The throne room smelled like betrayal.

Selene stood barefoot before her people, the marble beneath her stained with the remnants of what once was hers. Her ceremonial cloak-torn at the edges, spattered with blood-hung from her shoulders like a mockery. The weight of her crown was gone. Stripped. Just like the mate mark on her neck, now an angry welt, half-burned and raw.

She didn't flinch when they called her traitor.

She didn't cry when the council demanded her submission.

She only looked at him.

Lysander. Her mate. Her king. Her destroyer.

He sat on her throne, silver and shadow draped around his shoulders like it was made for him. His eyes-once soft with promises and lips pressed to her skin-were cold. Calculating. Unrecognizable.

"Step down, Selene," he said, voice devoid of regret. "You no longer speak for the Crescent Moon Pack."

Her fingers clenched. The magic in her blood howled-wild, untamed-but powerless against the bonds of the council's decree. She could tear the entire hall apart. Rip flesh from bone. But it wouldn't change the truth:

Her mate had chosen power over love.

And the pack had followed him.

"You lied," she whispered, the sound fractured, like glass cracking under pressure. "You made me believe we were equals. That I was your future."

Lysander didn't blink. "You were... until you became inconvenient."

Gasps echoed. A few wolves shifted uncomfortably, but none spoke for her. Not even her own blood. They watched, hollow-eyed, as the guards approached to escort her from the court she once ruled.

She was no longer their princess.

No longer the blessed heir.

No longer his mate.

As they reached for her, Selene lifted her chin. Pride wouldn't save her, but it was all she had left.

"I was never yours to ruin," she hissed, low and dangerous. "You may have taken my crown, Lysander. But one day, I'll take your soul."

And with that, she turned her back on the court-and walked straight into exile.

The forest was cruel in the way only freedom could be. Sharp wind. Harsher silence. Her body trembled from exhaustion, but she didn't stop. Couldn't. Wolves who were exiled didn't get second chances. They became ghosts. Stories. Warnings whispered to children.

The moon watched her fall to her knees on the forest floor, breath ragged, her wolf howling deep inside her. It wasn't just heartbreak-it was obliteration.

But the ground didn't open. The skies didn't end.

She was still breathing.

And somewhere in the distance, a presence stirred. Something ancient. Strong. Male.

Watching.

-------------

The forest had turned cruel.

Branches clawed at her skin. Her wolf whimpered, tired. Selene had run for days-bloodied, hunted by nightmares she couldn't outrun. She didn't know where she was anymore, only that the Crescent Moon borders were far behind.

That should've made her feel safe.

It didn't.

Her knees gave out on the edge of a snow-covered ridge, breath fogging in the cold. The world tilted-then darkened. She was slipping again, her body folding like paper.

And then-

Boots.

Heavy, deliberate. Crunching snow. Not rushed. Not curious. Predatory.

She blinked, the world returning in pieces-sky, frost, pain.

And him.

A tall figure stood over her, shadow and silence wrapped around him like armor. His scent hit her before the details did-pine, smoke, storm. Alpha. Stronger than anyone she'd ever met. Dangerous in a way that made her bones still.

He looked down at her with a furrowed brow and eyes like burning steel, unreadable. His presence was cold. Dominant. Icy enough to make her wolf bare its throat-yet something inside her snarled instead.

He noticed.

"You're bleeding," he said flatly.

No introduction. No warmth. Just those two words, like he couldn't decide whether to help her or leave her to rot.

"I'm fine," Selene muttered, voice hoarse, broken.

"You're not."

He crouched beside her. She flinched when his gloved hand brushed her jaw. He stilled. For a second, she thought he'd apologize. Instead, he frowned deeper and growled-low, involuntary.

His hand recoiled like he'd been burned.

His eyes locked onto her neck, the barely-healed remnants of a mate mark. Something shifted in his expression-not confusion. Not pity.

Possession.

"No," he whispered. It wasn't denial. It was disbelief. "You can't be-"

She tried to stand. Failed.

He caught her. Cursed under his breath. Then lifted her like she weighed nothing, cradled against a chest built like war.

"Let go," she snapped, squirming, humiliated.

He didn't.

"You're not dying in my territory, little wolf," he said coldly. "Whether you like it or not... you're mine now."

He didn't want a mate.

Especially not one already claimed.

Especially not broken.

But the bond didn't care what Rowan wanted.

-----------

Selene woke in heat and silk and shadows.

It wasn't the wild anymore.

Her lashes fluttered open to dim candlelight casting golden warmth across stone walls. Furs blanketed her, thick and soft, and something vaguely floral clung to the pillows beneath her head.

The scent didn't belong to her.

It was male. Dominant. And wrapped around every inch of the space like a brand.

She jolted upright-her body flaring with pain-and found her limbs trembling from exertion. Her wolf stirred, ears perked.

Not safe.

Not Crescent Moon.

But not enemy.

Her eyes scanned the room. Minimal. Clean. No unnecessary luxury, but everything expensive. Strength in simplicity. And on a chair near the hearth, dark jacket draped like an afterthought, was the scent's source.

And then-

He entered.

Tall. Imposing. Dressed in black, sleeves rolled to his elbows, arms cut with sinew and power. Rowan. He didn't announce himself. He didn't need to.

His presence filled the room before he spoke.

"You're awake," he said, voice a deep rasp. Controlled. But watching her like a predator measuring the distance to pounce.

Selene narrowed her eyes. "Where am I?"

"My home."

"You should've left me in the woods."

He stared. No smile. No flinch. Just heat in his eyes that hadn't been there before."I almost did."

Her breath caught.

Then Rowan stepped forward, and the air shifted. It crackled between them-raw, pulsing, unfamiliar. His eyes raked her face, not lewdly, but intently, like he was cataloging every scar, every shadow. Like she was a problem he couldn't solve.

She stiffened. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you shouldn't be mine," he said, voice low and brutal.

Selene blinked."Excuse me?"

"I can feel it,"he continued, jaw tight. "The pull. The bond."

"That's not possible." Her voice trembled. "I had a mate."

"I know." His eyes dropped to the mark on her neck. "I smelled him on you."

"Then you know it's a mistake."

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned away, pacing once-his movements too fluid, too dangerous. Like a wolf caged in his own skin.

"I don't make mistakes," he said finally, voice cold. "But I've never had a bond flare like this-especially not with someone already claimed."

"You're wrong," she whispered, like she could will it to be true.

"Am I?" He turned, eyes locked to hers. "Then tell me why I haven't been able to think straight since I touched you. Why I've wanted to rip the world apart for letting someone else mark what's-"

He stopped himself. Bit back the word.

But it was there.

Mine.

Selene's pulse thundered. Her wolf wasn't recoiling. It was pacing. Curious. Alert. Confused.

Rowan's breath came out in a harsh exhale. His hands flexed at his sides like he was holding back from reaching for her.

"You should rest," he said tightly. "You'll need your strength. You were weak"

She didn't trust him.

He didn't want her.

And yet... their bond screamed truths neither of them were ready to face.