Every footstep in the Alpha’s halls echoed louder than usual. Every command snapped like a whip. Ronan’s movements were fast, deliberate, and seen by all. Word had spread: he was preparing to ride.
“Gather the scouts. Arm the trackers. Have the mounts ready before nightfall,” he ordered, voice sharp.
No one questioned him, but they didn’t cheer either. Heads bowed, eyes lowered, and the silence after each command grew heavier. Behind closed doors, whispers crept like ivy across stone.
“She’s alive.”
“She’s more than alive—she’s changing things.”
“She carries something powerful.”
In the council chamber, the elders faced him like stone guardians.
“You’re mobilizing a force without council approval,” one said. “This is a breach of protocol.”
“She is no longer Luna,” added another. “You risk war for a title already stripped.”
Ronan didn’t flinch. “She carries my sons.”
“And something else,” Elder Kess said. “The wolves are talking. Not just Northcrest—every region hears it. She’s different now. Her aura is... unnatural.”
“You’re all chasing rumors,” Ronan snapped. “Half-spoken lies from wolves who never saw her strength.”
“Strength?” Kess challenged. “She’s survived exile. She’s raised heirs. And now she draws attention from the crown.”
“She’s no longer who you cast out,” another elder said. “She’s become something more than you ever let her be.”
Ronan’s jaw clenched. “She was mine.”
“Was,” Kess repeated. “She’s not coming back to play Luna. She might return to claim the throne.”
The doors opened, slicing through the mounting tension. Amaris stepped inside, boots echoing. Her eyes swept the room like she already knew the outcome. “
You’re missing the truth,” she said. “This is bigger than any of us.”
Ronan turned. “Tell me.”
She held up a scroll. “The Lycan King issued another summons. They’re searching again.”
“For who?” one elder asked.
“A female rogue,” Amaris said. “Aura tied to royal blood. They believe she’s alive.”
“Rumors,” another elder scoffed.
“No,” she said. “Descriptions match exactly. Silver eyes. Twin sons. Rogue lands. A scarred male who defends her like a bonded mate.”
Ronan’s nostrils flared. “Thorne Rhygar.”
She nodded. “They know she’s not just hiding. She’s being protected. And she’s powerful.”
“She’s not theirs to claim,” Ronan growled. “She belongs to me.”
“No,” Amaris replied, voice firm. “She belonged to you. But if the King finds her first—”
“He won’t.”
“—then she may never come back to you. Not by law. Not by bond. Not by blood.”
An elder stood slowly. “If the King confirms what they suspect, she’ll be named heir. She won’t return to Northcrest. She’ll rise above it.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Ronan said.
“Then move faster,” Amaris said, crossing her arms. “Because the crown’s reach is long, and they already have a head start.”
***
Far to the south, in the capital’s highest tower, King Alaric Damaris stood alone beside the fire. His eyes burned with quiet hope. A knight entered, scroll in hand.
“My king,” he said, lowering to one knee. “It’s from the southern scouts.” Alaric took the scroll. His fingers hesitated at the seal. Slowly, he opened it. The knight’s voice was careful.
“They’ve located a female rogue. Matching your mate’s aura...and she has two sons.”