The dream had clung to her like smoke, thick and invasive. No matter how many times Eli scrubbed her face in the bathroom sink that morning, no matter how much scalding water she splashed over her skin, she couldn’t wash away the feel of his mouth on hers. It was still there, pressed against her lips, as real as the ache that curled low in her belly when she let her thoughts stray too long.

She hated herself for it.

Lucien Veyra was a nightmare dressed in gold, and her body had no business remembering him like that. The kiss wasn’t real, she told herself. Dreams weren’t real. They were cruel reflections of what the wolf inside her wanted, not what Eli chose. And Eli chose had always chosen to keep herself free.

Still, her reflection in the mirror betrayed her. Her cheeks burned, her mouth looked swollen, and her eyes… her eyes carried something she didn’t want to name.

She yanked the towel off the rack and scrubbed her face dry until the skin stung.

The house was quiet when she stepped back into the hall. Too quiet. Veronica had gone out early, something about checking on the Wardens’ patrol schedules, but Eli knew the truth. Her sister was giving her space, waiting for her to come clean about the bond she hadn’t asked for. About the alpha she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Eli wasn’t ready to hand over that truth. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

She pulled on her boots and jacket, grabbed her keys, and left before the walls of the house could close in on her.

The past had teeth. It never really let go.

Eli felt it most on nights like this, when the air tasted of pine and silver and the moon was just beginning to rise. The memories prowled close, their jaws brushing her heels, and if she wasn’t careful, they’d catch her.

She’d been nine the first time she asked about the wolf.

“Veronica, when do you think mine will come?”

Her sister had been brushing her hair by the fire, gentle strokes that made Eli’s eyelids heavy. Veronica’s hands were always steady, always careful, as if she knew how fragile Eli felt inside.

“You’ll hear her when she’s ready,” Veronica had said, voice low and warm. “And when she comes, she’ll be strong. Stronger than anyone else’s.”

Eli had believed her. She always did.

But then thirteen came. And fourteen. And fifteen.

Every year the whispers grew sharper. The other girls shifted early, sleek wolves with teeth and speed and power. The boys too, laughing as they ran wild beneath the full moon, their paws pounding the earth.

And Eli?

Every attempt ended the same. Pain. Failure. Shame.

She remembered the first time she begged the goddess for help. She’d been fourteen, curled in the clearing with Veronica’s arm wrapped tight around her. Her body had been on fire, bones half-cracked, her wolf snarling against the cage of her skin.

“Make it stop,” Eli had whispered into the dirt. “Please, make it stop.”

But the goddess had been silent.

Veronica had carried her home.

The Moon Rite had been the worst.

Sixteen was supposed to be sacred. The whole pack gathered, the fires lit, drums pounding in the dark. It was the night the goddess marked her children, calling them into their wolves for the first time.

Eli had stood barefoot in the circle, heart hammering as the alpha called her name. She’d stepped forward, the firelight painting her skin gold, and she’d thought this is it. Tonight I’ll prove them wrong.

The change had come fast, too fast. Pain streaked through her veins, her body trembling as the drums grew louder. She could hear the wolf inside, clawing, howling, demanding freedom.

But just as the fire reached its peak

Nothing.

Her knees buckled. She collapsed in the dirt, gasping, broken halfway through.

The silence had been worse than the laughter.

But the laughter came anyway.

“Goddess’s mistake.”

“Half-breed.”

“Useless.”

Someone had spit in the dirt near her head. Someone else had laughed so hard they doubled over.

And Eli had wanted the earth to swallow her whole.

Afterward, Veronica had dragged her from the circle, fury burning in her eyes. Eli still remembered the way her sister’s hands shook as she brushed the dirt from her face.

“Don’t you dare listen to them,” Veronica had hissed. “You hear me? You are not broken.”

But Eli had heard the crack in her sister’s voice. She’d felt the tremor in her hands. And that had been worse than the laughter, too knowing that even Veronica, even her anchor, wasn’t sure anymore.

Now, years later, Eli carried those memories like scars. They sat heavy in her chest, ghosts she couldn’t exorcise.

And the bond with Lucien had only made them worse.

It was like the wolf inside her had scented him and gone mad, pacing, snarling, desperate. The bond whispered promises she didn’t trust, tugged at her skin like a hook. It wanted him. Needed him.

And Eli was terrified.

Because if she couldn’t control her wolf, if she couldn’t even shift… what would happen when the bond demanded more than she could give?.

She remembered one night, just after the Rite, when she’d woken to find Veronica sitting by the window, shoulders bowed, staring out at the trees. Eli had padded across the room and whispered, “Do you think the goddess forgot me?”

Veronica had turned, eyes shining with something Eli hadn’t understood then. Grief. Rage. Desperation.

“No,” she’d said fiercely. “The goddess doesn’t forget. She saves her hardest battles for her strongest wolves.”

Eli had wanted to believe her. Wanted it so badly her chest ached.

But years later, sitting by the creek with her wolf prowling inside her, she wondered if it had only been a lie meant to keep her alive.

The water rushed over stones, steady and unbothered, as Eli leaned back on her hands and tilted her head to the sky.

“Strongest wolf, huh?” she muttered. “Then why the hell can’t I shift?”

The trees, as always, had no answer.

Only the restless thrum of the bond in her blood, pulsing like a second heartbeat, as if mocking her.

The past faded only when the present forced its way in.

The creek’s steady murmur was broken by something sharper a rustle in the trees, too heavy to be a rabbit, too deliberate to be the wind.

Eli’s head snapped up.

Her wolf surged to the surface, pressing hard against her ribs, ears pricked. Not a shift never a shift but a restless, throbbing awareness. The way a starving thing senses food close by.

Her breath stuttered. She knew that weight in the air.

Lucien.

She couldn’t see him, but she didn’t need to. His presence pressed against her skin like heat, filling the clearing, saturating the very air. The bond leapt, claws sinking into her chest, dragging her toward it.

Her pulse quickened. Her fingers curled tight into the grass.

“Go away,” she whispered, though she knew he couldn’t hear. Or maybe he could. Sometimes she wondered if the bond carried more than just heat and ache if it carried secrets too.

Her wolf snarled at her, furious at the words, desperate to run, to chase, to submit.

“No,” Eli hissed under her breath. “You don’t get to want him. Not after everything.”

The trees stayed silent. But the presence didn’t fade. If anything, it grew heavier.

And she hated herself for it, for the way her body reacted goosebumps rising, heart pounding, every sense sharpening until the whole world was just him.

She remembered the whispers in the diner. He’s been off since he rejected his mate.

Her.

Rejected, broken, unshifted Eli.

Her chest burned.

She pushed herself to her feet, backing toward the path, her movements sharp, defiant. “I won’t be that girl,” she muttered. “I won’t be the mistake twice.”

But as she turned away from the creek, the weight of him followed.

Not footsteps. Not sound. Just presence.

And though she told herself she hated it, her wolf thrashed inside her like a creature caged, howling for the mate it refused to let go of.

Back in town, the streets of Grayridge buzzed as though nothing had shifted. The bakery smelled of cinnamon, children played tag in the dusty square, and Veronica leaned against the porch railing of their house, arms folded, eyes sharp.

“You’re late,” she said, though it was barely past dusk.

Eli brushed past her, shoulders tight. “Went walking.”

“Walking where?”

“Does it matter?”

Veronica’s silence was answer enough. It mattered. Everything mattered when it came to Eli.

She locked herself in her room, pressing her forehead to the door, heart still thrumming with the ghost of his presence.

And when she slid down to the floor, knees drawn to her chest, she realized something terrifying

For the first time in years, her wolf didn’t feel broken.

It felt alive.

And that was worse.

Because it meant Lucien wasn’t done with her. Not yet.