The Moon Ceremony was supposed to be the night Lyra finally stopped hiding. She'd spent years swallowing the cold looks from her stepmother, Elena, and putting up with Elara's constant bragging. She'd survived on the tiny scraps of love her father threw her way, a man who always looked at her like he was guilty of a crime she didn't understand yet.
But tonight, Silas was going to claim her. Silas was the boy who'd chased her through the woods since they were pups. He was the one who knew her favorite hiding spots. And now, he was the Alpha of the Silver Claw Pack.
The air in the clearing was thick and heavy, smelling of pine needles, roasted meat, and that strange, electric buzz you feel when a hundred wolves are ready to shift. Lyra stood by the ancient Oak tree, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt. She'd picked out a simple white dress, but standing next to Elara, she felt invisible. Her sister was draped in a shimmering silk gown, a gift from Elena that probably cost more than the pack's entire grain supply for the year.
"You look like you're about to faint, dear," Elena's voice hissed in her ear. She smelled like jasmine and something bitter, a scent Lyra had smelled every day but never could name. "Don't be scared. Tonight, everyone is finally going to see exactly where you belong."
Lyra forced a small smile, completely missing the nasty glint in Elena's eyes. "Thank you, Mother."
"I'm not your mother," Elena whispered, her voice dropping to a level that made Lyra's blood run cold. "And by the time the moon sets, you won't even have a father."
Before Lyra could even ask what that meant, the drums stopped.
The crowd split down the middle. Silas stepped out. He looked every bit the Alpha big, broad-shouldered, with dark hair the wind had messed up just right. His golden eyes were glowing with that raw Alpha power. Deep inside, Lyra felt her own wolf stir, a tiny, flickering warmth she'd felt all her life but could never quite get to catch fire.
She stepped toward him, her hand shaking as she reached out. "Silas..."
Silas didn't take her hand. He didn't even look her in the eye. He was staring at something right behind her shoulder.
"Silver Claw Pack!" Silas's voice boomed, carrying that Alpha command that made everyone want to bow. "Tonight, I take my place as your leader. And a leader needs a Luna who is just as strong as he is. Someone who carries the fire of our ancestors."
Lyra's heart took flight. He's talking about me, she thought. The Alpha's daughter. It's happening.
"I, Silas of the Silver Claw, reject Lyra as my mate and my Luna!"
The clearing went dead silent. Even the wind seemed to stop moving through the trees. Lyra's hand dropped to her side, her fingers going numb instantly.
"Silas?" she breathed, the word barely making it out of her throat. "What are you saying?"
He finally looked at her, but there wasn't a trace of the boy she grew up with. Just disgust. "You're weak, Lyra. You're eighteen and your wolf is nothing but a silent shadow. You have no scent, no power, and no business being by my side. I'm not going to tie my legacy to a mistake of nature."
A wave of whispers broke out. Lyra looked desperately at her father, Alpha Marcus. He was sitting on the high stone, but he looked small. His face was pale and his hands were shaking. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Elena's hand was clamped tight on his shoulder, her fingers digging into his cloak like claws.
"Instead," Silas shouted, his voice getting even louder as he turned toward the girl in the silk dress. "I claim Elara as my true Luna. She's the one the prophecy was talking about. She's the flame that will lead us to war!"
Elara stepped forward with a smirk that told Lyra everything. She wasn't a sister losing a sibling; she was a hunter who just finished a kill. Silas pulled Elara into his arms and bit into her neck to seal the claim right there in front of everyone. The pack didn't boo. They cheered.
The rejection hit Lyra like a punch to the gut. That invisible string that had connected her soul to Silas just snapped, sending a wave of pure agony through her chest. She gasped, her legs giving out as she hit the dirt.
"Silas, please," she choked out, her eyes swimming in hot tears.
"Get her out of my sight," Silas barked, his voice like ice. "She's not part of this pack anymore. She's a rogue. A nothing."
"Wait!" Elena stepped forward, putting on a face of fake sadness. "Before she leaves, everyone needs to know the truth. My husband, Alpha Marcus, has been lied to for years. Lyra isn't the daughter of some noble midwife. She's the product of a curse. Her mother, Selene, was a traitor who used dark herbs to trick the Alpha's heart into loving her."
"That's a lie!" Lyra screamed, her voice cracking. "My mother loved him! She was his mate!"
"Your mother was a servant who died because her body couldn't handle the dark things she was practicing," Elena spat, finally dropping the act. She leaned down, her face right in Lyra's. "I'm the one who kept this pack together. I'm the one who gave him a real daughter—Elara. You? You're just a weed we forgot to pull."
Lyra looked at her father one last time, begging. "Father, tell them. Tell them she's lying."
Alpha Marcus looked away. He couldn't even meet her eyes. In that moment, Lyra realized her father was a broken man, just a hollow shell being piloted by the woman standing over him.
"Get out, Lyra," Silas growled. "If you're still on Silver Claw land by sunrise, my warriors will hunt you down like the animal you are."
Lyra stood up and ran into the forest.
The forest was a mess of thorns and shadows. Lyra ran until her lungs felt like they were filled with hot coals. Her white dress was in tatters and her feet were raw and bleeding, but she didn't stop. Then the rain started—a freezing, biting downpour that soaked her to the bone.
She was a rogue. No pack, no home. In their world, that was basically a death sentence.
She collapsed near the edge of the Iron Fang territory, a place no Silver Claw wolf was brave enough to enter. This was the land of the Blind King, the man parents used to scare their kids into behaving.
As she lay in the mud, her strength finally gone, she felt someone there. It wasn't the warm smell of Silas. This was something heavy, old, and terrifying. It smelled like rain on hot pavement, old blood, and expensive cedarwood.
"What is this?" a deep, gravelly voice rumbled.
Lyra forced her eyes open. Through the rain, she saw a man standing over her. He was huge, wearing a heavy black cloak lined with fur. His face looked like it was carved out of stone beautiful, but scary. But his eyes were what stopped her heart. They were a cloudy, milky silver.
He was blind.
"Just a rogue, Alpha Logan," a voice said from the shadows. "She's dying. She smells like Silver Claw."
The man, Logan, knelt down. He didn't use his eyes; he tilted his head, listening to the rhythm of her heart and catching the scent of her blood. He reached out, his big, rough hand hovering over her face before he let it rest on her neck.
His touch felt like a jolt of electricity.
"She doesn't smell like a rogue," Logan muttered, his brow furrowing. "She smells like... hidden embers."
Suddenly, his grip tightened, and a low, terrifying growl ripped out of his chest, making the ground shake under Lyra. His wolf was waking up.
"Take her to the fortress," Logan ordered, his voice tight, like he was starving. "And call the healers. If she dies, I'm taking your heads."
"But Alpha, she's the enemy—"
"I don't care where she's from!" Logan roared, his silver eyes flashing with a sudden, violent spark of red. "She's the only thing that's made the beast quiet in three years. She stays."
Lyra felt herself being lifted by a pair of strong arms. The world went dark, but for the first time in years, the cold didn't feel so heavy anymore.