Amira's POV
"Get up, Amira. Now."
Father's voice sliced through the last threads of sleep. I bolted upright. The taste of copper coated my tongue, thick and metallic. The dream clung to me: white eyes floating inches from my face, breath cold and rotten, brushing my cheeks like frost.
"What time is it?" I mumbled, squinting against the sunlight pouring through the window.
"Late enough that you missed breakfast and half the pack are already asking where their future Luna disappeared to." Dorian stood in the doorway, already dressed in his dark Alpha leathers. Arms folded across his chest. "The Blood Moon ceremony is tonight. You need to be ready."
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The sheets twisted around my ankles like ropes. "I am ready."
His grey eyes moved over my face, slow and measuring. "After the Crimson Seer's performance last night, the pack is questioning whether you are fit to stand as Luna."
The words landed like a fist to the sternum. I forced my spine straight. "I did not invite her here."
"No. But you ran the moment her words landed. He took one step into the room. "A Luna does not run, Amira."
"I am not Luna yet." "And at this rate, you never will be."
He turned to leave, then stopped in the doorway. "There is a gathering before the ceremony. The Blackthorn pack has requested a meeting. Territorial boundaries and hunting rights. You will attend and you will behave well."
My stomach dropped hard. "Will he be there?" His eyes sharpened. "He?"
Heat flooded my face. "Nothing. Forget it."
"Jimmy Aeson will be present. He is their heir, the same as you are ours." His voice dropped to the low, resonant tone that made every wolf in hearing distance straighten instinctively. "Stay away from him, Amira. The Blackthorns are not our friends. Treaties do not change blood."
The door closed with a soft click.
I fell back against the pillows. The ceiling stared down, blank and white. Tonight was the shift and tonight the moon turned red. Tonight I would face Jimmy, the boy who promised to drive a blade through my heart the moment my eyes bled white.
Something restless stirred under my ribs. Not fear alone, but something hotter and sharper, tangled with it.
A soft knock came up immediately. "Come in."
Eira slipped inside carrying a tray with toast and tea. Steam curled upward in thin spirals. Her braid hung over one shoulder. Worry carved lines around her mouth.
"You missed breakfast." "Not hungry."
She set the tray on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed. "Eat anyway. Tonight is going to be… heavy."
I studied her face. "You know something."
She hesitated as her fingers twisted the end of her braid. "Grandmother called this morning. She had a vision, and it's about your shift."
My throat tightened. "Tell me."
"Your wolf is different." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Older and darker."
A cold settled deep in my chest. "What does that mean?" "I do not know everything. But she said, "You will not stand alone tonight." Her eyes met mine, steady and serious. "Someone unexpected will stand with you."
"Father?"
She shook her head. "Someone who is supposed to be your enemy."
Before I could press her further, engines roared up the driveway deep, powerful and multiple bikes.
We both froze. "They are early," I muttered. I crossed to the window.
Five black motorcycles gleamed in the afternoon sun. Riders dismounted from them and pulled off their helmets. Blackthorn pack tattoos stood out starkly against leather jackets.
Jimmy swung his leg off the largest bike as the wind tossed his hair. The scars on his knuckles caught the light. He moved as if violence were a patient companion waiting for the right word.
He looked up, straight at my window. I jerked back, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Eira touched my arm. "Get dressed. Your father will want you downstairs for the meeting." I nodded and headed to my wardrobe to pick.
Jeans, a black tank and boots to wear. I glanced in the mirror and noticed my pale face, wide eyes and hair still tangled with forest leaves from last night. I forced three slow breaths.
Downstairs, the air felt thick enough to choke on. Vale wolves lined one wall in everyday clothes, while Blackthorns stood opposite in road leathers and scars. No one sat and no one smiled.
Father and Marcus Aeson stood in the center of the room with their shoulders rigid and low voices. They kept a careful distance, as if one wrong move would ignite the space between them.
"Amira."
Jimmy appeared at my shoulder. Up close, his scent overwhelmed me with motor oil, worn leather and the sharp edge of an oncoming storm.
"Enjoying the family reunion?" I asked.
His mouth quirked at one corner. "About as much as you are." Every eye in the room tracked us, the rival heirs. Speaking as if they did not want to tear throats out.
"Walk with me," he said quietly. "Not a good idea." "Neither of us is choosing good ideas today." He had a point. I followed him out to the back porch.
The afternoon air carried pine and the faint metallic bite that always came before a blood moon. In a few hours, that moon would rise and everything would change.
"Your father knows," Jimmy said without preamble. "Knows what?" "What you are and what you will become tonight."
I stood still. "Which is?"
He turned to face me fully with his black eyes, grave. "The Hollow Wolf."
The name struck like a physical blow. Childhood stories whispered in the dark. A creature of shadow and endless hunger. It appeared once every century and devoured everything.
"That is just a legend." "Is it?" He stepped closer. "Tell me your dreams, Amira."
I tried to look away, but I could not. "White eyes, too many teeth and a forest that twists and bends wrong."
He nodded once... Grim. "The hollow dreams. They always begin months before the first shift."
"You are trying to scare me," I said. "No... I am trying to save your life." His voice dropped lower. "The Blackthorn pack exists for one purpose. We hunt the things that hunt wolves. When the Hollow rises, we end it before it spreads."
"So you came here to threaten me again." "I came here to make you an offer." Breath caught. "What offer?"
"Run with me tonight just before the ceremony. We get on my bike and ride until no one can find us."
I stared at him. "You are serious." "Dead serious." He leaned in. Heat rolled off his skin. "If you stay and you go through with the ritual, one of two things happens. The Hollow takes you completely and I have to kill you. Or you fight it and it kills you anyway. I prefer neither outcome."
"Why do you care what happens to me?"
For a single second, something raw flashed across his face. "Because no matter how hard I try, no matter what I was taught, I cannot stop thinking about you and that terrifies me more than anything I have ever faced."
The confession hung between us. There was a pull in my chest, the strange magnetic draw that flared hot. I wanted to step closer, and I wanted to run. Both at once.
"I cannot abandon my pack." "Your pack is already planning to abandon you." His voice roughened, but not unkindly. "I overheard your father speaking to mine. They are discussing contingencies. Ways to contain you if the ceremony goes wrong."
Chest squeezed tight. "You are lying."
"Am I?" He held my gaze. "When was the last time he looked at you like a daughter instead of a problem to solve?"
The question cut deep. This morning, the distance in his eyes has a tone that says 'liability' more than 'blood.'
"Even if that is true, running solves nothing. The hollow stays inside me."
"Maybe. But at least you stay alive long enough to fight it."
Immediately, glass shattered inside the house. Shouts erupted and we rushed back.
The Alphas stood toe-to-toe. Father's hand rested on his sword hilt, while Alpha Marcus's eyes glowed faint gold.
"You knew," Dorian said, voice deadly quiet. "You knew what she was and you brought your heir here anyway."
"I brought him because he has the right to know," Marcus answered. "They are bound, Dorian. You cannot change that."
"Bound?" My voice cracked.
Both fathers turned. Pity and resignation were carved deep into their faces.
"Tell her," Marcus said to my father. "Tell her what you have known since the night she was born."
Father's jaw worked silently. Then, in a voice I had never heard from him, cracked and thin, he said, "You are mated to him, Amira. To Jimmy, "It was written in the prophecy the night you came into the world."
The room tilted.
Jimmy spoke quietly beside me. "The Hollow Wolf's mate is always born into the family sworn to destroy it. The curse's cruellest test."
I looked at him, really looked. The pull I had felt since he stepped from the shadows last night suddenly had a name.
A shape and a heartbeat. The sun outside dipped lower. The first red stain crept across the sky.
The Blood Moon was rising and time bled out with it. But deep inside my chest, something ancient uncoiled.
It stretched and tasted the air, then it whispered one word against the inside of my skull. "Soon."