'd done.
I hated that. Hated that the mate bond—even corrupted and poisoned—still pulled at me. Still whispered that he was mine, that we belonged together, that rejecting him back would feel like cutting off my own arm.
"ENOUGH!" The word exploded out of me with Alpha command I didn't mean to use. Everyone fell silent, several actually flinching. "Stop. All of you just... stop."
Professor Nightshade smiled slightly. "Finally using that voice of yours."
"I don't want this," I said, my hands shaking. "Any of this. Yesterday I was nobody. Invisible. Safe. Now I'm apparently some prophesied weapon that everyone wants to control or kill. How is this my life?"
"Because of who your parents were," Professor Nightshade said gently. "Your father led the Council of Alphas. Your mother was the strongest healer in three generations. Together, they were building something revolutionary—a pack system based on merit instead of bloodline, where strength mattered more than birth status."
"Then why are they dead?" The question came out bitter.
"Because the Council of Shadows couldn't allow it. They profit from the current system—from keeping lower-ranked wolves oppressed, from controlling territories through fear and tradition. Your parents threatened that power structure." She looked at me with sad eyes. "So they hired rogues to eliminate the Silvermoon bloodline. They thought they'd succeeded. Until you showed up."
"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice cracked. "Eight years. You had eight years to prepare me, to train me, to—"
"To make you a target sooner?" Professor Nightshade shook her head. "I kept you hidden precisely so you could have a normal life. So you could be a child instead of a weapon. I'm sorry it ended this way, Isla. Truly. But now the world knows what you are. We can't put that secret back."
Thorne stepped forward. "Let me help you. The Ashford Pack may be smaller than the others, but we're loyal. I'll protect you. No strings attached."
"There are always strings," Lyra said dryly. "He wants to mate you, Isla. They all do. A bond with the Silvermoon heir would make any pack the most powerful in the territories."
"I already have a mate," I said quietly. "He just doesn't want me."
Everyone's eyes turned to Daemon. He finally spoke, his voice rough. "I want you. I've always wanted you. I was just too much of a coward to choose you when it mattered."
"And now it's too late," I said. "The bond is corrupted. Even if I forgave you—which I won't—we'd both still die from the poison."
"Actually," Professor Nightshade said carefully, "there is one way to heal a corrupted mate bond."
Hope flared in Daemon's eyes. I felt my own heart skip despite myself.
"The Trials of the Twin Moons," the Professor continued. "An ancient ritual where rejected mates face three tests together. If they survive and prove their bond is real, the corruption is cleansed. If they fail..." She shrugged. "They die faster."
"No," I said immediately. "Absolutely not. I'm not doing some magical ritual with the Alpha who rejected me in front of everyone."
"Then you'll both be dead in less than a month," Kael said bluntly. "The corrupted bond will kill you. The Council of Shadows will kill you. Take your pick."
"There's another option." Lyra pulled out her phone, showing me an article. "The Trials aren't just for healing bonds. They're also used to break them completely. Sever the connection permanently so neither party dies from rejection."
My breath caught. "I could break the bond? Be free of him forever?"
"Yes. But you'd lose any chance of ever having a true mate again. The bond only happens once in a lifetime. Break it with Daemon, and you'll never feel that connection with anyone else."
I looked at Daemon. He'd gone pale, his hands clenched into fists. "Don't," he whispered. "Please, Isla. Don't break it. Let me prove—"
"Prove what? That you're sorry? That you made a mistake?" I stood up, suddenly angry again. "You had one chance, Daemon. One moment where you could have chosen me. And you didn't. Why should I give you another?"
"Because I love you." The words were raw, desperate. "I know I have no right to say that. I know I destroyed everything. But it's true. I love you. And I will spend the rest of my life—however long that is—trying to be worthy of you."
The words hit me harder than they should. Part of me wanted to believe him. Wanted to forgive him and do the Trials and see if we could fix this broken thing between us.
But the smarter part—the part that had survived eight years of hiding, of being invisible, of enduring—knew better.
"I need air," I said, heading for the door.
"Isla, wait—" multiple voices called.
I ran.
I ran through the hallways, out of the building, across campus until my lungs burned. I didn't stop until I reached the memorial garden where students went to think.
I collapsed on a bench, finally letting the tears come. Everything was too much. Too fast. Too overwhelming.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number again.
My blood went cold. The last unknown number had led me into a rogue attack.
But I looked anyway. One text message:
The Trials of the Twin Moons begin at dawn. You've been entered. Both of you. Survive together or die alone. Good luck, Silvermoon heir.
"What?" I whispered.
Another message came through. This time with an attachment—a photo that made my blood freeze.
It showed me and Daemon at the Fall Equinox Ball, the moment right before he rejected me. But someone had drawn a target over both our faces. And written in red letters across the image:
THE COUNCIL OF SHADOWS DOESN'T WANT YOU TO COMPLETE THE TRIALS. WE'VE SENT ASSASSINS TO MAKE SURE YOU DON'T. YOU HAVE TWELVE HOURS TO PREPARE. RUN OR FIGHT. YOUR CHOICE.
My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the phone.
"Isla?"
I spun around. Daemon stood at the garden entrance, breathing hard like he'd been running. "I followed you. I'm sorry, I just—" He saw my face. "What's wrong?"
I showed him the messages.
His expression went from concerned to furious to terrified in seconds. "Someone entered us in the Trials without permission? That's... that's not possible. Both parties have to agree."
"Well, apparently someone found a loophole." I stood up, my mind racing. "We have twelve hours before assassins come for us. Twelve hours to prepare for Trials we don't understand, to test a bond that's already dying, to—"
"To decide if we trust each other enough to survive," Daemon finished quietly.
We stared at each other across the garden—rejected mates, poisoned bond, enemies who used to be destined for forever.
"I don't trust you," I said.
"I know."
"I don't forgive you."
"I know."
"But I don't want to die." The admission hurt. "And I'm guessing you don't either."
Daemon stepped closer. "So we do the Trials. Together. And maybe we survive long enough to figure out if this bond is worth saving."
"Or we die trying."
"Or we die trying," he agreed.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was Professor Nightshade: Get to the safe house. NOW. They're coming for you early.
The safe house address appeared below. It was on the edge of campus, in the abandoned warehouse district. The perfect place for a trap.
Or the only place we might survive the night.
I looked at Daemon. "Can you shift?"
"Always."
"Then run. Because whatever's coming, we need to be ready."
We shifted together—my silver wolf and his fire-red one—and ran into the darkness.
Behind us, I heard screams from campus. Explosions. Gunfire.
The assassins weren't waiting twelve hours.
They were already here.