CHAPTER THREE
The Blood Oath
The ritual circle was carved deep into the heart of the Hollow—older than the pack, older than memory. Stone teeth jutted from the ground in a perfect ring, etched with symbols that glimmered faintly as dusk bled into night.
Aya stood at its center.
The air felt heavier here, saturated with ancient magic. The moon climbed slowly, deliberate, as though it were watching—waiting.
Ryan faced her across the circle, stripped of his Alpha regalia, bare-chested, his scars exposed beneath the rising moonlight. He looked different tonight. Not just a leader. Not just a wolf.
A man bound by fate.
"This is your last chance to turn back," Rowan said quietly from the edge of the circle. "Once the blood is given, there's no severing the bond without death."
Aya didn't hesitate.
"I won't run from what the Hollow chose."
Ryan's jaw tightened. His gaze never left her face. "Nor will I."
The pack gathered silently beyond the stones, a living wall of witnesses. Even Eira stood among them, her expression unreadable, eyes too sharp, too aware.
The elder stepped forward, blade glinting crimson in the moonlight.
"Blood binds truth," the elder intoned. "Blood binds power. And blood binds fate."
The blade sliced first into Ryan's palm.
He didn't flinch.
Then Aya's.
Pain flared bright and sharp—but beneath it, something else awakened. Power surged up her arm, racing through her veins like fire.
"Together," the elder commanded.
Ryan stepped forward, closing the distance between them. When their palms pressed together, blood mingled instantly, glowing faintly as the symbols carved into the stones ignited.
Aya gasped.
The bond snapped tight.
She felt everything—Ryan's strength, his fear, his devotion, his relentless need to protect. It crashed into her like a storm, raw and overwhelming. Her knees buckled, but Ryan caught her, his grip iron-strong.
"Aya," he breathed, voice breaking for the first time she'd ever heard.
She clutched his wrist, grounding herself in him. "I'm here."
The Hollow answered.
Roots burst from the ground, curling around the circle, pulsing with light. Wind screamed through the trees. Wolves dropped to their knees as the power rolled outward, pressing against every living thing.
The elder shouted over the chaos. "The bond is sealed!"
The mark on Aya's skin burned white-hot, then cooled, settling into her flesh as if it had always been there.
Ryan pulled her close, forehead resting against hers.
"You're mine," he murmured—not as a claim, but a vow. "And I am yours."
From the edge of the circle, Eira watched, nails digging into her palms.
And somewhere beyond the Hollow, something answered the surge of power with hunger.
CHAPTER FOUR
Shadows of Desire
The night refused to release them.
Aya lay awake in Ryan's quarters, moonlight slicing through the tall windows, tracing the contours of his body beside her. His presence filled the space—heat, power, and something dangerously intimate.
She could feel him now.
Not touching—but present. Always.
Ryan stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched, breath measured. The bond pulsed between them, restless, demanding.
"This is a mistake," he said quietly.
Aya turned toward him. "You don't mean that."
"I mean it terrifies me," he corrected. "You're in my head. In my blood. If something happens to you—"
She silenced him by pressing her fingers against his lips.
"Then we survive," she said softly. "Together."
The bond surged in response, desire flaring sharp and sudden. Aya gasped as heat coiled low in her body, foreign yet instinctive. She could feel his reaction too—the restraint, the tension, the wolf pacing beneath his skin.
Ryan rolled toward her in one smooth motion, bracing himself above her, careful not to touch.
"If I cross this line," he warned, voice rough, "there's no pretending this is just fate."
Aya met his gaze, heart pounding. "I don't want pretending."
That was all it took.
Ryan's control snapped.
His mouth claimed hers—deep, fierce, claiming yet reverent. The kiss burned, the bond flaring wild as if the moon itself urged them on. Aya arched into him, hands fisting in his hair, every nerve alight.
He pulled back suddenly, breath ragged. "Not like this. Not while the Hollow is bleeding."
Her brow furrowed. "Bleeding?"
Ryan's expression darkened. "I can feel it. The wards are thinning. Someone's been tampering with them."
The desire didn't fade—but it sharpened, edged with danger.
Aya sat up, the mark on her skin glowing faintly. "Then we fight."
Ryan studied her for a long moment, something shifting in his gaze—not doubt, but respect.
"You're changing faster than expected," he said.
"So are you," she replied.
A distant howl sliced through the night—wrong, distorted.
Ryan rose instantly, tension snapping back into place. "Shadow Pack."
Aya stood beside him, power stirring eagerly beneath her skin.
For the first time, she didn't feel afraid.
She felt ready.
And somewhere in the Hollow, betrayal tightened its grip.