Maeve’s POV

My muscles locked mid-step. The growl vibrated through the marble floor, up through my heels and into my spine. I turned toward the sound—a primal rumble that silenced every whisper in the hall.

Draven stalked through the entrance, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. His amber eyes had darkened to the color of dried blood. When I glanced back at the stranger, his face had transformed into a perfect mask—lips pressed into a neutral line, hazel eyes unblinking as they tracked Draven’s approach.

Draven’s voice cut through the hall like a blade. “You are not invited to my ceremony.” His amber eyes darkened as they fixed on the stranger’s hands still gripping my waist.

I steadied myself, pulling away from the man’s touch, but not before sending him a grateful smile. His hazel eyes held mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten inexplicably.

“Thank you for—” The words died in my throat as Draven stepped between us.

“What are you doing here, Luther?” The name fell from Draven’s lips like a curse, each syllable dripping with barely contained rage.

“Every pack in the North Central was invited, so here I am.” Luther’s voice was velvet over steel. “My brother sends his regrets.” His hazel eyes locked onto mine like a predator’s, burning through me, setting off a wildfire in my chest that threatened to consume me whole. My skin prickled with recognition—impossible, forbidden recognition. Every instinct screamed that I knew him, had always known him, though I’d spent my life caged within Silver Mist’s walls, forbidden from even glimpsing visitors.

“So you’re the lady of this ceremony.” His lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—eyes that held shadows deeper than any forest I’d ever seen. The air between us crackled with electricity. I took an unconscious step forward.

“GET. OUT. LUTH!” Draven’s roar shattered the moment, each syllable a thunderclap that made the crystal chandeliers tremble. His massive form crashed between us, radiating such murderous rage that guests nearest us shrank back. Galen and Mason materialized at his flanks, hands already curled into claws.

The air between them crackled like lightning before a storm. Elysia’s nails dug crescents into my arm as she yanked me backward, her breath coming in quick, frightened gasps against my ear.

Draven and Luther stood frozen in combat stance, muscles coiled tight as springs, teeth bared in twin snarls. The hatred radiating between them hit me in waves, scorching my skin, stealing my breath. My vision blurred with unexpected tears that burned like acid. Something primal inside me was being ripped in two directions at once, and I couldn’t understand why my heart felt like it was being clawed open.

The marble floor beneath us trembled as a voice like thunder split the air.

“ENOUGH!” The word slammed into the walls with such force that crystal glasses shattered. Three ancient figures materialized at the far end of the hall, their weathered faces carved from granite, their eyes glowing with centuries of power. One spoke with an accent thick as blood, each syllable vibrating in my bones.

The Elder Wolves.

Stories hadn’t prepared me for the raw, primeval energy that radiated from them, making even Draven flinch backward.

The room bent in reverence, bodies folding toward the Elders—all except Draven and Luther, whose locked stares crackled with ancient hatred.

“Enough of this spectacle.” The eldest’s voice cut through the tension. “The entire Council watches while you behave like untrained pups.”

Draven’s jaw tightened. “My apologies, Elder.” His words came slow, deliberate. “But the Black Pack has no place at my ceremony.”

“The Council extended the invitation,” another Elder countered, silver brows drawn together.

“To my enemies!” Draven’s fist clenched at his side.

Luther’s face transformed as his gaze found mine across the crowded hall. The hatred that had hardened his features melted away, replaced by something softer, more dangerous. A silent message passed between us—one my mind couldn’t decipher but my body understood.

“Alpha Draven—” an Elder began.

“No matter, Elder Philip.” Luther’s voice flowed smooth as honey over broken glass. “My curiosity is satisfied.” His eyes never left mine. “She exceeds every expectation.”

Before anyone could react, Luther stood before me, his fingers capturing mine. “A pleasure, Maeve,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

Draven’s growl shook the crystal overhead. Luther released my hand and vanished through the crowd. Silence descended like a shroud, broken only when Draven’s murderous glare found me, pinning me in place.

The festivities resumed with Elysia glued to my side. Council members approached for introductions that withered into awkward nods, particularly the males. Their eyes would dart nervously toward the opposite end of the hall where Draven stood sentinel, his amber gaze burning holes through anyone who lingered near me too long.

The five Elders assembled at the front, their weathered voices announcing the Luna coronation ceremony. Draven and I took our positions side by side, not touching, as the ancient ritual began. I mumbled “I do” mechanically to each question while scanning the sea of faces for my father. The empty space where he should have been gaped like an open wound. His absence shouldn’t have surprised me, yet the familiar ache bloomed in my chest anyway.

A sharp squeeze on my hand yanked me back to reality. Elysia’s wide eyes and frantically mouthing lips finally registered: “Answer the question.” The hall had fallen into uncomfortable silence. Every face—the Elders, the guests, and Draven’s thunderous expression—waited for my response.

The Elder with silver-streaked hair cleared his throat. “Luna Maeve, I shall repeat: Do you accept Alpha Draven as your mate and embrace the sacred responsibilities of Luna to the Winter Howl Pack?”

My pulse thundered in my ears. The Elder’s question hung in the air between us, heavy as a noose. I flexed my fingers at my sides, feeling the weight of every eye in the hall. One word—“no”—and these golden shackles would fall away. The Elders’ presence guaranteed my safety; even Draven couldn’t defy their ancient authority. Without my wolf, I’d walk away with nothing but freedom.

I drew a breath that tasted like possibility. Better to sever this now than endure nights of lying beside him while knowing his touch belonged elsewhere.

“I, Maeve Verrin—” The great doors crashed open against the marble walls. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

Thea Chrysler stood framed in the doorway, her crimson dress clinging to curves I’d never possess. Her golden hair cascaded past bare shoulders, catching the light from every crystal in the chandeliers.

Whispers rippled through the crowd. An older woman pressed her fingertips to her lips. A pack Beta nudged his companion, eyebrows raised. From across the room, Elysia’s face crumpled with pity.

The Elders’ ancient eyes bored into mine, waiting.

The words tore from my throat like a battle cry. “I accept.” My pulse hammered against my ribs as I stared directly at Thea, her perfect face a mask of stone. Draven’s eyes—those eyes that had promised me nothing but had somehow become everything—never left her. His betrayal sliced through me like a blade between my ribs, twisting deeper with every second he refused to look my way.

My fingernails broke skin as I clenched my fists, blood welling in crescent moons against my palms. I’d just chained myself to a man who couldn’t even pretend to want me on the day that should have been sacred. The metallic taste of fury flooded my mouth.

“Welcome, Luna Maeve of the Winter Howl Pack,” the Elders proclaimed, their ancient voices drowned by thunderous applause that felt like mockery against my burning skin.

Thea’s golden silhouette disappeared through the doors like smoke. But before she left, her eyes met mine—wide, not triumphant. Not gloating. Just… terrified. It vanished so quickly I almost doubted I saw it at all.

Seconds later, Draven followed. Not even a glance in my direction.

The humiliation scorched through me, leaving nothing but ash and rage in its wake.

Let him run to her. Let him think I’ll be his obedient Luna, waiting in an empty bed while he buries himself in her. The oath between us would become his prison, not just mine. I would make certain of it.

I slipped away from the celebration, my wedding dress whispering against marble floors as I fled down darkened corridors. The hair on my neck prickled. Someone—something—followed, their presence a cold finger tracing my spine. I whirled around, heart hammering against my ribs, fingers clutching silk so tightly the fabric threatened to tear.

“Who are you?” I demanded.