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Malia Pierce at the age of nineteen was alone, constantly moving in fear she would be hunted down and found by her tormentors. She is the Alpha’s daughter of the Phobos pack, where father, and his whole pack despised her just for her existence. He became a ruthless man, turning to drugs and alcohol. He started to abuse her at the age of 5, the young child not able to comprehend what was happening and why. His pack was falling apart and was running out of money. So, her father sold her to a pack of sadistic men when she was 15. She has been never shown love or compassion, afraid to trust.

Orion Black is the 21 year old Alpha of the Mountain Ridge pack. He was taught from little up to treat ladies with respect and decency. His name was given to him after the Greek hunter, Orion, because he would be known for his strength and his ability to lead and keep his pack safe. He has been looking for his mate since he was 16, the time of his first shift, but she has never showed.

Chapter 1

Malia’s POV

The silver collar seared against my throat like liquid fire, each shallow breath sending fresh waves of agony through my raw skin. I pulled against the heavy chains, testing their strength for the thousandth time, though I knew it was useless. The bitter mountain cold had long since numbed my paws, seeping through my thinning fur coat to settle deep in my bones.

Two years. Two years since my father had sold me to these monsters, and still, they kept me chained like a rabid animal. My wolf form had become my prison—I was too weak now to shift back, too broken to remember what it felt like to stand on two legs.

The snow crunched beneath my restless pacing, my movements limited to a small circle by the chain’s cruel length. Through the gaps in the towering pines, I could see her—the copper-colored wolf chained several hundred yards away. New arrival. Maybe three days old to this hell. Her whimpers carried on the wind, mixing with the metallic scent of old blood that never quite left this place.

She wouldn’t last long. They never did.

My ears pricked at the sound of approaching footsteps, heavy and deliberate through the frozen underbrush. Butch. Even before I saw his bulky frame emerge from the shadows, I knew his gait, had memorized the particular rhythm of danger approaching.

“Fight day, princess,” he growled, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. “You know the drill. Try to run, and I’ll put a bullet in that pretty head of yours.”

His thick fingers fumbled with the chain, unhooking it from my collar. The moment of freedom was an illusion—his meaty hand immediately grabbed my scruff, fingers digging into the tender flesh where the collar had rubbed me raw. I bit back a whine as he dragged me through the forest, my legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

The arena materialized through the trees—nothing more than a clearing where the snow had been trampled down to frozen mud, stained rust-brown with the blood of countless fights. The stench hit me like a physical blow: iron, fear, and death mingling with the excitement rolling off the gathering crowd of men.

They formed a circle as Butch shoved me forward, their hands reaching out to grab at my fur, yanking my ears, landing quick punches on my ribs when I passed. I kept my head down, conserving my strength. I’d learned long ago that fighting back now only meant having less energy for the real battle ahead.

My opponent waited in the center—a brown wolf, larger than most females. A gamma’s daughter, perhaps. Her coat hung loose on her frame, matted with dried blood and filth. We locked eyes across the makeshift arena, and I saw my own desperation reflected back at me. We both understood what losing meant.

“Place your bets!” The ring leader’s voice boomed over the crowd. “Tonight’s main event—our longest-surviving fighter against the brown bitch!”

Money changed hands rapidly, crumpled bills and promises of payment flying between the men. They pressed closer, forming an impenetrable wall of bodies reeking of alcohol and bloodlust.

“You both know the rules,” the ring leader continued, his scarred face split by a grotesque grin. “First blood scores points. Death wins the match. BEGIN!”

The brown wolf lunged before the word fully left his lips. Her weight slammed into me, driving me into the frozen ground. Her jaws snapped frantically at my throat, hot breath and saliva spraying across my face. Instinct took over—my hind legs came up, claws extended, finding purchase in the soft flesh of her belly.

She howled, crimson blooming across her white underbelly as she staggered back. The crowd roared their approval, but I barely heard them. My focus narrowed to the wolf circling me, her lips pulled back in a snarl that revealed yellowed fangs.

We collided again in a tangle of teeth and claws. She managed to sink her teeth into my shoulder, sending white-hot pain shooting down my leg. I twisted, using her grip against her, and clamped my jaws around her foreleg. The crack of bone was audible even over the crowd’s cheering.

We rolled across the blood-slicked ground, each seeking the advantage. She made a desperate lunge for my exposed flank, but in her pain and exhaustion, she left her neck unguarded.

Time seemed to slow as my teeth found her throat. Her blood filled my mouth, thick and metallic, as my jaw tightened inexorably. She thrashed beneath me, her claws raking down my sides in frantic desperation, but I held on with grim determination.

The crowd’s screams reached a fever pitch. “Finish her! Finish her!”

I felt the moment her windpipe collapsed, heard the wet gurgle of her final breath. Her body went limp, and I released my grip, stepping back from the corpse. Blood—hers and mine—dripped steadily onto the stained snow.

The men erupted in celebration and fury alike, money changing hands as bets were settled. I stood there, swaying slightly, as Butch approached with my chain.

“Good girl,” he said, as if I were nothing more than a well-trained dog. “You’ve earned your supper tonight.”

As he led me back to my tree, I tried not to think about the light fading from the brown wolf’s eyes, tried not to wonder if she’d had a family once, a pack that missed her.

In this place, there was only one rule that mattered: kill or be killed.

And I was still breathing.

Chapter 2

Malia’s POV

The scream shattered the night’s stillness, high and terrified, followed by the panicked yips of the other females chained throughout the forest. I jerked awake, instantly alert, my muscles coiled tight despite the exhaustion weighing down my bones.

Fire.

The acrid smell of burning oak filled my nostrils before I saw the orange glow dancing between the trees. My hackles rose instinctively, every nerve screaming danger. The men’s drunken laughter echoed through the darkness—another one of their “parties” where they drowned themselves in cheap liquor and cheaper thrills.

But something was different tonight. The smell of gasoline cut through the smoke, sharp and wrong.

Shadows moved between the trees, and then I saw them—men running with torches held high, their faces painted orange by the flames. They moved with purpose, not stumbling like usual when they were drunk. This was planned.

“Time to clean house, boys!” someone shouted, and my blood turned to ice.

The copper wolf’s screams pierced the air as flames encircled her tree. I could see her silhouette thrashing against her chains, the fire ring closing in, her desperate yanks only tightening the collar around her throat. The smell of burning fur and flesh began to permeate the air.

Then footsteps approached me. Deliberate. Measured.

A man emerged from the shadows—scarred face, dead eyes, carrying a metal canister. The gasoline hit my back before I could react, seeping into the wounds from yesterday’s fight. The pain was immediate and blinding. I bit back a howl as the chemicals burned into my raw flesh, my vision blurring with tears I couldn’t stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. His lighter flicked open with a soft click. “Nothing personal.”

He tossed the torch at my head, but instinct saved me—I knocked it aside with my muzzle, sending it spinning into my tree instead. The old oak caught immediately, dry bark crackling as flames raced up its trunk.

The chain that had held me captive for two years suddenly became my lifeline. I threw my weight against it, pulling with strength I didn’t know I still possessed. The burning tree groaned above me, weakening with each second.

Around me, the forest had become hell. Wolves screamed in the darkness, their cries mixing with the roar of spreading flames. The smoke grew thicker, choking, making each breath agony.

The tree gave a final, shuddering crack.

I ran.

The chain dragged behind me for a moment before catching on something, snapping taut. The collar dug into my throat one last time before the weakened tree finally gave way, and suddenly I was free. Actually free.

I ran harder than I’d ever run in my life, my legs pumping despite their protests, my lungs burning from smoke and exertion. Behind me, the screams continued—wolves I’d fought beside, wolves I’d killed friends of, all crying out for help that would never come.

Each cry was a knife in my chest, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. If they caught me now, there would be no chains this time. Only death.

The forest blurred past in a nightmare of shadow and flame. I ran through streams to mask my scent, over rocky terrain that shredded my already damaged paws, through thick underbrush that tore at my thinning coat.

Hours passed. Maybe days. Time lost meaning in the endless cycle of putting one paw in front of the other, of forcing my body forward when every fiber screamed to collapse.

When the sun finally began to rise, painting the sky a soft pink through the trees, I was miles away. The smell of smoke had faded, replaced by clean mountain air and pine.

My legs gave out without warning. I crumpled into the snow, my body finally refusing to take another step. My vision swam, darkness creeping in from the edges. Some part of me knew I should find shelter, should stay alert for danger, but I had nothing left to give.

As unconsciousness claimed me, one thought echoed through my mind:

I was free. Broken, bleeding, alone—but free.

—

Chapter 3

Malia’s POV

I woke gasping, my hands flying to my throat, searching for the collar that wasn’t there. The nightmare—no, the memory—clung to me like smoke, the screams of dying wolves still echoing in my ears. Two years since that night, and still, I woke expecting chains.

The motel room came into focus slowly. Peeling wallpaper, water-stained ceiling, the perpetual smell of cigarette smoke that no amount of air freshener could mask. But it had a bed and a door that locked, and that was luxury enough.

I pulled my knees to my chest, pressing my palms against my ears, trying to block out the phantom sounds. Their voices haunted me—the copper wolf who’d lasted only days, the brown wolf whose throat I’d torn out, countless others whose names I never learned. They visited me in sleep, asking why I survived when they didn’t.

I had no answer.

The clock read 4:47 AM. Dawn was still hours away, but I knew sleep wouldn’t return. It never did after the nightmares. I swung my legs over the bed’s edge, noting how my ribs no longer jutted out quite so sharply, how my muscles had slowly begun to rebuild themselves over these two years of freedom.

Freedom. The word still felt foreign.

I’d learned to steal when necessary, to take only what I needed to survive. The collar and chain had fetched enough at a scrap yard to keep me moving, staying ahead of anyone who might be looking. Whether my father searched for me or the fighting ring survivors sought revenge, I couldn’t know. So I kept running.

The shower water ran brown with dirt and dried blood from yesterday’s hunt—a rabbit I’d caught at dusk, eaten raw in wolf form because I couldn’t risk a fire. I watched it swirl down the drain, remembering when my own blood had run that color, when every day ended with new wounds.

I dressed in clothes from a donation bin—faded jeans, oversized flannel shirt, boots with the sole separating from the left one. My reflection in the cracked mirror showed a stranger: cheekbones less sharp from starvation, eyes that had lost some of their constant terror. Still too thin, still too wary, but no longer the walking skeleton who’d escaped that burning forest.

The morning air bit sharp and clean as I stepped outside. No one else stirred in the run-down motel parking lot. I shouldered my single backpack, everything I owned fitting in its worn canvas depths, and headed for the tree line.

I’d been walking for three hours when I caught the scent—wolves. Multiple. Fresh.

Pack territory.

My first instinct was to run, but exhaustion won. I’d been walking all night, my legs trembling with fatigue. Just a few hours’ rest, I told myself. I’d stay hidden, sleep, and move on before anyone noticed. I’d done it before.

That was my first mistake.

The second was letting my guard down when the rabbit trail distracted me, my hunger overriding caution.

The third was not sensing the rogues until they surrounded me.

Four of them, lean and scarred, with the particular madness that came from too long without pack bonds. Their leader, gray-furred and massive, stepped forward with lips pulled back from yellowed fangs.

I tried to run. They were faster.

The gray wolf’s weight slammed me down, his teeth seeking my throat while the others tore at anything they could reach. Pain exploded across my body—familiar agony that sent me back to the fighting ring, to every brutal battle for survival. My wolf pushed forward, desperate, lending me her strength.

We caught one’s throat, tearing it out in a spray of arterial blood. But there were too many. My strength, built from two years of survival, wasn’t enough against four. Blood loss made my vision swim, my movements sluggish.

The gray wolf’s jaws closed on my throat—

A roar shook the forest.

The weight disappeared from my back. Snarling, snapping, the sound of bodies hitting trees. Through my blurred vision, I saw him—a black wolf, larger than any I’d ever seen, throwing my attackers aside like toys.

The remaining rogues fled.

I tried to stand, to run while this new threat was distracted, but my legs wouldn’t hold. The darkness rushed up, and the last thing I saw was the black wolf shifting, becoming a man who reached for me with gentle hands.

“It’s okay,” a deep voice said. “You’re safe now.”

I wanted to laugh. Safe didn’t exist in my world.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 4

Malia’s POV

Sunlight pierced through unfamiliar curtains, landing directly on my face. I groaned, attempting to roll away from the brightness, but white-hot pain shot through my ribs, stealing my breath. My eyes snapped open, instantly alert.

This wasn’t the motel. This wasn’t anywhere I recognized.

The room was clean—actually clean, not the surface-level attempt at cleanliness that cheap motels managed. Soft blue walls, white trim, medical equipment humming quietly beside the bed I lay in. Through a large window, mountain peaks stretched toward the sky, their snow-capped summits glowing in the morning light.

Pack house. The realization hit me like ice water. I was in a pack house.

My heartbeat spiked, the monitors beside me beeping in response. I needed to leave. Now.

I catalogued my injuries quickly—broken ribs, definitely. Stitches pulling across my back. My right leg throbbed beneath crisp white bandages. Someone had changed my clothes, put me in an oversized navy shirt that smelled of lavender detergent and something else. Pine. Leather. Male.

The window was my best option. No navigating hallways filled with wolves who’d want to know who I was, why I was here. Just glass between me and freedom.

I sat up slowly, biting back a whimper as my ribs protested. My arms shook with the effort, muscles still weak from blood loss. The IV in my arm would have to go—they’d probably have it connected to an alarm. I’d have seconds, maybe a minute at most.

I ripped out the IV, and immediately, a distant beeping echoed down the hallway. Footsteps followed—two sets, one heavy, one light. Moving fast.

Panic flooded my system. I stood, nearly collapsing as my leg buckled. The wall caught me, cool against my palm as I half-hopped, half-dragged myself toward the window. My fingers fumbled with the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. Painted shut or locked—didn’t matter which.

The footsteps were closer. I grabbed a chair, lifting it above my head despite my screaming ribs—

The door burst open.

A man filled the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, with bronze hair and concerned brown eyes. Beta, my wolf supplied, sensing his rank immediately. He moved faster than I could track, pulling the chair from my hands with gentle efficiency.

“Whoa there! Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I pressed against the wall, trying to make myself smaller. My throat felt tight, words locked behind years of conditioning. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t make noise when males are angry. Don’t—

“I’m Caspian,” he said, raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Beta of the Mountain Ridge pack. Call me Casper. You’re safe here.”

Safe. That word again. These wolves kept using it like it meant something.

He extended his hand, waiting for me to shake it. When I remained frozen against the wall, he sighed and lowered it. “What’s your name?”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Even if I wanted to answer, my voice felt buried beneath layers of fear and conditioning. The silence stretched between us until a woman appeared in the doorway—petite, with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile.

“I couldn’t find the doctor,” she said, then noticed my defensive position. Her expression softened further.

“That’s my mate, Blaire,” Caspian explained. “Could you give us a minute?”

She nodded and disappeared. My shoulders dropped slightly with one less person to watch.

“Look, how about you sit down? Those ribs must be killing you.”

He wasn’t wrong. Each breath felt like knives between my ribs. I limped to the bed, keeping my eyes on him as he pulled up a chair, maintaining distance between us. Smart. He understood I was a flight risk.

“W-why am I here?” The words scraped out, hoarse from disuse.

His eyes widened slightly—surprise that I’d spoken at all. “I found you near our border two nights ago. The rogues… I intervened before they could kill you. You were badly injured, so I brought you here for medical attention.”

Two nights. I’d been unconscious and vulnerable for two nights.

“I, uh, changed your shirt,” he added, a blush creeping up his neck. “The one you had was destroyed, and you needed treatment…”

I nodded, not trusting my voice again. The door opened, and an older man in a white coat entered—the doctor, clearly. Blood spattered his scrubs, and I pressed back into the pillows instinctively.

“Beta Caspian,” the doctor acknowledged with a respectful nod, then turned to me with a grandfatherly smile. “Hello, sweetheart. I’m Dr. Brown. I need to check your injuries, make sure they’re healing properly. Is that alright?”

I hesitated but nodded. Running was impossible in this condition anyway.

His hands were clinical but gentle as he unwound bandages, checked stitches, made notes on a clipboard. Caspian turned away when the doctor lifted my shirt to examine my ribs, offering privacy I hadn’t expected.

“You’re healing well,” Dr. Brown announced, producing two pill bottles. “Antibiotics for infection prevention, painkillers for when you need them. You’re cleared to leave the medical wing, but take it easy.”

Leave the medical wing. Not leave entirely. I was still trapped, just in a larger cage.

“Would you like to shower?” Caspian asked after the doctor left. “Blaire can bring you clothes and show you to a room.”

I nodded. Two days of unconsciousness, of strangers touching me while I couldn’t defend myself—I needed to wash that feeling away.

Blaire returned with a wheelchair and an armful of clothes. Her cheerfulness felt genuine, not forced. “I’m Blaire. You’re Malia, right?”

I nodded, wondering how she knew.

She wheeled me through hallways that spoke of money and stability—clean walls, family photos, the smell of furniture polish and fresh flowers. This pack was wealthy, established. Dangerous.

The room she showed me to was nicer than anywhere I’d stayed in years. A queen bed with actual sheets, not the thin, questionable blankets of motels. An ensuite bathroom with a massive tub.

“The water gets really hot,” Blaire explained, showing me the taps. “Towels are fresh, and I brought several outfit options since I wasn’t sure what would fit.”

She left me alone, and I locked the door behind her. The bath filled slowly, steam rising like a promise of warmth I hadn’t felt in so long. I sank into the water, watching it turn pink with the blood of rogues, of fights, of survival.

For the first time in two years, I was clean, warm, and safe.

The last part was definitely a lie I told myself, but for now, in this moment, I let myself believe it.

—

Chapter 5

Malia’s POV

Recovery was a strange concept when you’d never been allowed to heal properly before. Three days had passed since I’d woken in the medical wing, and my wolf was restless, pacing in my mind like the caged animal we’d once been.

The Mountain Ridge pack territory sprawled for miles—I’d discovered that much during my careful explorations. Dense forest, mountain streams, untouched wilderness that called to my wolf. But it was still a territory, still bordered, still controlled by an Alpha I’d yet to meet.

Caspian had mentioned him only once, saying he was away searching for something. The pack’s nervous energy suggested they expected him back soon. Good. Maybe I could leave before then, before getting tangled in pack politics I wanted no part of.

This afternoon, I ran as wolf through the unfamiliar terrain, my tongue still sweet with deer blood from a successful hunt. My ribs had healed enough to allow running, though sharp turns still sent twinges of pain through my side. I leaped over a fallen cedar, following the stream I’d memorized as the path back to the pack house.

Strange, how quickly I’d mapped their territory. Stranger still, how they’d simply let me roam. No chains, no guards, no threats about what would happen if I tried to run. Caspian had given me freedom I didn’t know how to handle.

The pack house came into view through the trees—a massive structure that looked more like a luxury resort than the rundown pack houses I’d known. I’d hidden my borrowed clothes behind an oak, quickly shifting and dressing in Blaire’s jeans and maroon shirt. The clothes fit better than anything I’d owned in years.

The moment I stepped through the front door, the smell hit me—rosemary, garlic, roasted meat, fresh bread. My stomach clenched with a hunger that had nothing to do with the deer I’d just eaten. When had I last eaten cooked food? Real food?

But accepting their food felt like accepting their help, and I’d survived this long on my own. I didn’t need anyone’s charity.

I was heading for the stairs when glass shattered in the kitchen, followed by a shrill squeal that made my sensitive ears ring.

“Eek! Who let a rogue in?!”

I turned to find a blonde woman clutching her nose dramatically, her blue eyes wide with disgust. Everything about her screamed high-maintenance—from her perfectly styled hair to her designer heels that clicked against the tile as she backed away from me.

“Seriously?” I found myself thinking. “I showered. I’m wearing clean clothes.”

She dropped her hand, her face contorting further. “Oh, I can’t wait for Alpha to get back tomorrow. I’ll make him dispose of you the moment he steps foot on this territory.”

Alpha. Tomorrow. My blood chilled, but I kept my expression neutral, maybe even bored.

“Oh, sweetie,” her voice pitched higher, dripping with false sweetness. “The only reason he’s out there is looking for his mate. When he realizes she doesn’t exist, he’ll come running to me because I’m the perfect Luna material.”

Ah. One of those. Every pack had them—she-wolves who thought the Alpha position was their birthright, who’d do anything to claim that power. I’d seen enough of them in my father’s pack, before…

I covered a yawn and turned away, heading for the stairs. Her shriek of outrage followed me, along with demands for someone to clean up her mess.

Back in my room—not my room, the room they’d given me—I locked the door and slid down against it. My hands shook as I pulled my knees to my chest.

An Alpha was coming. Tomorrow.

Every Alpha I’d known had been cruel. My father, who’d beaten me for existing. The ones who’d visited our pack, who’d looked at me like I was dirt beneath their boots. The ones who ran fighting rings, who bet on our blood.

This one would be no different. The blonde had confirmed what I’d suspected—I was here on borrowed time. The Beta might have saved me, but the Alpha would decide my fate. And no Alpha wanted rogues in their territory.

I should run. Tonight, while I still could.

But my wolf whined, resisting the thought. She’d been acting strange since we’d arrived, calmer than she should be in foreign territory. It made no sense.

A knock at my door made me jump.

“Malia?” Blaire’s voice, gentle. “I brought you dinner, in case you’re hungry.”

I didn’t answer. After a moment, I heard a tray being set down and footsteps walking away.

When I finally opened the door an hour later, the food was still warm—soup, fresh bread, even a slice of chocolate cake. A kindness I didn’t know how to accept.

I ate at the window, watching the sun set behind the mountains, trying not to think about how this might be my last sunset in comfort. Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, the Alpha would return and decide what to do with the rogue in his territory.

My reflection in the window showed what he would see—a damaged wolf with trust issues and too many scars. Not pack material. Never pack material.

The tears that rolled down my cheeks surprised me. I hadn’t cried in years, not since I’d learned tears only made the punishments worse. But here, alone in this too-nice room with a full stomach and clean clothes, I let them fall.

Tomorrow, I’d likely be running again.

Tonight, I let myself pretend I belonged somewhere.

—

Chapter 6

Malia’s POV

The morning arrived too quickly, bringing with it a frenetic energy that infected the entire pack house. I’d been awake since 3 AM, sitting at my window, watching pack members scurry about in preparation for their Alpha’s return. The scene below looked like worker ants preparing for their queen—if ants wore designer clothes and drove sports cars.

Every surface was being polished, every meal being perfected, every warrior practicing their forms in the training grounds. The nervous excitement in the air was palpable, even from my second-floor window.

I should have run last night. Should have taken my chances in the wilderness rather than wait for whatever judgment was coming. But my wolf had fought me every step toward the door, whining and resisting in a way she never had before. So I’d stayed, and now it was too late.

A sleek black car pulled into the driveway just after noon—a Ferrari, because of course it was. I couldn’t see him through the crowd that immediately swarmed the vehicle, but I could feel the power ripple through the territory. Alpha power, dominant and overwhelming, making my wolf stir restlessly.

I grabbed the leather jacket Blaire had given me, shoving my hands in the pockets to hide their trembling. If I was going to face an Alpha’s judgment, I’d do it on my feet, not cowering in a borrowed room.

The main floor was chaos—pack members everywhere, all trying to get closer to their returning leader. I slipped through them like a ghost, keeping my head down, making myself small and unnoticeable. A skill I’d perfected years ago.

“Isn’t that the Ferrari F12 Berlinetta?” someone whispered reverently.

“I don’t know about his car, but I’d love to take a ride on him,” the blonde from yesterday giggled to her friends, their laughter grating against my ears.

I escaped to the backyard, where hundreds of tables had been set up for what looked like a celebration feast. Of course there’d be a party. Packs loved their hierarchies, their displays of power and wealth.

An old elm tree stood at the edge of the festivities, its thick trunk providing shadows to hide in. I leaned against it, trying to calm my racing heart. From here, I could watch the house’s back entrance, could see him when he inevitably came to deal with the rogue problem.

Children ran between the tables, laughing without fear, and I envied them their innocence. They’d never known what it was like to be unwanted, to be sold, to be nothing but entertainment for cruel men.

The back door opened, and my breath caught.

He was… not what I’d expected.

Tall, yes. Powerful, absolutely. But where my father had worn his dominance like a weapon, this Alpha simply existed with it, natural as breathing. Dark hair slightly mussed from the wind, strong jaw, movements fluid with controlled strength. He looked tired, scanning the crowd with an expression I couldn’t read.

Then he stopped. His entire body went rigid, nose lifting slightly to scent the air.

His eyes found mine across the yard, and the world tilted.

Black eyes met mine—not cold like my father’s had been, but burning with something I didn’t understand. My wolf surged forward so suddenly I almost shifted right there, crying out a single word that made no sense:

*Mate.*

No. No, no, no.

I ran.

Not away from the party—that would have drawn attention. Instead, I slipped back into the house, taking the stairs three at a time, my leg protesting but functional. I locked my door and pressed my back against it, sliding down until I sat on the floor.

Mate. The Alpha was my mate.

The Moon Goddess had a sick sense of humor. After everything—after my father, after the fighting ring, after years of running from Alphas and their cruelty—she’d paired me with one. The very thing I feared most in this world was supposed to be my other half.

My wolf whined, confused by my rejection, by the panic flooding our system. She didn’t understand. She’d never experienced what Alpha power could do when it turned cruel. She only knew that our mate was here, that he’d looked at us like we were something precious instead of something to be disposed of.

A knock at my door made my heart stop.

“Malia?” Caspian’s voice, not the Alpha’s. “Could you come down? Alpha Orion would like to meet you.”

Orion. The hunter constellation. The warrior of the sky.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” I managed, my voice steadier than my hands.

I stood slowly, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Same scarred girl who’d survived hell. Same trust issues and damage. Nothing about me was Luna material—the blonde had been right about that, even if she’d been wrong about him choosing her.

But I was also a survivor. I’d faced worse than rejection from a mate I didn’t want anyway.

I could do this.

Chapter 7

Malia’s POV

Dawn hadn’t even broken, but the pack house buzzed with activity. I could hear them through my window—warriors sparring in the training grounds, their growls and snarls echoing through the cold morning air. The kitchen staff had been working since midnight, preparing what smelled like enough food to feed an army.

All for him. Their Alpha. My mate.

I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass, trying to quiet the chaos in my mind. Three days since I’d run from him in the yard. Three days of successfully avoiding Orion Black while my wolf howled in protest. Caspian had stopped knocking after the first day, seeming to understand I needed space.

But space wouldn’t last forever. Alphas didn’t like being denied.

My past haunted me in ways that made accepting a mate—especially an Alpha mate—impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s face twisted in rage. Felt the whip across my back. Heard his voice telling me I was worthless, unwanted, a mistake that killed my mother.

*”You are a bastard child!”*

The memory hit so hard I gasped, clutching my ears. Even now, years later, his words carved fresh wounds.

*”I hate you!”*

*”You killed your own mother!”*

I curled into a ball in the corner of my room, rocking slightly as the memories crashed over me in waves. The basement. The chains. The smell of my own blood on concrete. The first time he’d sold me to those men, telling them I was worthless except as entertainment.

My wolf whimpered, trying to comfort me, but she couldn’t understand. She’d kept me alive through it all, but she hadn’t felt the human side of the torture. The emotional destruction that came with being betrayed by the one person who should have protected you.

A soft knock interrupted my spiral.

“Malia?” Not Caspian this time. The voice was deeper, rougher with exhaustion. Orion. “I know you’re awake. I can… feel it.”

The mate bond. Even incomplete, even unwanted, it connected us in ways I couldn’t control.

“I’m not going to force you to see me,” he continued through the door. “I just… wanted you to know I’m here. When you’re ready.”

His footsteps retreated, and I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. No demands. No Alpha commands. Just patience I didn’t know how to process.

I needed to run. Not from the pack this time, but from my own mind. I climbed out the window, scaling down the drainage pipe with practiced ease. The forest called to me, promising the kind of peace only wild things understood.

I shifted mid-leap, my wolf form taking over gratefully. We ran until our lungs burned, until the physical pain drowned out the emotional agony. We hunted a rabbit, the kill clean and necessary, the blood warm and real in a way my nightmares weren’t.

By the time I returned, the sun was setting. I’d successfully avoided another day of confrontation.

But as I approached my tree to retrieve my clothes, a figure sat beneath it.

Orion looked up from the book he was reading, marking his page before setting it aside. He didn’t stand, didn’t move toward me, just watched with those dark eyes that seemed to see too much.

“Your clothes are here,” he said softly, gesturing to the neat pile beside him. “I’ll turn around.”

He did, giving me privacy to shift and change. The consideration was… unexpected.

“Thank you,” I managed, the first words I’d spoken to him directly.

He turned back slowly, his movements careful and non-threatening. “Would you sit with me? Just for a moment?”

Every instinct screamed no, but my wolf pushed forward, and I found myself lowering to the ground, maintaining several feet between us.

“Caspian told me you were hurt when he found you,” he said. “That you’d been attacked by rogues.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“He didn’t tell me more than that. Said it was your story to share, if you chose to.” He picked up a leaf, spinning it between his fingers. “I want you to know that you’re safe here. No one will hurt you in my territory.”

“You can’t promise that.” The words escaped before I could stop them, sharp with years of broken promises.

His eyes flashed with something—anger? But not at me. “You’re right. But I can promise that anyone who tries will answer to me personally.”

The possession in his voice should have frightened me. Instead, my wolf practically purred.

“Why aren’t you…” I started, then stopped.

“Why aren’t I what?”

“Demanding. Alphas take what they want.”

His jaw clenched. “Not all Alphas. And not from their mates. Never from their mates.”

The word hung between us, acknowledged at last.

“I didn’t want a mate,” I whispered.

“I know.” His voice was gentle. “But maybe… maybe we could start with friends? No expectations, no pressure. Just… getting to know each other?”

Friends. I’d never had a friend before.

“I don’t know how,” I admitted.

“Then we’ll figure it out together.”

He stood slowly, brushing off his jeans. “There’s dinner in an hour. You don’t have to come, but… you’d be welcome. You’re always welcome, Malia.”

The sound of my name in his voice did something to my chest, made it tight and warm at once.

After he left, I sat under that tree until full dark, watching stars appear one by one. Including Orion’s constellation, the hunter forever chasing prey across the night sky.

Maybe some hunts weren’t about capture. Maybe some were about the patience to wait for prey that had been running so long, it had forgotten what it felt like to stop.

—

Chapter 8

Malia’s POV

*The whip cracked across my back, tearing through skin I’d thought couldn’t hurt anymore. I was seven, maybe eight—time blurred in that basement.*

*”You killed her!” Father’s voice, slurred with whiskey. “She died because of you!”*

*The chains rattled as I tried to make myself smaller, but there was nowhere to hide. There never was.*

*”I should have let you die instead. Should have—”*

I woke screaming, my hands clutched over my ears, trying to block out words that existed only in memory now. My throat was raw—how long had I been screaming?

My door burst open. Orion stood there, eyes wild with concern, and my wolf practically collapsed with relief even as my human side cowered.

“Malia, you’re safe. It’s just a dream.” He stayed in the doorway, hands visible, not approaching despite every line of his body screaming to come closer. “Can I come in?”

I nodded, unable to speak past the sobs choking my throat.

He moved slowly, sitting on the floor near my bed but not touching. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I tried to match his breathing, using his steady presence as an anchor. Gradually, my heartbeat slowed from its panicked gallop.

“Nightmare?” he asked softly.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around my knees.

“Want to talk about it?”

I shook my head violently. Those memories were mine alone, too ugly to share.

“Okay.” He leaned back against the wall. “Then would you like me to talk? Sometimes it helps to focus on something else.”

When I nodded, he began speaking, his voice low and soothing in the darkness.

“When I was young, my mother would tell me stories about the stars. She said the Moon Goddess placed them there as a map for lost wolves to find their way home. Each constellation was a guide, a protector.”

He talked until my breathing normalized, until the trembling stopped. He talked about his parents, his training, funny stories about Caspian getting stuck in wolf form during his first shift. Normal things. Safe things.

“Thank you,” I whispered when he finally fell quiet.

“Always,” he replied, and something in his voice made me believe him. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes, my wolf said. No, my fear insisted.

“I’ll be right outside,” he compromised, seeming to read my conflict. “If you need anything, just call.”

True to his word, when I cracked my door open an hour later, he was there—sitting on the floor, back against the wall, keeping watch. He’d fallen asleep, head tilted back, and in rest, he looked younger. Less like an Alpha and more like just… a man.

I grabbed a blanket from my bed and carefully draped it over him before retreating back inside.

Maybe not all Alphas were monsters. Maybe.

—

Chapter 9

Malia’s POV

The lake stretched before me, perfectly still in the pre-dawn hour, reflecting the fading stars like captured fragments of night. I’d been coming here for three days straight, each time the nightmares drove me from sleep. It was far enough from the pack house that no one would hear if I screamed, if the memories became too much.

My wolf stared at our reflection in the water—healthier than we’d been in years, but still too thin, still marked by our past. She whined, the sound echoing across the water.

*Go back,* she urged. *Mate is worried.*

I knew he was. The bond, even uncompleted, let me feel his concern like a constant ache. He’d kept his promise—staying outside my door when the nightmares came, never pushing for more than I could give. But his patience wouldn’t last forever. Alphas weren’t built for patience.

“We can’t,” I told my wolf, speaking aloud in the solitude. “You don’t understand what Alphas do. What they’re capable of.”

*Our Alpha is different.*

“They all seem different at first.”

I slammed my hand into the water, shattering our reflection into ripples. The sun was rising, painting the mountains gold and pink. Beautiful and untouchable, like everything good in this world.

A twig snapped behind me.

I spun, crouched and ready to fight, but it was just a deer. It regarded me with liquid brown eyes before bounding away, white tail flashing. Even prey animals weren’t afraid of me anymore. I’d gone soft in this pack, let comfort dull my edges.

Time to go back. Face another day of avoiding eye contact and dodging invitations to pack dinners.

But when I returned to the pack house, something was different. The usual morning bustle was subdued, replaced by an odd tension. Blaire stood on the front porch, wringing her hands.

“Thank the Goddess,” she breathed when she saw me. “Orion’s been looking everywhere for you.”

My defenses shot up. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. He just… he was worried when you weren’t in your room. He thought…” She trailed off, but I could fill in the blanks. He thought I’d run.

“I just needed air.”

She nodded, but her eyes held questions I wasn’t ready to answer. “He’s in his office. He asked if you’d come see him when you returned.”

An order disguised as a request. I knew this dance.

But when I knocked on his office door and entered, Orion didn’t look angry. He looked exhausted, running his hands through already messed hair, papers scattered across his desk.

“You’re okay,” he said, relief evident in his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He laughed, but it held no humor. “Because you disappeared before dawn to sit alone by a lake for three hours.”

I stiffened. “You were watching me?”

“No.” He stood, moving around the desk but stopping several feet away. “But I can feel when you’re distressed through the bond. And you’ve been distressed every morning for a week.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“You’re my mate. Your pain is literally my problem.” He took a breath, visibly controlling himself. “But that’s not why I asked you here.”

He returned to his desk, pulling out a folder. “There’s going to be a pack gathering tomorrow night. Nothing formal, just a bonfire, some food. Families getting together.”

“I don’t do gatherings.”

“I know. But…” He hesitated, then pushed forward. “Some pack members have expressed concern about having an unknown wolf in the territory. If you made an appearance, just briefly, it might ease their worries.”

Politics. Even here, in this supposedly safe place, it all came down to pack politics.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t. This isn’t an order, Malia. It’s a request.”

Everything in his posture said he was telling the truth, but I’d believed lies before.

“I’ll think about it.”

He nodded, accepting that. “That’s all I ask.”

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

“Malia? The lake—it’s beautiful at sunset too. If you ever want company…”

“I don’t,” I said quickly, then softer, “but thank you.”

As I closed his door, I caught his whispered words: “I just want you to not hurt alone.”

My wolf whimpered, and for once, I agreed with her. We were hurting them both—Orion and ourselves. But hurting was safer than hoping.

Hope was the cruelest torture of all.

—

Chapter 10

Orion’s POV

The empty chair beside me mocked me throughout dinner.

My Luna’s chair—Malia’s chair—remained vacant as it had every meal since I’d returned. The warriors at my table discussed patrol schedules and training regimens, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the absence to my right.

She was pulling away more each day. This morning when she’d disappeared to the lake again, I’d felt her anguish through our bond like shards of glass in my chest. Whatever nightmares plagued her, whatever memories tormented her, she faced them alone.

Always alone.

“Alpha?” Caspian’s voice cut through my brooding. “Did you hear what I said?”

I hadn’t. I’d been staring at that damned empty chair, my chest tight with a pain that wasn’t entirely my own.

“The rogues at the eastern border,” Caspian repeated patiently. “Their numbers are increasing.”

“Double the patrols,” I said automatically. “And I want scouts checking the neighboring territories. Find out if other packs are having similar issues.”

The conversation continued around me, but my mind wandered to the girl currently hiding in the forest. I could feel her there—always aware of her location through our bond, though I’d never admit to actively monitoring it. She was anxious tonight, more than usual.

The bonfire. She was debating whether to come.

Part of me wanted to command her attendance, to use my Alpha authority to ensure she’d be there. The very thought made my wolf snarl in disgust. We would never force our mate. Never become what someone had clearly been to her before.

“You’re bleeding,” Caspian observed quietly.

I looked down. My claws had extended without my notice, digging into my palms. The wounds healed instantly, but the blood remained, stark against my skin.

“Meeting adjourned,” I said abruptly, standing. The warriors exchanged glances but filed out without question.

Caspian lingered. “She’s struggling.”

“I know.”

“You’re struggling too.”

I laughed bitterly. “I’ve been looking for my mate for five years, Cas. Five years of searching, of hoping. And now she’s here, and she can barely stand to be in the same room as me.”

“It’s not you she’s running from.”

“No, it’s what I represent. An Alpha.” I moved to the window, watching pack members setting up for tomorrow’s bonfire. “Someone hurt her. Another Alpha, I’d guess. Badly enough that she can’t separate me from that trauma.”

“Give her time.”

“I’ve been giving her time. But the pack is getting restless. They sense the incomplete bond, sense their Luna’s absence. And wolves like Veronica are using it to their advantage.”

Veronica—the blonde who’d been trying to claim the Luna position for years. She’d confronted Malia in the kitchen that first week, though Malia probably didn’t know I knew about that.

“What are you going to do?”

I turned from the window. “Wait. Hope. Try not to lose my mind when I feel her terror through the bond and can’t do anything about it.”

“That’s not sustainable.”

“Neither is pushing her.” I rubbed my face, exhaustion weighing heavy. “I just… I want her to feel safe. That’s all.”

Caspian left shortly after, and I retreated to my room. But sleep wouldn’t come. Around 2 AM, I felt it—that sharp spike of terror that meant Malia was having another nightmare.

I was at her door before I’d made the conscious decision to move.

Her screams cut through the wood like knives. Without thinking, I opened the door.

She was thrashing on the bed, hands clawing at invisible restraints, sobbing “please” and “I’m sorry” over and over.

“Malia,” I called softly, not approaching. “Malia, wake up. You’re safe.”

Her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, she didn’t seem to see me. Then recognition flooded in, followed immediately by shame.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t apologize for nightmares.” I slowly sat on the floor, maintaining distance. “Want me to stay?”

She was quiet so long I thought she’d refuse. Then, so quietly I almost missed it: “Please.”

I stayed on the floor, talking about nothing important until her breathing evened out. When she finally slept again, it was peaceful.

Progress, I told myself. Small, fragile progress.

Chapter 11

Malia’s POV

The bonfire crackled against the night sky, sending embers dancing like fireflies into the darkness. I stood at the tree line, hidden in shadow, watching the pack gather in the clearing. Families sat on logs arranged in circles, children roasted marshmallows, and the sound of laughter carried on the cool breeze.

It looked like everything I’d never had. Everything I’d never be part of.

I’d been standing here for an hour, trying to summon the courage to step into the light. My wolf pushed gently, encouragingly, reminding me that our mate was down there, waiting. Not demanding, just… waiting.

Orion sat near the fire, but his attention wasn’t on the festivities. Every few minutes, his eyes would drift to the forest, searching. When a little girl with pigtails climbed into his lap, showing him a stick she’d found, he smiled and listened to her rambling story with genuine interest.

My chest ached watching him. This gentle Alpha who sat outside my door during nightmares, who never demanded what I couldn’t give, who was nothing like—

“Planning to hide there all night?”

I jumped, spinning to find Blaire approaching with two cups of something steaming.

“Hot chocolate,” she offered, extending one to me. “With extra marshmallows. Figured if you were going to lurk in the shadows, you might as well have provisions.”

I accepted the cup, the warmth seeping into my cold fingers. “I’m not lurking.”

“No? What would you call it then?”

“Observing.”

She laughed, settling against a tree beside me. “I did the same thing when I first came here. Caspian was so patient, waiting for me to trust him. Alphas and Betas—when they find their mates, they become different people. Softer, but fiercer too, if that makes sense.”

“How long did it take?” I asked quietly. “To trust him?”

“Months. I’d been hurt before, though nothing like…” She gestured vaguely at me. “Caspian says you’re incredibly strong. That whatever you survived must have been hell.”

“I’m not strong. I’m just still alive.”

“Sometimes that’s the strongest thing you can be.”

We stood in comfortable silence, sipping our chocolate. In the clearing, Orion was now playing some sort of tag game with the children, letting them tackle him to the ground while he dramatically declared defeat.

“He’s good with them,” I observed.

“He’ll be a good father someday.” Blaire glanced at me sideways. “When he’s ready. When his mate is ready. There’s no rush.”

My face heated, and I took another sip to hide it. The thought of children, of a future beyond mere survival, felt impossibly far away.

“You know,” Blaire continued, “showing your face for five minutes would mean a lot to him. And to the pack. They’re curious about you, but not in a bad way. They want to know their Luna.”

“I’m not their Luna.”

“Aren’t you?”

Before I could respond, a commotion erupted near the fire. Veronica, the blonde from the kitchen, had approached Orion with a group of her friends. Even from a distance, I could see her touching his arm, leaning too close, her laugh carrying sharp and false through the night.

My wolf snarled, and I was moving before I realized it.

I stepped into the firelight, and conversations gradually died as pack members noticed me. Orion’s head snapped up, his eyes finding mine immediately. Something raw and relieved flickered across his face.

Veronica followed his gaze, her expression souring. “Oh. The rogue decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Malia,” Orion said, standing smoothly and displacing Veronica’s hand from his arm. “You came.”

“Briefly,” I said, hating how every eye tracked my movement as I approached.

When I got close enough, Orion did something unexpected. He held out his hand—not demanding, just offering. After a heartbeat of hesitation, I took it.

The sparks that shot up my arm made me gasp. His fingers tightened slightly, and I realized he’d felt it too. The mate bond hummed between us, stronger with physical contact.

“Everyone,” Orion addressed the pack, his voice carrying Alpha authority without being harsh. “This is Malia. She’s been recovering from injuries and adjusting to pack life. I expect you all to make her feel welcome.”

Murmurs of greeting rose from the gathered wolves. Most seemed genuinely friendly, curious but not hostile. A few of the older women smiled knowingly, recognizing a damaged wolf when they saw one.

“She can’t be your mate,” Veronica said loudly, desperation tinging her voice. “She’s a rogue. She’s nothing.”

The clearing went silent. Orion’s eyes flashed black, his wolf rising to the surface, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

“Veronica.” His voice was deadly quiet. “You will apologize. Now.”

“But Alpha—”

“NOW.”

The Alpha command rippled through the clearing. Every wolf submitted instinctively, including me, though Orion immediately softened his grip on my hand, thumb brushing apologetically over my knuckles.

Veronica’s face flushed red. “I apologize,” she bit out, then fled toward the pack house.

“Anyone else have concerns about my mate?” Orion asked the silent crowd.

Mate. He’d said it publicly. Claimed me in front of everyone.

When no one spoke, the tension gradually eased. Conversations resumed, and the little girl from earlier tugged on my free hand.

“Are you our Luna?” she asked with the directness only children possessed.

I knelt to her level, aware of Orion’s protective presence beside me. “I don’t know yet.”

“I hope you are. Alpha Orion is lonely. He pretends he’s not, but I can tell.” She leaned closer conspiratorially. “Plus, you’re pretty.”

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. “Thank you.”

The evening progressed better than expected. Orion kept our hands linked, and surprisingly, I let him. The contact grounded me when the crowd became overwhelming. Pack members approached in small groups, introducing themselves, welcoming me. No one mentioned my past or pressed for information I wasn’t ready to give.

When an elderly woman brought me a plate of food, insisting I was too thin, I actually ate it instead of making excuses. Orion’s thumb traced circles on my hand as I did, and I realized he was proud of me. For this small step. For trying.

“Want to get some air?” he asked when the crowd became too much.

I nodded gratefully. He led me away from the fire, toward the lake I’d been visiting. We sat on a large rock, shoulders almost touching, watching moonlight dance on the water.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For coming. For staying.”

“Blaire said it would mean a lot to you.”

“Did you do it for me, or because you wanted to?”

I considered lying, but found I couldn’t. “Both. My wolf… she wanted to be near you. And I… I wanted to try.”

His fingers tightened on mine. “That’s all I’ll ever ask. Just trying.”

“What if I can’t be what you need? What the pack needs?”

He turned to face me fully, his free hand rising slowly, telegraphing his movement before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You already are everything I need. Just by existing. Just by being you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Then let me learn.”

The sincerity in his voice undid something in my chest. For the first time in years, I wanted to tell someone my story. Not tonight, not all at once, but eventually.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He smiled—not the polite Alpha smile he gave the pack, but something softer, meant just for me. “Okay.”

We stayed by the lake until the bonfire died to embers, our hands linked, neither of us willing to break the fragile peace we’d found.

—

Chapter 12

Malia’s POV

Three days after the bonfire, I found myself doing something I’d never imagined—voluntarily seeking out Orion’s company.

He was in his office, surrounded by paperwork, brow furrowed in concentration. When I knocked, his head shot up, surprise flickering across his features.

“Malia. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just…” I shifted nervously. “You look stressed.”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Territory disputes. The neighboring pack thinks we’re harboring rogues who’ve been causing problems.”

“Are we?”

“No. Well, except for you, but you’re not causing problems.” He winked, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “The rogues they’re concerned about are the violent kind. The ones who’ve lost themselves.”

I knew that type. Had fought them, killed them when necessary. “Can I help?”

His eyebrows rose. “You want to help?”

“I… I know rogues. How they think, where they hide.” I moved closer to his desk, looking at the map spread across it. “If you’re trying to track them, I might have insights.”

For the next two hours, we worked side by side. I pointed out water sources rogues would gravitate toward, hidden caves perfect for dens, the types of terrain they’d avoid. Orion listened intently, asking questions without prying into how I knew these things.

“You’re brilliant,” he said when I identified a pattern in the attacks the patrol reports had missed.

“It’s just survival knowledge.”

“No, it’s more than that. You have a strategic mind.” He studied me with those intense dark eyes. “You would make an incredible Luna.”

The words hung between us, heavy with possibility and fear alike.

“Orion…”

“I know. No pressure. I just wanted you to know what I see when I look at you.”

A knock interrupted whatever I might have said. Caspian entered with urgent news—rogues had been spotted near the eastern border.

“I need to go,” Orion said, already moving. Then he paused, looking back at me. “Come with me?”

“To a potential fight?”

“You just spent two hours showing me you understand rogues better than any of us. Your knowledge could save lives.”

My wolf pushed forward, eager to help protect the pack that had sheltered us. “Okay.”

The surprise and pleasure on his face made my stomach flutter.

The situation at the border was tense but not violent—yet. Three rogues stood at the tree line, close enough to be a threat but not technically crossing into our territory. They looked haggard, desperate.

“Stay back,” Orion murmured, but I was already studying them.

“They’re not ferals,” I said quietly. “Look at their eyes—still cognizant. They’re running from something.”

Orion assessed them again, then stepped forward. “You’re at the border of Mountain Ridge Pack. State your business.”

The largest, a scarred brown wolf, shifted to human form. “Please. We mean no harm. We’re seeking passage through your territory. There’s a group of ferals hunting us.”

“How many?” Orion asked.

“Seven, maybe eight.”

I moved closer to Orion, my instincts screaming. “It’s a trap.”

The words had barely left my mouth when the attack came. Not from the three in front of us, but from behind. Eight feral wolves burst from the undergrowth, eyes red with madness, foam dripping from their jaws.

“Protect the border!” Orion commanded his warriors, then shifted mid-leap, intercepting a feral heading straight for me.

I shifted too, my wolf eager for the fight after weeks of peace. We moved together, Orion and I, like we’d been fighting side by side for years. When a feral got past his guard, I was there. When two cornered me, he appeared like an avenging shadow.

The three rogues we’d been talking to joined the fight, proving my instinct right—they weren’t enemies, just desperate wolves caught in a bad situation.

The battle was brutal but brief. Feral wolves fought without strategy, all rage and no thought. Within minutes, the threat was neutralized.

I stood panting over the body of a feral I’d taken down, adrenaline still coursing through me. Orion approached slowly, still in wolf form, and did something unexpected—he gently nuzzled my neck, a gesture of pride and affection that made my wolf purr.

When we shifted back, accepting clothes from the warriors, Orion addressed the three rogues. “You fought with honor. You’re welcome to rest in our territory for the night.”

“Alpha,” one of his warriors protested. “They’re rogues—”

“Who helped defend our border,” Orion said firmly. “We don’t turn away wolves in need.”

As we walked back to the pack house, Orion’s hand found mine. “You were incredible. You saved Marcus’s life when you spotted that feral flanking him.”

“We make a good team,” I admitted quietly.

He squeezed my hand. “Yes, we do.”

That night, I didn’t retreat to my room immediately. Instead, I sat with Orion in his living room as he tended a cut on my shoulder I hadn’t noticed.

“This will scar,” he said, carefully cleaning the wound.

“Another one for the collection.”

His hands stilled. “How many scars do you have, Malia?”

“Too many to count.”

He was quiet for a moment, then pressed a gentle kiss to the bandage he’d just applied. “Each one is proof of your survival. Your strength.”

“Or my failures.”

“No.” His voice was firm. “Never that.”

When I finally went to bed, I realized something had shifted. The constant fear I’d carried was still there, but quieter. For the first time since arriving at Mountain Ridge Pack, I felt like I might actually belong.

—

Chapter 13

Malia’s POV

The nightmare was different this time.

Instead of the basement or the fighting ring, I dreamed of losing Orion. Watched him die protecting me, felt his blood on my hands, heard his last breath. I woke gasping his name, tears streaming down my face.

He was there in seconds, not waiting outside anymore but bursting through the door, eyes wild with concern.

“I’m here,” he said, gathering me into his arms before either of us could think about boundaries. “I’m right here.”

I clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady against my chest. “You died. In my dream, you died.”

“Never,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

We stayed like that until my trembling stopped. When I pulled back slightly, our faces were inches apart. His eyes dropped to my lips, and time seemed to pause.

“Malia,” he whispered, a question and a plea.

Instead of answering, I closed the distance.

The kiss was soft, tentative—a question I was finally ready to answer. His lips were warm against mine, gentle despite the power I knew he possessed. When I didn’t pull away, his hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of my tears.

I was the one who deepened the kiss, surprising us both. My wolf sang with joy as Orion made a low sound in his throat, his other arm coming around my waist to pull me closer.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“Was that okay?” he asked, looking uncertain for the first time since I’d met him.

“More than okay,” I admitted.

He smiled—that soft smile that was just for me—and pressed his forehead against mine. “You’re killing me, you know that? Every day, trying to be patient, trying not to push—”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re worth waiting for.”

“Stay,” I said impulsively. “Tonight. Just… stay.”

His eyes widened. “Malia, we don’t have to—”

“Not that. Just sleep. I don’t want to be alone.”

He kicked off his shoes and lay down beside me, careful to stay above the covers. But when I curled into his side, resting my head on his chest, he wrapped his arms around me without hesitation.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I murmured, already feeling sleep pulling me under.

For the first time in years, I slept through the night without nightmares.

—

Chapter 14

Malia’s POV

Waking up in Orion’s arms became my new favorite thing.

It had been a week since that first night he’d stayed, and now his presence in my bed felt as natural as breathing. We hadn’t progressed beyond kissing and holding each other, but even that level of intimacy was revolutionary for me.

This morning, I woke before him, taking the rare opportunity to study his face in the soft dawn light. His features were relaxed in sleep, making him look younger. My fingers traced the strong line of his jaw, and his eyes fluttered open, immediately focusing on me with such warmth it made my chest ache.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning.”

He pulled me closer, burying his face in my neck, and I shivered as his lips brushed the sensitive skin there. “You smell amazing.”

“I need a shower.”

“No, you smell like mine.” His arms tightened possessively, and my wolf purred in response.

A knock at the door broke the moment. “Alpha,” Caspian called urgently. “We have a situation.”

Orion groaned but got up, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be back.”

After he left, I lay in bed, surrounded by his scent, feeling safer than I had in years. But the feeling was fragile, like glass that could shatter at any moment.

Blaire found me an hour later, sitting by my window. “You’re glowing,” she observed with a knowing smile.

“I don’t glow.”

“You do when our Alpha stays in your room all night.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“We’re just sleeping.”

“For now.” She sat beside me, her expression growing serious. “Can I ask you something personal?”

I tensed but nodded.

“Are you afraid of the physical aspect? Of mating?”

The question hit too close to home. “I… I’ve never… by choice.”

Understanding and sympathy filled her eyes. “Oh, honey.”

“The men who bought me from my father, they never… completed the act. They found other ways to entertain themselves. But there was always the threat, the fear.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “And before that, my father made sure I knew I was worthless, that no one would ever want me except to use me.”

“Orion would never—”

“I know. Logically, I know. But my body doesn’t always listen to logic.”

Blaire took my hand. “Have you told him?”

“How do I tell my mate that the thought of completing our bond terrifies me as much as I want it?”

“Honestly. That’s how.”

That evening, I found Orion in his office, the situation from the morning apparently resolved. He looked up when I entered, immediately sensing my nervousness.

“What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.”

His face paled. “Are you leaving?”

“No! No, nothing like that.” I moved closer, taking the chair across from his desk. “It’s about us. About… physical intimacy.”

He came around the desk, kneeling in front of my chair so we were eye level. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I want to be ready. I want you. But…” I took a shaky breath. “I’ve never been with anyone willingly. The men who had me, they did everything but the actual act. They preferred to torture in other ways. But the threat was always there, and my father made sure I knew that’s all I was good for.”

Orion’s eyes flashed black, his wolf rising to the surface. “Give me names.”

“They’re dead. The fire killed most of them.”

“Good.” He took my hands, his touch gentle despite the rage I could feel radiating from him. “Malia, listen to me. You are not worthless. You are not just something to be used. You are my mate, my equal, my everything. And I will wait forever if that’s what you need.”

“I don’t want to wait forever. I just… need to go slow.”

“Then we go slow.” He pressed a kiss to each of my palms. “You set the pace. Always.”

—

Chapter 15

Orion’s POV

Patience had never been my strong suit, but for Malia, I’d discovered reserves I didn’t know existed.

Two weeks had passed since her confession, and we’d been taking things slowly. Kissing that left us both breathless. Touches that grew bolder but never pushed. Nights spent wrapped around each other, the mate bond humming between us, growing stronger with each passing day.

Tonight was the full moon, and the pack was celebrating with a run. Malia had agreed to join, her first official pack run as my mate.

She stood beside me at the edge of the forest, nervous energy radiating from her. The pack had gathered, waiting for their Alpha’s signal. In the moonlight, Malia looked ethereal, her blonde hair silver in the darkness.

“Ready?” I asked.

She nodded, and we shifted together. Her wolf was beautiful—silver-white with those same striking grey-blue eyes. My black wolf dwarfed hers, but she held herself with a quiet strength that made my wolf puff with pride.

We ran as a pack, but I only had eyes for her. She moved through the forest like she was born to it, graceful and sure. When we reached the clearing where the pack would rest, she surprised me by playfully nipping at my flank, then darting away.

The chase was on.

We raced through the trees, her musical wolf’s laughter echoing in my mind through our strengthening bond. When I finally caught her, we tumbled into a bed of soft moss, play-fighting like pups. The pack had continued on, giving us privacy.

She shifted first, laughing as she lay on her back in the moonlight. I shifted too, bracing myself above her, captivated by the joy on her face.

“You’re beautiful,” I said.

Her hands came up to frame my face. “So are you.”

The playfulness shifted to something deeper. She pulled me down for a kiss that was different from the others—hungrier, more demanding. Her hands explored my chest, my shoulders, and I groaned against her mouth.

“Malia,” I gasped, pulling back slightly. “We should go back to the house.”

“Why?” She nipped at my jaw, and I nearly lost all control.

“Because if we don’t, I’m going to make love to you right here in the forest, and you deserve better for your first time.”

Her eyes darkened. “Then take me home.”

We barely made it to my room before she was pulling me against her again, her hands tugging at my shirt. I caught her wrists gently.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

I lifted her, carrying her to my bed, laying her down like she was something precious. Because she was.

“If you want to stop at any point—”

She silenced me with a kiss. “I trust you.”

Those three words undid me.

I worshipped her with my hands and mouth, taking my time, watching her face for any sign of fear or discomfort. But there was only wonder, only pleasure, only trust. When she pulled me closer, whispering my name like a prayer, I knew we were both lost.

—

Chapter 16

Malia’s POV

I woke to sunlight streaming across Orion’s bed—our bed now—and the delicious ache that reminded me of everything that had happened last night. Three times.

Orion’s arm was wrapped around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, and I could feel his smile against my shoulder.

“Good morning, mate,” he murmured, voice rough.

The word sent a thrill through me. We were fully bonded now, the connection between us permanent and unbreakable. I could feel his emotions like my own—contentment, satisfaction, and a deep, overwhelming love that made my eyes water.

“Morning.”

He pressed kisses along my shoulder, up my neck, making me shiver. “How do you feel?”

“Perfect,” I said honestly. “Free.”

He turned me to face him, his expression serious. “You know what this means, right? You’re officially the Luna of Mountain Ridge Pack now.”

The title that had once terrified me now felt right. “I know.”

“The pack will expect—”

“Orion.” I pressed my fingers to his lips. “I know what I signed up for. I’m ready.”

He studied my face, then smiled—bright and genuine. “I love you.”

The words I’d never expected to hear, let alone believe, wrapped around my heart. “I love you too.”

We stayed in bed for another hour, relearning each other’s bodies in the daylight, slower and sweeter than the desperate passion of the night before. When we finally emerged, the pack’s knowing looks and smiles didn’t embarrass me like I’d expected. Instead, I felt proud.

That afternoon, I stood beside Orion as he officially presented me as Luna to the pack. The ceremony was simple but meaningful, and when the pack howled their acceptance, my wolf howled with them.

Veronica was notably absent, having left the territory after our confrontation at the bonfire. I didn’t miss her.

“Luna,” Caspian said with a grin, bowing dramatically. “Welcome to the family.”

Blaire hugged me tight. “I’m so happy for you both.”

As the celebration continued around us, Orion pulled me aside, leading me to the lake that had become our special place.

“I have something for you,” he said, pulling out a small box.

Inside was a simple silver ring with a moonstone center. “It was my mother’s. The Luna ring, passed down through generations. If you don’t like it—”

I silenced him with a kiss. “It’s perfect.”

He slipped it onto my finger, and it fit perfectly, like it was meant to be there.

“My father wants to meet you,” he said carefully. “The former Alpha. He and my mother live in the elder’s compound now.”

The thought of meeting parents—having in-laws—was foreign but not unwelcome. “When?”

“Whenever you’re ready. No pressure.”

I looked at this man who’d shown me patience, love, and safety. Who’d helped me heal while never pushing for more than I could give. Who’d made me believe I was worthy of love.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “I’d like to meet them tomorrow.”

His smile was radiant. “They’ll love you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you. And because you’re extraordinary.”

As we sat by the lake, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and gold, I realized my life had become something I’d never dared dream of. I had a mate who cherished me, a pack that accepted me, and a future that wasn’t defined by my past.

The scared, broken girl who’d escaped that burning forest two years ago would never have believed this was possible. But maybe that’s what healing looked like—not forgetting the pain, but building something beautiful in spite of it.

Chapter 17

Malia’s POV

Meeting Orion’s parents should have terrified me. Instead, I found myself embraced—literally—by a woman who smelled like cinnamon and sunshine.

“Finally!” Luna Celeste exclaimed, pulling back to study my face with warm brown eyes that matched her son’s. “We’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Former Alpha Marcus was more reserved but equally welcoming, his handshake firm but gentle. “Welcome to the family, Malia.”

Their home in the elder’s compound was cozy, filled with photographs documenting Orion’s childhood. I found myself transfixed by a picture of him at maybe seven years old, grinning toothlessly at the camera.

“He was a handful,” Celeste said, handing me tea. “Always getting into trouble, always pushing boundaries.”

“Some things never change,” Marcus added dryly, making Orion groan.

“Can we not do the embarrassing stories already?”

“Oh, but that’s a parent’s privilege,” Celeste winked at me. “Did he tell you about the time he got stuck in wolf form for three days because he was too stubborn to admit he needed help?”

“Mother…”

I laughed, genuinely delighted by these glimpses into Orion’s past. “Please, tell me everything.”

For hours, they shared stories—not just embarrassing ones, but tales of Orion’s compassion, his dedication to the pack, his determination to be a good Alpha. They asked me questions too, but never prying ones, never about my past. They seemed to understand that some stories weren’t ready to be told.

“You’re good for him,” Marcus said quietly while Orion helped his mother in the kitchen. “I haven’t seen him this happy… ever.”

“He’s good for me too.”

Marcus studied me with knowing eyes. “You’ve been through hell.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yes.”

“But you survived. And now you’re here, making my son complete.” He placed a paternal hand on my shoulder. “That makes you family. And this family protects its own.”

The words triggered something unexpected—tears. Not from sadness, but from the overwhelming realization that I had a family now. Real family, not by blood but by choice.

Orion was at my side instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I managed through the tears. “Everything’s right. That’s why I’m crying.”

Celeste handed me tissues with a gentle smile. “Happy tears are always welcome here.”

As we walked back to the pack house that evening, Orion kept glancing at me.

“What?” I finally asked.

“You’re different. More… settled.”

He was right. Something had shifted during that visit. The last walls around my heart had crumbled, replaced by something stronger—belonging.

“Your parents are wonderful.”

“They loved you. I knew they would.” He pulled me closer. “My mother already asked when we’re giving her grandchildren.”

I tensed slightly, and he immediately backtracked. “No pressure. We have time.”

“I want them,” I said quietly, surprising myself. “Someday. When I’m ready.”

He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. “Really?”

“The thought of creating life instead of taking it… of having something pure and innocent that’s part of both of us…” I touched his face. “Yes. Someday.”

The kiss he gave me was different—deeper, full of promise and future dreams.

That night, as we made love slowly and tenderly, I felt the mate bond pulse with new strength. Through it, I could feel not just Orion’s love, but the pack’s acceptance radiating through their Alpha connection. I was truly their Luna now, not just in title but in truth.

—

Chapter 18

Orion’s POV

Three months into our mating, Malia had transformed from the scared, defensive wolf I’d first met into a formidable Luna.

She stood in the training ring now, teaching self-defense to the younger she-wolves. Her movements were precise, deadly, born from survival rather than formal training. The girls watched her with awe.

“Never assume your attacker will fight fair,” she was saying. “In the real world, there are no rules. Your only goal is to survive.”

She demonstrated a move that would cripple an attacker twice her size, and I winced. My mate fought dirty, and I loved her for it.

“Enjoying the show?” Caspian asked, joining me at the fence.

“Always.”

“She’s been good for the pack. Especially the ones who’ve experienced trauma.”

He was right. Malia had started a support group for pack members who’d survived abuse. She never shared her own story in detail, but her understanding and empathy helped others heal.

“The rogues are getting worse,” Caspian said, shifting to business. “Three more attacks this week.”

“Same pattern?”

“No, that’s what’s strange. These are coordinated, planned. Someone’s organizing them.”

My wolf stirred uneasily. Rogue wolves didn’t typically work together unless…

“You think they have a leader.”

“I think we need to be prepared for anything.”

Malia approached us, having dismissed her class. She’d heard the conversation—enhanced Luna hearing was one of the perks of our complete bond.

“Let me help with the rogue situation,” she said. “I can—”

“No.” The word came out harsher than intended. “I won’t risk you.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m not some delicate flower, Orion. I survived two years alone, fighting rogues and worse.”

“That was before. Now you’re—”

“Your mate? Your Luna? Those titles don’t make me weak.”

Caspian wisely excused himself as Malia and I stared each other down.

“I can’t lose you,” I said finally.

Her expression softened. “You won’t. But you can’t protect me from everything. And the pack needs both of us strong.”

She was right, of course. “Fine. But we do this together.”

“Together,” she agreed.

That night, as we pored over maps and patrol reports, Malia suddenly went rigid.

“What is it?”

“This pattern… I’ve seen it before.” Her finger traced the attack locations. “They’re not random. They’re herding us, pushing our patrols to specific positions.”

“For what purpose?”

She looked up, fear in her eyes. “To leave other areas undefended. Orion, I think they’re planning something big.”

Before I could respond, an alarm howled through the night—the emergency signal from the eastern border.

We shifted and ran, the pack warriors falling in behind us. What we found made my blood freeze.

Twenty rogues stood at our border, but these weren’t ferals. They were organized, disciplined. And at their head…

“No,” Malia whispered through our bond. “It can’t be.”

The leader stepped forward, and even in the darkness, I could see Malia trembling.

“Hello, daughter,” Alpha Pierce said with a cruel smile. “Time to come home.”

—

Chapter 19

Malia’s POV

My father looked exactly the same—grey eyes cold as winter, dark hair now streaked with silver, that cruel twist to his mouth that haunted my nightmares. But it was the calculation in his expression that terrified me most. He’d found me for a reason.

“You’re not welcome here, Pierce,” Orion growled, stepping protectively in front of me.

“I’m not here for your welcome, pup. I’m here for what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours,” I managed, my voice stronger than I felt. “I never was.”

Pierce laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. “You cost me a fortune when you ran. Do you know what those men did when they found their prize fighter gone? They demanded compensation. Compensation I couldn’t pay.”

“So you lost your pack,” Orion said, understanding dawning. “You’re the one organizing the rogues.”

“Temporarily displaced,” Pierce corrected. “But with my daughter back, I can rebuild. She’s quite valuable, you see. The only white wolf born in generations.”

White wolf. The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

I felt Orion’s shock through our bond. White wolves were beyond rare—they were myths. Born once every few centuries, supposedly blessed by the Moon Goddess herself with enhanced strength, speed, and healing. They were also hunted, captured, used for their power.

“That’s why,” I whispered, pieces falling into place. “Why you hated me but wouldn’t kill me. Why those men wanted me specifically for fighting. I was a commodity.”

“Smart girl. Though not smart enough to hide properly.” Pierce’s eyes gleamed. “Imagine my surprise when I heard rumors of a white wolf in Mountain Ridge Pack. My daughter, playing Luna.”

“She IS Luna,” Orion snarled. “My mate, my equal. And you’ll leave now, or I’ll tear you apart.”

“Will you? With all these witnesses?” Pierce gestured to his rogues. “Attack an Alpha seeking his runaway daughter? That would violate pack law. The Council would have your head.”

He was right. Pack law was ancient, absolute. A father had rights to his unmated daughter.

“But I’m mated,” I said.

“Are you? Properly? With witnesses and ceremony?” Pierce’s smile widened at my silence. “A private claiming doesn’t count for pack law, daughter. You know this.”

My heart sank. We’d bonded, yes, but without the formal ceremony that other packs would recognize. We’d planned to do it eventually, but…

“One week,” Pierce said. “You have one week to return to me voluntarily, or I’ll petition the Council. They’ll force you back, and Mountain Ridge will be sanctioned for harboring a runaway.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Orion promised.

“Try it. I have forty more rogues waiting nearby. Even the great Mountain Ridge Pack can’t fight that many without casualties. How many of your pack will die for one damaged wolf?”

He turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and daughter? That pretty mark on your neck won’t save you. There are ways to break a mate bond. Painful ways, but effective.”

They melted back into the forest, leaving us standing in horrible silence.

“Pack meeting,” Orion commanded. “Now.”

Within an hour, the entire pack had gathered. Orion explained the situation with brutal honesty, and I waited for them to turn on me. A white wolf brought nothing but trouble. They’d be better off letting Pierce take me.

“So we fight,” Caspian said simply.

“You could die,” I protested. “All of you could die for me.”

“You’re our Luna,” an elder said firmly. “We protect our own.”

“But I’m—”

“Family,” Blaire interrupted. “You’re family.”

One by one, every pack member voiced their support. They would fight for me. Die for me if necessary.

“There’s another way,” Orion’s mother said suddenly. “The Lunar Ceremony.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “If you complete the formal mating ceremony before the week ends, with allied packs as witnesses, Pierce’s claim would be void.”

“We’ll need at least three allied Alphas to witness,” Orion said. “Can we get them here in time?”

“Already sending the calls,” Caspian confirmed.

“This won’t stop him,” I said quietly. “My father doesn’t give up. Even if the ceremony protects me legally, he’ll keep coming.”

“Then we’ll be ready,” Orion said firmly. He pulled me against him, and I felt the pack’s determination through our bonds.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t facing my father alone.

—

Chapter 20

Malia’s POV

The Lunar Ceremony took place three days later, under the full moon with five allied Alphas as witnesses.

I stood in a white dress that Celeste had worn for her own ceremony, my hand in Orion’s as we spoke the ancient vows. The pack surrounded us in a circle, their presence a wall of protection and love.

“I take you as my mate,” Orion said, his voice carrying across the clearing. “In strength and weakness, in joy and sorrow, in peace and war. Your enemies are my enemies. Your pain is my pain. Your life is my life.”

“I take you as my mate,” I repeated, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “In strength and weakness, in joy and sorrow, in peace and war. Your enemies are my enemies. Your pain is my pain. Your life is my life.”

The allied Alphas stepped forward one by one, acknowledging our bond, making it official in the eyes of pack law.

“Let any who would challenge this union speak now,” the eldest Alpha intoned.

“I challenge!”

Pierce emerged from the shadows, exactly as we’d expected. But this time, we were ready.

“On what grounds?” the elder Alpha asked formally.

“She’s a white wolf, hidden from the Council. That’s a crime punishable by—”

“By nothing,” I interrupted, stepping forward. “Because I’m not a white wolf.”

Pierce laughed. “Denying your nature won’t—”

I shifted.

My wolf stood proud in the moonlight—silver-white, yes, but not pure white. Dark markings traced my legs and face, subtle but unmistakable.

“A silver wolf,” the elder Alpha said with interest. “Rare, but not legendary. Not requiring Council notification.”

“That’s impossible,” Pierce snarled. “I saw her wolf when she was young. Pure white!”

“Wolves change,” Orion said calmly. “Especially after trauma. The markings developed during her captivity. Probably a survival mechanism.”

It was true. The first time I’d shifted after escaping the fire, I’d noticed the dark markings. My wolf had adapted, camouflaged the very thing that made me valuable.

“You can examine her yourself,” I offered the elder Alpha, who did so with clinical efficiency.

“Silver wolf confirmed,” he announced. “The challenge is invalid.”

Pierce’s face contorted with rage. “You think you’ve won? You think this is over?”

“Yes,” I said simply. “Because if you come near my pack again, I’ll kill you.”

“You? You couldn’t even—”

I moved faster than thought, pinning him to the ground with my teeth at his throat. The rogues he’d brought tensed, but the allied Alphas and our pack surrounded them.

“I’m not the scared little girl you tortured,” I growled through the mind link all wolves shared. “I survived you. I survived the fighting rings. I survived on my own. And now I have a pack, a mate, a family who would die for me. What do you have? Rogues who follow you from fear?”

I bit down just enough to draw blood. “Leave. Now. Don’t come back.”

I released him, and he scrambled away, humiliation and fury warring on his face. His rogues followed, their loyalty already wavering.

“This isn’t over,” he snarled.

“Yes, it is,” Orion said, pulling me against him. “She’s made her choice. And if you return, you won’t leave alive.”

Pierce fled into the night with his rogues, and I knew with bone-deep certainty that I’d never see him again. Bullies were cowards at heart, and I’d finally stood up to mine.

The allied Alphas departed after the ceremony concluded, each offering their support if needed. Our pack celebrated through the night, but Orion and I slipped away to our lake.

“How do you feel?” he asked, holding me close.

“Free,” I said, and meant it completely. “For the first time in my life, truly free.”

“No more running?”

“No more running.”

We sat in comfortable silence, watching the moon’s reflection ripple on the water.

“What now?” I asked.

“Now we live,” he said simply. “We lead our pack, we heal, we build our future. Together.”

“I love you,” I said, the words still feeling like a miracle.

“And I love you. Always.”

—

Epilogue – Two Years Later

Malia’s POV

“Luna! Luna! Look what I can do!”

I watched with a smile as little Marcus—named for his grandfather—shifted into his wolf pup form at only three years old. His sister Elena, barely walking, clapped her chubby hands in delight.

“Very good,” I praised, scooping him up as he shifted back. “But what did we say about shifting without clothes nearby?”

“Oops.”

Orion appeared with a blanket, wrapping our son up with practiced ease. “Causing trouble already?”

“He gets it from you,” I said, passing him to his father.

“Excuse me? Who taught him to pick locks last week?”

“That’s a survival skill.”

Our banter was interrupted by Caspian approaching with his own pup—a daughter just a few months older than Elena.

“The support group meeting is ready,” he informed me. “Record turnout.”

The support group had grown from a handful of survivors to a network spanning multiple packs. We’d helped dozens of wolves escape abusive situations, offering them sanctuary and healing.

“I’ll be right there.”

I kissed my children, then my mate, before heading to the meeting. As I walked through our territory, pack members greeted me warmly. The scared, broken girl who’d arrived here four years ago was gone, replaced by a Luna who’d found her strength.

The meeting was powerful, as always. Wolves sharing their stories, supporting each other, healing together. As I listened to a young she-wolf talk about escaping her own nightmare, I thought about how far we’d all come.

After the meeting, I found Orion at our lake with the pups. Marcus was trying to catch fish while Elena napped against her father’s chest.

“How was it?” Orion asked.

“Good. Healing happens easier when you’re not alone.”

He pulled me down beside him, careful not to wake Elena. “You’ve built something amazing.”

“We built it. Together.”

Marcus ran over, soaking wet and grinning. “Mama, when will you tell us the story again?”

“Which story?”

“About the girl who was lost and the wolf who found her!”

I smiled, pulling him into my lap despite his wet clothes. “Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought she was broken…”

As I told the sanitized version of our story, I marveled at how much had changed. The nightmares still came sometimes, but less frequently. The scars remained but no longer defined me. And the family I’d thought I’d never have surrounded me with love.

Pierce had been found dead a year ago, killed by his own rogues when his cruelty became too much. I’d felt nothing at the news—he’d been dead to me long before his actual death.

“And they lived happily ever after?” Marcus asked hopefully.

“They lived,” I corrected gently. “With all the mess and beauty that comes with living. But yes, they were happy.”

“Good,” he said firmly, then scampered off to play again.

Orion kissed my temple. “No regrets?”

I looked at my mate, my pups, my pack territory stretching into the distance. I thought of the girl I’d been—chained, broken, certain she’d never be anything but unwanted.

“None,” I said firmly. “This is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

As the sun set over the mountains, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and purples, I knew it was true. Every scar, every nightmare, every moment of pain had led me here—to this pack, this mate, this family.

I was no longer unwanted. I was loved, cherished, needed.

I was home.

THE END