The fortress had grown quieter, but the silence was no comfort. It pressed on the walls like a storm biding its time, heavy with the weight of things unspoken. Even the wind that wound through the high banners carried unease, a restless hush that whispered of blood and choices that could not be undone.

Aria felt it most when she walked the inner halls. Servants bowed their heads when she passed, but their eyes strayed to her stomach when they thought she wasn’t looking. Soldiers who had once saluted her openly now shifted uneasily, as though her very presence added weight to their armor. The whispers that had begun in corners and kitchens no longer lingered in secret. They bled through the air like smoke from a smoldering fire, impossible to ignore.

She had tried to shut it out, to walk with her head high, but there was no denying the truth: her very existence here was dividing the pack.

Rowan’s voice was grim when he finally named the threat that gave shape to their fears. “The relic is called the Moonfang,” he said, spreading a weathered scroll across the council table. The parchment smelled of old ash, and the ink glistened dark under torchlight. A crude sketch sprawled across the page—a blade jagged and cruel, forged in silver and bone. “Forged to sever bonds blessed by the goddess herself. If Selene holds it, she can tear your bond apart… and claim both you and the child.”

The words struck like a hammer. For a moment no one spoke, the chamber holding its breath. Then the murmurs began, hushed at first, swelling like an oncoming tide.

Malric spat a curse and slammed his hand on the table hard enough to rattle goblets. “This is folly. We cannot hold her here while Selene sharpens a weapon aimed at our throats.” His eyes flicked to Aria, sharp and cold as a blade. “The girl must be cast out before she dooms us all.”

The torches sputtered, their light stuttering against the walls. Kaelen’s jaw tightened, his golden eyes flashing. His voice, when it came, carried the edge of command. “She stays.”

Silence fell. Then came the whispers, low and insidious. Doubt threaded through the council like a disease, passing from man to man with sidelong looks. Even those who had once sworn to die at Kaelen’s side exchanged uneasy glances now. He could silence Malric with his authority, but not the fear spreading like rot through their ranks.

Aria’s stomach twisted. She had thought herself hardened to gossip, but here, before Kaelen’s own council, their distrust branded her more deeply than any passing whisper.

When the chamber emptied at last, Kaelen remained, his hand braced against the stone table as though he needed it to keep upright. His shoulders sagged with the weight of a man who knew his command was cracking, his allies slipping one by one.

Aria lingered near the door, torn between leaving him to his silence or stepping closer. Something in her rebelled at the thought of walking away.

He looked up, his voice roughened by exhaustion. “Do you hear it, Aria? They’d turn on me in a heartbeat. Not because of war, not because of Selene—but because of you.”

His words cut sharper than intended. She flinched, but something within her hardened. “No. Because of fear. Don’t put their weakness on me.”

Kaelen pushed away from the table and began to pace, his movements sharp, restless, like a caged wolf searching for a way out. “You risked everything at the gate. You unleashed power you don’t even understand. If you had fallen—”

“I fought because your men were dying,” she snapped, her temper breaking loose. “You think I should sit in a tower, hidden away, while others bleed in my name? That’s what my father demanded of me. You’d do the same?”

His stride halted, the air between them crackling with tension. For a long heartbeat, silence stretched sharp as ice. Then his voice dropped, low and raw, every word torn from his chest. “I would chain you to this fortress if it meant protecting our child.”

Her breath caught. She met his gaze and saw it at last—not just the Alpha’s command, not just his fury. Terror lived in his eyes, buried deep but undeniable. Kaelen Vale, feared Alpha, was afraid. Not of war, not of Selene. Afraid of losing her.

Her pulse thundered, anger rising only to tangle with something hotter, sharper. “You speak of chains as though they’re love. But all I hear is control.”

They stood inches apart now, the bond humming between them like fire licking dry wood. Her hand rose of its own accord, brushing her stomach. His eyes followed the movement, darkening, and the air thickened with the pull neither of them could resist.

The argument bled into silence heavy with want. His breath fanned her cheek. Her lips parted. The bond surged like a tide, dragging her closer before her mind could stop it. His hand lifted, trembling, hovering near her face as though the barest touch would destroy him.

For one searing instant, she thought he would close the distance—that he would surrender and let the bond break them both open. But Kaelen sucked in a ragged breath and tore himself back. He turned away, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched, shoulders rigid with restraint.

“I can’t,” he ground out, his voice a rough whisper. “Not when every step draws us closer to the edge.”

The rejection scorched her worse than any council’s scorn. Aria swallowed hard, forcing steel into her spine though her throat ached. “Then maybe it isn’t me you’re protecting. Maybe it’s yourself.”

Her words hung between them like a wound. She left him with the echo of her footsteps, each one heavier than the last, the bond still tugging at her even as she forced herself away.

---

That night, Rowan tossed restlessly, his sleep plagued by visions that clawed at his mind. Shadows bled across the moon in his dreams, swallowing it whole until the sky cracked open and blood spilled through the fractures. Wolves howled with broken throats, their bodies collapsing in heaps of ash. And in the center of it all, gleaming with unholy light, was a blade of bone and silver—the Moonfang, glowing like a star fallen to earth.

He woke with a gasp, sweat dampening his brow, his chest heaving as if he had run for miles. The chamber was too quiet, the silence unnatural. Even the ward-stones beyond the fortress walls hummed faintly, as though disturbed by unseen hands.

Rowan pushed upright, heart pounding. Something was wrong. Something was missing.

Aria.

He stumbled into the corridor, his feet carrying him before thought could form. Her chamber door stood closed, but the dread in his gut told him what he would find before his hand touched the latch. He shoved it open.

The room yawned hollow and silent. Her bed lay untouched, the fire had burned to ash. The window hung ajar, cold night air seeping in like a thief.

On the floor, faint but certain, were footprints pressed into the dust. Bare feet. Her feet. The trail led straight toward the ward-stones.

“Gods, no…” Rowan whispered, the words trembling out of him.

He ran, his voice tearing through the halls as he shouted for Kaelen. The fortress jolted awake in a storm of noise and movement, guards roused, torches flaring.

But Rowan knew already.

Aria was gone.