Dante's POV
I can't feel her anymore.
For hours after the canyon attack, the bond pulsed with Elara's exhaustion and pain. I felt every ache in her body, every moment of fear as she fought for her life. Then suddenly—nothing. Just empty, terrifying silence where her presence used to be.
Either she's learned to block me out completely, or she's dead.
My heart clenches violently at the second possibility. No—if she were dead, I'd be dead too. The curse binds us that completely, that absolutely. Her death would drag me into darkness within seconds.
But the silence is almost worse than the pain. At least when I felt her suffering, I knew she was alive.
"Alpha King." Lord Marcus enters my chamber without bothering to knock, his expression carefully neutral in that way that always sets my teeth on edge. "The scouts have returned with news. The Northern King has crossed into our territory. He's traveling with a woman matching Elara Moonwyn's description."
Rage explodes through me so hot and sudden I barely stay in control. My wolf surges forward, demanding blood. "Kieran Nightshade has her?"
"It appears so, my king." Marcus's eyes gleam with something I'm too angry to properly identify. Satisfaction, maybe. Or anticipation. "Should we prepare the army for war? The Northern Packs have never bowed to your authority. This could be seen as an act of aggression—stealing the Alpha King's mate right from under his nose."
"No war." The words taste like poison on my tongue. "Not yet. But send word to every pack between here and the Northern border. I want eyes on them at all times. I want to know everywhere they stop, everyone they speak to, every word they exchange."
Marcus bows low and leaves. The moment the door closes behind him, I slam my fist into the stone wall hard enough to crack it. Blood drips from my knuckles, but I barely feel the pain. It's nothing compared to the agony of knowing she's with him.
The Northern King. Of course Kieran would find her first. His bloodline carries ancient shaman magic—he probably felt her awakening the exact moment it happened, felt that cosmic shift ripple across the territories, and came running like a dog eager to serve its master.
And Elara went with him willingly.
That knowledge burns worse than any cosmic curse, worse than my heart stopping, worse than the visions of my own destruction. She chose him. Chose a complete stranger over me.
Through the bond—still there despite the frightening silence—I feel a flicker of something. Not Elara's current emotions. But the echo of what I saw in her mind during that terrifying moment when our powers connected in the canyon, when cosmic fire and alpha strength merged and our deepest memories bled together.
She saw my memories. Saw the absolute truth about why I rejected her—the fear, the pressure, the lies I'd been fed about her family for years.
Does she understand now? Does she know I didn't want to destroy us? That every fiber of my being was screaming to stop, to keep her, to accept the bond the universe gave us?
Or does knowing I was a coward just make her hate me more?
A sharp knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts. "Enter."
The Moon Priestess steps inside, her ancient face creased with deep worry lines. She looks older than I've ever seen her, and that terrifies me more than I want to admit.
"We need to talk about Seraphina," she says without preamble.
My blood turns to ice in my veins. "What about her?"
"She's not who she claims to be." The priestess's voice drops to barely a whisper, and she glances at the door like she's afraid someone might be listening. "I've been researching in the old archives since she returned from the dead. Alpha King, the real Seraphina Ashwood died three years ago exactly as we all witnessed. Her body was burned. Her ashes scattered. This woman wearing her face—whoever or whatever she truly is—is an imposter."
The room spins around me. "What are you saying?"
"Dark magic. Body theft. Soul manipulation. Ancient arts that were supposed to be lost." She grips her staff so tightly her knuckles turn white. "Someone incredibly powerful stole Seraphina's identity after her death and has been hiding in the shadows, planning, waiting. And now she's finally made her move."
"Why? What does she want?"
"The same thing everyone wants when they turn to forbidden magic." The priestess looks at me with something close to pity. "Ultimate power. Control. And the fastest way to achieve that is to kill the Starborn before she reaches her full potential and becomes unstoppable."
Horror washes over me in waves. "She'll go after Elara again."
"Yes. And next time, she won't make the mistake of underestimating her. She'll come prepared. She'll come with everything she has." The priestess moves toward the door, then pauses. "You need to protect your mate, Alpha King. Before you lose her forever—and doom us all in the process."
"She's not my mate anymore. I rejected—"
"The bond transformed. It didn't break." Her voice is sharp as a blade, cutting through my denial. "Deep down in your soul, you know this. Your wolf knows this. And until one of you dies, she'll always be your mate. Whether either of you wants it or not."
She leaves me alone with that terrible, inescapable truth.
I walk to the window and stare north, toward the distant territories where Elara travels with another Alpha. An Alpha who saw her worth immediately. Who knelt before her with respect instead of destroying her with cruelty.
"I'm coming for you," I whisper to the wind, knowing she can't hear me. "Not to cage you. Not to use your power for myself. But to keep you alive. Even if you hate me forever for it."
Because whatever Seraphina—or whoever she really is—is planning, I won't let her succeed.
Elara might never forgive me. Might never look at me with anything but contempt and justified rage.
But I'll be damned to the darkest hell if I let her die.
Elara's POV
"We're almost to the Northern border," Kieran says gently, helping me down from a moss-covered fallen log. His hand is steady and warm. "Another day's travel and we'll be safe behind my pack's protection wards. Nothing will touch you there."
I nod, trying desperately to ignore the bone-deep exhaustion weighing down my limbs. The fight in the canyon drained me more than I want to admit, even to myself. My power feels dimmer now, flickering instead of blazing, like a candle burning dangerously low on its wick.
"You need rest," Kieran says, his golden eyes filled with concern. "Real rest, Elara. You've been awake and running for nearly forty-eight hours straight."
"I can't rest. Not while Seraphina is still out there somewhere, planning her next attack." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the mild weather. "She'll come again. And she'll be stronger, more prepared this time."
"Let her come." Kieran's voice turns fierce, protective. "She won't touch you in the North. My pack, my territory, my protection. I swear it on my life and honor."
His fierce protection should comfort me. It does comfort me, actually. But something nags at the edge of my consciousness, something important I saw buried deep in Dante's memories during that moment when our minds connected.
Lord Marcus whispering poison in Dante's ear. Planting lies about my family year after year. Turning a grieving boy into a suspicious, prejudiced king.
What if Marcus is working with Seraphina? What if this conspiracy goes far deeper than a simple revenge plot?
Before I can voice my growing suspicions, Kieran stops dead in his tracks. His entire body goes rigid, his wolf rising instantly to the surface. His eyes flash golden.
"What—" I start to ask.
"We're surrounded." His voice is barely human anymore, more growl than words. "Twenty wolves, maybe more. They've been tracking us for the last mile, staying downwind so I wouldn't scent them until too late."
Terror spikes through me like ice water in my veins. More rogues? More of Seraphina's corrupted, twisted wolves?
But the wolves that step from the forest shadows aren't warped by dark magic. They're normal warriors moving in practiced formation, weapons drawn and ready. Professional soldiers, not mindless beasts.
And leading them is a man I recognize instantly from Dante's memories—Commander Drace Kellan, Captain of the Royal Guard.