Ezra's POV
My Lycan woke up screaming.
After 600 years of silence—600 years of existing as half a soul—my beast suddenly roared to life so violently that Marcus swerved the car.
"Your Majesty?" My second-in-command's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't answer. My Lycan was tearing at my insides, clawing to get out, howling words I hadn't heard since Mira died:
MATE. FIND HER. OURS.
"Impossible," I said through gritted teeth, forcing the beast back down. "Stop lying to me."
NOT LYING. SMELL HER. TASTE HER ON THE WIND. SHE'S HERE. SHE'S HURT. FIND HER NOW.
Marcus pulled over, alarm clear on his weathered face. "Ezra, you're glowing. Your eyes—when's the last time your Lycan pushed forward like this?"
"1425," I said flatly. "The day Mira died in my arms."
The day my fated mate's heart stopped beating and took half of mine with it. The day I became the cold, ruthless Lycan King everyone feared. The day I stopped believing the Moon Goddess cared about anything except cruel jokes.
"So why now?" Marcus asked carefully. "We're just here for treaty negotiations with Silvercrest Pack. Nothing special about this territory."
But he was wrong. Everything about this place felt wrong—and somehow right.
I rolled down the window, letting the forest air hit my face. That's when I smelled it.
Old magic. Ancient and powerful, the kind that hadn't existed in centuries. It was faint, buried under other scents, but unmistakable to someone as old as me.
And underneath that? Blood. Pain. Desperation. Grief so thick it made my chest tight.
"Something's not right here," I said quietly. "The magic... it's Eclipse magic."
Marcus's head snapped toward me. "That's impossible. The Eclipse Bloodline was wiped out 200 years ago. We made sure of it—" He stopped, realizing what he'd said.
I'd given the order myself. The Eclipse royals had grown too powerful, threatening the Lycan Kingdom's authority. So I'd sanctioned their destruction, though I'd stayed away from the actual killing. I wasn't proud of it, but I'd done what I thought necessary to protect my people.
If Eclipse magic still existed here, someone had survived. Someone had been hiding for two centuries.
"Drive," I ordered. "Faster."
HURRY. SHE'S DYING. CAN'T YOU FEEL IT?
"I don't feel anything," I snapped at my Lycan. "You're confused. Desperate. There is no mate. There will never be another mate. Mira was it for us."
WRONG. MIRA WAS FIRST MATE. THIS IS SECOND CHANCE. MOON GODDESS GIVES SECOND CHANCES TO THOSE WHO WAIT. WE WAITED. NOW SHE'S DYING AND YOU'RE WASTING TIME.
My hands clenched into fists. Second chance mates were legends. Myths. They didn't actually happen—and definitely not to someone like me who'd spent 600 years becoming a monster.
But as we approached the Silvercrest packhouse, the scents grew stronger. Blood. So much blood. And that grief—it was fresh, raw, the kind that comes from losing something precious.
We pulled up to the packhouse just as the sun set. Alpha Crest waited on the steps with his son and the pack's leadership. All smiles and false respect, the way weaker wolves always greeted me.
"Your Majesty." Crest bowed deeply. "Welcome to Silvercrest. We're honored—"
I wasn't listening. My eyes scanned the building, following the scent. The blood smell came from the servant quarters—the back section where omegas lived.
Why would omega blood make my Lycan go insane?
BECAUSE SHE'S NOT REALLY AN OMEGA, my beast growled. SHE'S HIDDEN. SPELLED. BROKEN. AND OURS.
"Shall we discuss the treaties over dinner?" Crest was saying. "My mate has prepared a feast—"
"I smell blood," I interrupted, my voice carrying Alpha command that made every wolf present stiffen. "Fresh blood. From the omega quarters."
Crest's smile tightened. "Just a clumsy servant who fell. Nothing to concern Your Majesty."
His son—Daemon, I remembered—shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away. Interesting. The future Alpha was hiding something.
"Show me," I demanded.
"Your Majesty, really, it's beneath your notice—"
My power exploded outward, dropping every wolf except Marcus to their knees. "I said show me. Now."
The walk to the omega quarters felt like walking through mud. Every step, the blood scent grew thicker. The grief intensified until it felt like drowning. And underneath it all, that Eclipse magic pulsed like a dying heartbeat.
Crest led me to a small door, barely more than a closet. He knocked. "Aria? His Majesty wants to check on you."
Silence.
He knocked again, harder. "Aria, answer me."
Still nothing.
I didn't wait for permission. I shoved the door open—and the world stopped.
A girl lay on the floor in a pool of blood that spread across the rough wooden planks. Her silver-blonde hair was matted red. Her skin was ghost-white. But it was her scent that destroyed me.
Rain and wildflowers and ancient magic and MINE MINE MINE.
My Lycan exploded forward, and I barely maintained control as I crossed the room in one stride and dropped to my knees beside her.
"She's an omega," Crest said dismissively from the doorway. "They're always having accidents. We'll clean up the mess—"
"Get. Out." My voice came out layered with my Lycan's, a sound that made windows rattle. "Everyone out. NOW."
They fled. Smart wolves.
I gathered the dying girl into my arms as gently as I could. She was so light, so broken. Her heartbeat was faint and irregular. She'd lost too much blood.
But worse—I could smell it now clearly. She'd been pregnant. And the baby was gone.
Rage like I hadn't felt in centuries consumed me. Someone had done this to her. Someone had hurt my—
No. She wasn't my mate. She couldn't be. This was just my Lycan being insane after 600 years of loneliness.
But then her eyes fluttered open. Violet eyes that shifted to gold at the edges, just like—
"Eclipse," I breathed. "You're Eclipse Bloodline."
She tried to speak but only blood came out. Her hand weakly grabbed my shirt, eyes pleading.
"Don't try to talk," I said, something fierce and protective roaring through me. "I've got you. You're safe now."
Her eyes closed again, her body going limp.
"No." I pressed my wrist to her lips, letting my ancient Lycan blood drip into her mouth. "Drink. That's an order. DRINK."
Her body instinctively obeyed, swallowing weakly. My blood would heal her—or at least keep her alive long enough to get her real help.
"Marcus!" I roared.
He appeared instantly. His eyes widened at the scene—me holding a dying omega like she was made of glass, feeding her my blood, looking more alive than I had in 600 years.
"Get the car," I ordered. "We're taking her to the Obsidian Palace."
"Your Majesty, she's not—she's just an omega from this pack—"
"She's MINE." The word came out final, absolute. "By Lycan law, I'm claiming her as my subject. Anyone who tries to stop me dies."
Marcus knew better than to argue when I used that tone. He disappeared.
Alpha Crest appeared in the doorway, face red with anger. "You can't just take—"
"I can. I am. She's mine now." I stood with her in my arms, ignoring the blood soaking my clothes. "If you have a problem with that, challenge me. I'd love an excuse to rip your throat out."
He backed away.
As I carried her to the car, her head lolled against my chest. Her heartbeat was getting stronger—my blood was working.
And in that moment, I realized something terrifying:
My Lycan wasn't confused.
This broken, dying girl was my second chance mate.
And I'd do anything—destroy anyone—to keep her alive.