The Blackthorn Pack ran like a well-oiled machine, its people moving with a seamless rhythm that spoke of years of discipline, camaraderie, and an unshakable bond. I was beginning to learn their ways—how their warriors trained, how their patrols shifted, who commanded respect and who followed without question. Every interaction, every glance, every passing conversation was a chance to gather more information.

Yet, for all my careful observation, my mind kept circling back to him.

Ronan Stormbane.

He was the force that held this pack together. A leader through and through. He moved like a predator, but not one ruled by impulse. Everything he did was calculated, his gaze always sharp, always watching.

And too often, it was watching me.

I had expected scrutiny. Expected suspicion.

What I hadn’t expected was the way my body reacted to him.

The pull between us was suffocating. It was in the way my breath caught whenever he was near. In the way his voice—deep, smooth, commanding—sent shivers down my spine. In the way his emerald eyes burned with something I didn’t want to name whenever they met mine.

It was dangerous.

It was unavoidable.

And worst of all… it was real.

But it couldn’t be.

I wasn’t here to fall for an Alpha. I was here to kill one.

"Selene."

The way he said my name sent a jolt of heat through me, even as I fought to keep my expression neutral. I turned to find Ronan standing in the doorway of the Blackthorn training hall, his presence a quiet storm.

It had been nearly a week since I had arrived in his pack, and though I had managed to earn the curiosity of some of his wolves, I was no closer to lowering his guard.

If anything, he had only become more watchful.

He jerked his chin toward the open field behind the cabins. "Come with me."

I hesitated for only a breath before nodding. "Of course."

Lorien, who had been lounging near the training grounds, smirked as I passed him. "Careful, rogue. The Alpha doesn’t usually hand out invitations."

I ignored him, falling into step beside Ronan as we walked.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Blackthorn territory. Wolves trained nearby, but as we passed, their conversations hushed.

Ronan said nothing. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to command attention.

When we reached the river at the edge of the territory, he finally spoke.

"You can fight."

It wasn’t a question.

I swallowed. "I… learned enough to defend myself."

"Enough to put Lorien on his ass," he mused.

I barely resisted a smirk. "That was luck."

He turned his head, eyes flickering with amusement. "You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who relies on luck."

I glanced away. "Why did you bring me here?"

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then—

"Because I don’t trust you."

His honesty sent a sharp pang through my chest, though I had no right to feel it. Of course he didn’t trust me. He shouldn’t.

I folded my arms. "Then why let me stay?"

His expression darkened slightly. "Because I want to know what you’re hiding."

My stomach clenched. I can’t let him see through me.

I forced a breath. "I told you the truth."

"Did you?" he murmured.

A tense silence stretched between us, the sound of the rushing river filling the space where words should have been.

Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

Too close.

Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that his scent—cedar, smoke, and something inherently him—curled around me.

My heart stuttered.

"I know lies when I hear them, Selene," he said softly. "And you… you lie too well."

I should have been afraid.

I should have stepped away.

Instead, I tilted my chin up, holding his gaze. "If you don’t trust me, why haven’t you thrown me out?"

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them.

Then, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it—

"Because I feel it, too."

I forgot how to breathe.

A beat of silence.

Then—he stepped back.

Just enough to put space between us, but not enough to ease the tension thrumming in the air.

"You’ll train with me tomorrow," he said, his voice rougher than before.

I blinked, still reeling. "Train?"

He turned, already walking away. "At dawn. Don’t be late."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me standing there, heart pounding, pulse wild, and mind screaming at me to remember who I was and why I was here.

I didn’t sleep that night.

I lay awake, staring at the wooden ceiling of my small cabin, replaying every moment of our conversation.

I feel it, too.

The words haunted me.

I had known it was possible—inevitable, even. Fate had marked us as mates, and I had spent years cursing that cruel design. But hearing it from his lips made it real in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

He felt the pull, just as I did.

But what did that mean?

Did it mean he was drawn to me despite his suspicions? That his instincts screamed for him to claim me even as his mind warned him against it?

Or did it mean that, despite everything… he wanted me to be something more than a lie?

I clenched my jaw.

It didn’t matter.

I couldn’t allow it to matter.

Ronan Stormbane was not my mate. He was not my home, not my salvation.

He was my target.

He was the reason I was here.

And no matter how my body betrayed me—no matter how much my heart wavered when he looked at me—I could not let myself forget that.

Because the moment I did…

I would lose everything.

Dawn broke across the Blackthorn Pack in streaks of gold and crimson. The air was crisp, laced with the scent of pine and morning dew.

I arrived at the training grounds before Ronan, but not before the whispers began.

"She’s training with the Alpha?"

"Why her?"

"He never does private sessions."

I ignored them, keeping my expression neutral. I wasn’t here to win the approval of his pack. I was here to survive.

Then I felt him.

Before I even turned, I knew he was there.

Ronan’s presence rolled over the field like a storm—silent, heavy, charged with something undeniable.

"You showed up," he said, his voice low.

I met his gaze. "I said I would."

A slow smirk curved his lips. "Good."

He tossed me a training sword, and I caught it without hesitation.

"Then let’s begin."

And as we circled each other in the rising dawn, weapons drawn, tension thick enough to choke, I realized something far more dangerous than the battle ahead.

I was already losing control.

Chapter Six – Under the Blood Moon

The full moon was coming.

I felt it long before the others did—before even the most seasoned warriors of the Blackthorn Pack began to grow restless. It hummed beneath my skin, an electric pulse in the very marrow of my bones, stirring something inside me I didn’t want to name.

For werewolves, the full moon was a sacred time, a night where their instincts heightened, their strength surged, and their primal nature took hold. But for me?

It was dangerous.

I wasn’t like them.

The shadows inside me reacted differently to the lunar pull. The moon didn’t strengthen me—it unraveled me. It called to the darkness inside me, peeling back the edges of my disguise, tempting me to let go, to become what I truly was.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

Not here. Not now.

I had worked too hard to secure my place in Blackthorn, too carefully woven my deception. If I lost control—if even a fraction of my true nature slipped through the cracks—they would know.

He would know.

And if Ronan Stormbane ever discovered what I truly was, he wouldn’t hesitate to rip out my throat.

The tension in the pack had been growing for days. Wolves grew restless, their tempers shorter than usual. Small scuffles broke out in the training grounds, warriors snapping at each other with barely restrained aggression.

It was instinct. The moon called to them, made them feel more—heightened everything.

And Ronan…

Ronan had been different.

He wasn’t just on edge—he was watching me.

More than usual.

His gaze lingered too long, as if searching for something just beneath the surface. Every time I moved, I felt the weight of his eyes on me, burning, questioning.

I told myself it was because he still didn’t trust me. That he was waiting for me to slip up.

But deep down, I knew better.

He felt it, too.

The pull between us. The growing tension that neither of us acknowledged.

It was subtle at first. A glance held a second too long. The way his fingers brushed against mine when he handed me a weapon during training. The way his jaw clenched when another warrior got too close to me, though he said nothing.

He was fighting it.

And so was I.

But the moon was coming.

And soon, neither of us would be able to fight it at all.

By the time the sun began to set, the camp was charged with restlessness. The younger wolves paced like caged animals, their eyes flicking toward the sky as if they could already see the moon’s glow.

I kept my distance, remaining near the edge of the pack, watching, waiting.

But Ronan?

He sought me out.

I was in the small clearing behind my cabin when I felt him approach. His presence was like a storm, dark and undeniable, his energy crackling through the air before he even spoke.

“You’re avoiding me.”

I turned slowly, keeping my expression neutral. “I’m giving you space. The pack is restless.”

He studied me for a long moment, his green eyes sharp. “The pack is always restless before the full moon.”

He took a step closer, and I had to resist the instinct to step back. I refused to appear weak in front of him.

His gaze swept over me, assessing. “You feel it, don’t you?”

I stiffened. “Feel what?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t lie to me, Selene.”

I swallowed hard.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell him that I felt nothing, that I wasn’t like them. That I wasn’t his.

But the air between us was too thick, too charged.

And when he took another step closer, his body mere inches from mine, I could barely breathe.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, trying to anchor myself.

The truth?

The truth was that my body ached in ways it shouldn’t. That the closer he got, the harder it was to think straight. That every instinct inside me screamed to reach for him, to touch him, to let him claim me the way a mate was supposed to.

But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

Because if I let him claim me, he would see the truth.

And then he would destroy me.

So instead, I whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His jaw tightened.

For a moment, I thought he would push further. That he would demand an answer I couldn’t give.

But then he exhaled sharply and stepped back, shaking his head.

“You’re lying,” he muttered.

Then, before I could react, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving me standing there, my pulse hammering, my heart betraying me in ways I never thought possible.

The Moon Rises

Night fell.

And with it, the full moon finally rose.

The moment it crested the sky, the air in the Blackthorn camp shifted.

A deep, reverberating howl broke through the silence—a howl of release, of power, of raw, untamed need.

Then another.

And another.

All around me, the pack changed.

Men and women shed their human forms, embracing their wolves. I watched as they shifted—fur rippling over skin, claws replacing fingers, fangs lengthening into lethal weapons.

The energy was wild, intoxicating.

And I was losing control.

My blood burned. The shadows beneath my skin writhed, pushing, wanting.

I clenched my teeth, backing away toward the trees, trying to anchor myself.

No one noticed.

They were too lost in the moon’s embrace, too consumed by their own transformations.

All except one.

Ronan.

He hadn’t shifted.

Not yet.

Instead, he was staring at me.

Across the clearing, his gaze locked onto mine, and something passed between us. Something primal.

He took a step forward.

I took a step back.

His eyes flashed.

Then, before I could stop him, he was there.

Close. Too close.

His breathing was ragged, his control hanging by a thread. His muscles were tight, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

And I wanted him.

For one blinding, impossible second, I wanted him more than I wanted my own survival.

I hated it.

I hated the way his presence made me weak. Hated the way my heart raced for something I could never have.

He reached for me—just the slightest movement.

But it was enough.

I bolted.

Not because I was afraid of him.

But because I was afraid of myself.

Afraid of what I would do if I let him get too close.

Afraid that if he touched me…

I wouldn’t be able to let go.

I ran deep into the forest, my breath coming fast, my body betraying me with every step.

The shadows called to me. The full moon whispered my name.

And behind me, Ronan followed.