Raina's POV

It took me hours to realise that the blood-red moon hadn’t stopped bleeding even after the storm ended.

It still hung there like a curse low, full, and angry. It cast a sickly red hue over the trees, the ground, my hands… and over the face of the man who now lay still in Mama Rita’s hut.

The king.

My mate.

My curse.

The realisation hadn't come easily not while panic raged in my chest or while the air outside buzzed with the nervous shuffling of my pack.

And yet, as I stood there, frozen in the moment, my heart slowly caught up with what my soul already knew:

The prophecy wasn't a myth.

The blood moon wasn't just a sky event.

And the Star Goddess hadn’t been a villain.

She had been a warning.

A warning the world chose to ignore.

They used to call the Star Goddess the Moon’s Mirror.

She had not cursed the wolves. She had protected them.

Her power had once tethered the moon’s rage, keeping it in balance with the wolves' nature.

Under her gaze, shifters lived in harmony with the night. Their transformations were graceful, their instincts clean.

But when the Great War came a thousand years ago, when alphas began to hunger for more than just land and loyalty—she was betrayed. Hunted. Slaughtered. Or so they thought.

It was her death that broke the moon.

It cracked the balance.

And what emerged was the blood-red moon: a permanent scar across the heavens.

It wasn’t just crimson. It was alive.

It infected wolves warping their minds, tainting their spirits, driving them mad with feral rage or rotting their bodies from within. Many lost their ability to shift altogether.

Others… turned on each other.

That was why we were dying.

Why our packs fell apart.

Why I—unable to shift—was marked and hated.

Because the prophecy claimed the Star Goddess would return, born into the weakest bloodline.

A Mundane.

A girl.

Me.

And no one wanted her back.

Not because she was evil… but because she would change everything.

The strong feared her. The corrupt feared her. The cursed hated her.

And so, they hated me.

“Hey, you can’t fall asleep now,” I snapped, stepping closer to the bed where he lay.

But he had already passed out again. The rising and falling of his chest had slowed.

Panic surged in my throat like acid.

I turned to Samantha, who was staring at me as if I’d just grown another head.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

I shrugged, trying to keep the terror from my voice. “Assemble the soldiers. We have to protect what belongs to us.”

And by “what,” I meant everything—my fragile pack… and the unconscious man whose fate was now tied to mine.

I walked out of the hut and moved toward the fences. No matter what, I wouldn't let them cross.

The wolves had come riding on horses, which was quite ironic. I stepped forward to address them.

“Good day, gentlemen. To what do I owe this pleasant visit?” I asked. My eyes searched for who would come forward to speak.

A middle-aged man came forward. His beard hung low, woven with linings of gold and beads at the tip. His chest was bare, and his face was firm, unsmiling.

Almost intimidating, except that I wasn't.

“How dare you kidnap the king? Do you know the crime you've committed?” he shouted. I could feel Samantha tense behind me.

We were nothing compared to the troop that had come looking for their king. We had just twenty soldiers.

And none of them were able to shift.

“You accuse us of a crime we know nothing about.” My voice was firm. It seemed to annoy the man more.

He walked closer to us, and two of the soldiers stepped forward to defend me.

“You think I can't tear you to pieces if I wanted to?” the man asked with a sneer.

“We aren't happy about this,” I said.

“Neither am I. Word was sent that the king is among you. Let us search,” he said, and I clenched my hands into fists.

They couldn't search. They must not step into the fences. We would be too weak to protect our people if they did. My heart was slamming loudly against my chest, but I tried hard not to show how nervous I was.

I wanted to bite down hard on my lips, but instead, I sucked in a breath.

“We mean no harm, but we can't let you enter. It is true that I found an injured man in the woods, but he's in critical condition and has not been able to identify himself.”

The man frowned at me.

“Why are you talking to me, child? Who is the leader of this—” he waved his hand around, gesturing toward us.

“I am,” I said and stepped forward. He looked taken aback for a moment and then burst out laughing.

I closed my eyes, unclenching and clenching my fists.

“Do we attack?” I heard Liam whisper. I turned to him immediately and gave him a look of disapproval.

“Do you want to get killed?” I said between gritted teeth, then turned back to the man, who was whispering something into the ear of another. A younger fellow this time. He had a golden bow and arrow around his neck, and his hair was pulled back in a tight knot.

He stepped forward then.

“My name is Cyrus, and I am the king's beta. My men mean no harm unless you try to force us away,” he said, and I raised my chin.

“I can't let the whole troop enter the fence. That would be endangering my pack.”

“I'll go alone then,” he said, and I could hear the old geezer hiss his name.

“It's fine, Lancelot,” he said, then turned back to me.

“If I confirm that the king is indeed injured as you say and is under treatment, we will leave with him. Peacefully.”

“He can't be moved. He's in critical condition,” I said, more out of the fact that I couldn't let him be taken away from me so easily, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I still didn't believe that he was the king they were looking for.

“I'll decide when I take a look,” he said, and I exhaled. I couldn't exactly stall them much longer without bringing their wrath upon the pack.

“Our men will stay here then. Follow me,” I said and turned away. I could see the hesitation in the warriors' faces, but I assured them it was the best for now.

There was a reason we never let strangers in, and this was it.

When we went in, the women had already hidden the children, and the men—a few of them—were seated outside, ready to defend against any form of danger.

“Your whole pack looks like a camp for refugees,” I could hear the beta say, but I chose to ignore him. I led him into the hut where my mate lay.

“King Xander,” I heard him call, and soon he had moved from behind me and was next to my mate.

Xander.

“This is the king? How can you not know?” There was a sharp edginess in his voice, and I furrowed my brows.

“We are a camp of refugees. How could we?” I said slowly. He turned back to me, a little taken aback.

“I am sorry. Not everyone has seen the king,” he said, but that wasn't my problem anymore.

This man, who I'd mysteriously crashed into, who I'd found out with shock was my mate,

Was not only my mate but the king?

It didn't sit well with me. Not at all.

When the king came back to his senses, he would definitely reject me. I'd only dreamed of being mated to a wolf from a powerful pack.

That was the wildest of my dreams, not being fated to the king…

Just then, the beta turned to me.

“This is a healing room? I guess he cannot be moved just yet,” he said, and I nodded.

He exhaled.

“Fine. I'll send the others away. But I'll stay till His Majesty is strong enough to leave.”

“Will the other members be willing to leave you alone with the king? They still think we are a threat.”

“They will, and if you are indeed a threat to His Majesty, I'm enough to handle it,” he said, then pinned me with his gaze.

“Plus, I think I have found my mate,” he said, and I furrowed my brows, my breath caught in my throat.

He wasn’t by any chance speaking of me, right?

It couldn't possibly be.