“Callan, this isn’t up for debate,” Elder Rokan’s voice rang through the council chamber, sharp with authority.
Abigail stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, trying to ignore the growing tension gnawing at her chest. The elders had summoned them both at dawn, their grim expressions enough to put her on edge. Callan, seated at the head of the long table, looked calm, but Abigail could see his knuckles tightening against the carved wood.
“I don’t care what some ancient prophecy says,” Callan growled, his golden eyes narrowing. “We don’t need to rely on fairy tales to protect this kingdom. My strategy will work.”
Elder Rokan let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can dismiss it all you like, but the signs are undeniable. The Moon Goddess has made her will known.”
“Enough with the cryptic nonsense,” Callan snapped, leaning forward. “If you have something to say, say it.”
Rokan’s gaze flicked to Abigail before settling back on Callan. “The prophecy speaks of a great war—one that will decide the future of all wolves. It says only a bonded Alpha and his healer mate can stop the destruction.”
The room fell silent. Abigail’s breath hitched, and she felt every gaze shift toward her. She gritted her teeth, refusing to show any sign of weakness.
Callan’s laugh broke the silence, sharp and humorless. “Convenient, isn’t it?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The moment I accept the bond, you start spouting this nonsense about us being destined saviors.”
“It’s not nonsense!” Rokan thundered, slamming his hand on the table. “The Moon Goddess does not play games, Callan. The two of you are meant to lead us through this storm. But the prophecy comes with a warning.”
Abigail stiffened, her unease growing. “What warning?” she asked, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach.
Rokan turned to her, his eyes heavy with something that looked like pity. “It speaks of betrayal. Someone close to you—someone you trust—will turn against you. If that happens, it could destroy everything.”
The words hung in the air like a blade poised to drop. Abigail’s mind raced, searching for answers that refused to come.
“That’s enough,” Callan said sharply, standing from his seat. “We have enough enemies outside these walls without planting seeds of paranoia within them. If someone close to me betrays us, I’ll deal with it. End of discussion.”
Rokan’s jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. “Very well. But ignore the Goddess’s warnings at your own peril.”
Abigail stormed out of the council chamber, her chest tight and her thoughts spinning. The prophecy felt like a noose tightening around her neck, and Callan’s dismissal only made it worse.
“Abigail, wait!”
She stopped in the hallway, her shoulders stiff as Callan caught up to her.
“What do you want, Callan?” she asked without turning around, her voice flat.
“You’ve barely said a word,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She turned to face him, her green eyes blazing with frustration. “What’s going on? I’m trying to figure out if any of this is real or if I’m just a pawn in some grand plan you don’t even believe in.”
Callan flinched, but his expression quickly hardened. “You think I’m using you? Is that what this is about?”
“I don’t know!” Abigail snapped, throwing her hands up. “One minute, you’re pushing me away. The next, you’re telling me I’m the most important person in your life. Now there’s some prophecy saying we’re destined to save the world together. How am I supposed to trust you when everything feels like a game to you?”
Callan stepped closer, his golden eyes locking onto hers. “It’s not a game, Abigail. Not to me. I don’t care about the prophecy or destiny or whatever nonsense the elders believe. What I care about is keeping you safe.”
Her laugh was bitter, cutting. “Safe? You’re doing a terrible job of it. You keep dragging me into chaos, and now I’m supposed to trust that you care about me? Or do you just care about what I can do for you?”
His jaw clenched, his temper barely held in check. “I’ve made mistakes, Abigail. I know that. But don’t stand there and tell me I don’t care about you.”
“Then prove it,” she said, her voice trembling. “Because right now, it feels like I’m just another responsibility you resent.”
Callan stared at her, his frustration boiling over. “You think I resent you? I’ve sacrificed everything for this pack—my pride, my sanity—and now I have to convince you that I want you?”
“Yes!” Abigail shouted, her voice cracking. “Because I don’t know if I believe it anymore!”
The bond between them crackled like a storm, pulling them closer even as their emotions tore them apart. Abigail’s chest heaved as she tried to calm herself, but the look on Callan’s face—hurt, anger, desperation—made it impossible.
“I don’t know what else you want me to do,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “But I’m not going to let you go.”
Abigail’s heart ached, but she turned away, her voice barely a whisper. “Maybe you already have.”
That night, Abigail lay awake in her chamber, her mind racing with everything the elders had said. The prophecy, the bond, the betrayal—it all felt too big, too heavy.
A creak from the far side of the room made her freeze. She sat up slowly, her wolf stirring uneasily as her eyes darted to the shadows.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice steady despite the chill running down her spine.
The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long, and then she saw it—a glint of steel in the moonlight.
Abigail’s instincts took over. She rolled off the bed just as the blade slashed through the air, missing her by inches. A figure loomed over her, their face obscured by a dark hood.
She scrambled to her feet, her wolf surging forward as she let out a warning growl. “Who sent you?”
The assassin didn’t answer, lunging at her again. Abigail dodged, grabbing a heavy candlestick from the bedside table and swinging it with all her strength. The figure crumpled to the floor with a grunt, the knife clattering from their hand.
The door burst open, and Callan was there in an instant, his golden eyes blazing with fury as he took in the scene.
“Abigail!” he growled, rushing to her side. His gaze snapped to the assassin, who was groaning on the floor.
“Who is this?” Abigail asked, her voice shaking.
Callan knelt, yanking the hood back to reveal a familiar face—one of the palace guards.
“A traitor,” Callan growled, his wolf barely restrained.