The moon was high, silver and watching, as if it too disapproved of what Celyn Nightfang was about to do.

She stood at the edge of the forest, her heart pounding louder than the rustling leaves. One step. Just one step, and she'd be trespassing into Silverclaw territory, the land of her enemies. The wolves who would tear her apart on sight.

But fear had never ruled her. And tonight, neither would loyalty.

"You're insane, Celyn," murmured her best friend Elara, who stood behind her, arms crossed. "If your father finds out-"

"He won't," Celyn said, her voice low. Firm. "And if he does, I'll deal with it."

Celyn pulled up her hood, dark as midnight, and slipped into the trees.

The air changed immediately. Colder. Sharper. The kind of silence that weighed on your skin like warning. Every branch creaked like a whispered threat. Every step forward felt like threading the edge of a knife.

But she kept walking, deeper into enemy lands.

She didn't know what she was looking for. Maybe it was proof that the Silverclaws were monsters, like her father claimed. Maybe it was proof they weren't. Or maybe it was just the thrill. The rebellion. The need to do something that made her feel alive.

Then she heard a crack behind her. Not from her.

Celyn froze.

Another step. Close. Measured.

She turned sharply. "Who's there?"

Silence.

She crouched, hands flexed. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, ready to rise, to shift, to fight

And then a figure stepped out from the shadows.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked in black. Dark hair fell just above his silver eyes, and those eyes locked on her like blades sharp, assessing, furious.

"Nightfang," he said coldly.

Celyn's blood went ice.

Lucas Silverclaw.

The heir of the rival pack. The one her father called a killer. The one whispered about in campfire stories ruthless, unmerciful, and dead-eyed in battle.

Of all wolves, why him?

"Looks like the Nightfang Alpha's brat likes to play dangerous games," Lucas said, stepping closer. His voice was low, velvety, lethal.

She lifted her chin. "And the Silverclaw Alpha's pet likes to stalk little girls in the woods?"

A flicker crossed his face amusement, maybe. Surprise. Then it was gone, replaced with stone.

"You're trespassing," he said. "Do you want to die?"

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be."

Something shifted in the air.

A strange tension pulled between them electric, magnetic, foreign. It made Celyn's breath catch. She met his gaze and couldn't look away.

Her wolf... stirred.

His eyes narrowed. "Do you feel that?"

Celyn did. A pulse deep in her chest. Something primal. Ancient.

The bond.

No. No. No.

Not him.

Not the enemy.

"This is wrong," she whispered, more to herself than him.

Lucas stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. As if he wasn't sure whether to kill her or

"Go," he said, voice suddenly tight. "Before I change my mind."

"I don't take orders from you."

"Then take it as a warning."

They stood there, still. Breathing the same sharp air. Tied by something neither asked for.

Finally, she stepped back. "This never happened."

His gaze didn't waver. "It did. And it's not over."

She turned and ran.

Back through the woods. Back across the invisible line between their worlds.

But nothing felt the same.

Celyn didn't sleep that night.

Not because of fear but because of that pull. That connection. That bond. The kind she'd only heard about in stories. The kind that bound soul to soul. Heart to heart.

Mate bonds were sacred. Rare. And unbreakable.

But not supposed to happen between enemies.

Her father would kill her. Or worse kill him.

By morning, she had dark circles under her eyes and fire in her veins.

She didn't tell Elara. Didn't tell anyone. She trained harder than usual, sparring with wolves twice her size, trying to bury what had awakened in her.

It didn't work.

Because when the moon rose the next night, her feet moved before her mind did.

And again, she stood at the edge of the forest.

This time, Lucas was already waiting.

"You came back," he said. Not surprised.

"So did you."

He stepped forward. She noticed the way his jaw clenched, how his eyes lingered on hers just a moment too long.

"You're not what I expected," he said.

"And what did you expect?"

"A spoiled princess. Raised on lies and war stories."

She smirked. "And you're not what I expected either."

"And what did you expect?"

"A heartless killer."

He didn't deny it.

Instead, he said, "Then maybe we're both wrong."

For a moment, they were just two people. Not wolves. Not enemies. Not heirs.

Then a howl tore through the night long and sharp.

Celyn's stomach dropped. "Patrol."

"They're coming," Lucas said. "You need to go."

She nodded, turned then hesitated. "Why did you let me go the first time?"

Lucas didn't answer immediately. His silver eyes darkened. "Because I didn't want to kill you."

"And now?"

"I still don't."

Their eyes met.

The howl grew louder. Closer.

He stepped closer. "This is dangerous, Celyn."

"So stop me."

He didn't.

Instead, he reached out and brushed his fingers against hers.

It felt like fire. Like lightning. Like fate.

"Go," he whispered. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

She ran again but this time, it hurt.

Back in her room, she stared at the ceiling, heart pounding.

This wasn't just a bond. It was a war.

If anyone found out... blood would spill. Her blood, His, Maybe both.

But the next night, she was back.

And this time, when their hands touched he didn't pull away.

And when she leaned in neither did she.

But just before their lips met

A voice boomed through the woods. "TRAITOR!"

Silver eyes. Black cloaks. Shadows closing in.

Lucas shoved her behind him, growling. "Run!"

But it was too late.

She was surrounded.

And this time... there would be no escape.