The night air was thick with whispers. Emma had barely slept after the last dream—the words still echoed faintly in her ears. *“The bond is not broken. Only tested.”* They repeated like a haunting lullaby, each syllable a reminder of the one thing she was trying so hard to forget.

She tried to shake it off the next morning, forcing herself into the daily rhythm of the pack. Patrols, reports, training sessions—it all blurred together until she found herself at the lake again, the same place she had once confronted the King. The water was calm, reflecting the pale shimmer of the morning sun. She crouched by the edge, dipping her hand into the cold surface.

Her reflection wavered, rippling into something else—golden eyes, intense and familiar.

Emma stumbled backward, her breath catching. When she looked again, it was gone. Just her reflection staring back, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Get it together, Emma,” she muttered under her breath. But deep down, she knew something had changed. The bond she thought she’d severed was pulsing again, alive.

Across the kingdom, George sat at his desk, the same letter from the Greyhound Pack now lying open beside him. He’d read it a dozen times—Andrew’s report on border patrols, nothing of consequence—yet he couldn’t bring himself to put it away.

It wasn’t the words that mattered. It was the handwriting. Her handwriting. Emma’s, neat and careful on the margins where she’d added patrol notes for her brother. He’d recognized it instantly.

He shouldn’t have cared. He told himself that a hundred times.

But when he saw the curve of her letters, the faint smudge of ink where her hand had lingered—his chest ached in a way he couldn’t explain.

Noah entered quietly, watching him from a distance. “Still thinking about her?”

George didn’t look up. “I’m thinking about the pack.”

“Right,” Noah said dryly. “The pack. Specifically, the pack’s Beta’s sister who just so happens to be your rejected mate.”

George gave him a warning look, but Noah didn’t flinch. “You’re losing sleep, George. Whatever’s going on between you and her—”

“There’s nothing between us,” George said sharply, though the lie felt heavier than truth.

Noah sighed. “You can’t lie to the Moon Goddess, my friend. And lately, I think she’s done letting you pretend.”

Before George could answer, the chamber doors opened and Sienna entered. Her smile was perfect, practiced, the kind that could charm an entire council if she wanted to—but today, it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked smoothly, her gaze flicking between the two men.

George forced composure. “Not at all. We were just concluding.”

Noah bowed lightly and excused himself, but not before giving the King a look that said, “You need to deal with this.”

When the door closed, Sienna approached, her gown brushing lightly against the floor. “You’ve been distant,” she said softly, her voice a careful mixture of warmth and reproach. “Even during the meetings, I feel like your mind is elsewhere.”

“I’ve had matters to attend to,” George replied evenly, not meeting her gaze.

“Matters,” she repeated, her tone cooling. “Or ghosts?”

He stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, George.” Sienna’s calm began to crack. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you flinch whenever her name is mentioned? The way you stare at the moon like it’s mocking you?”

George turned away. “This conversation is over.”

“No,” she said firmly, stepping closer. “You may have rejected her, but the goddess hasn’t. That’s why you’re restless. That’s why you can’t look me in the eye anymore.”

He faced her then, and for a moment, the mask slipped. “You think this is easy for me?” His voice was low, rough. “You think I wanted this bond? To feel her even after I rejected her?”

Sienna’s expression faltered. “Then why not fight it? Why not make it stop?”

“Because I don’t know if I can,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself.

Silence. For the first time, Sienna saw not the unshakable King, but a man trapped between duty and destiny. Her anger simmered beneath her chest, but so did something colder—fear.

She took a steadying breath. “If the bond still lives, then she’s still a threat.”

George’s head snapped toward her. “Don’t you dare.”

Sienna held his gaze. “You can’t protect her forever, George. The packs are starting to talk. They think the King is… distracted. Weak.”

He stepped forward, his aura flaring just enough to make her breath hitch. “Watch your words, Sienna. Whatever happens between me and Emma is between me, her, and the goddess. Not you.”

For a heartbeat, Sienna almost backed down—but pride was her poison. “If that’s true,” she said softly, “then may the goddess have mercy on you both.”

She turned and walked out, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, each sound like a declaration of war.

The next evening, the sky darkened in shades of violet and gold. The palace courtyards were being prepared for the upcoming Royal Eclipse Gathering—a sacred event that only occurred once every decade, when the moon aligned directly above the palace. It was said to be the night when the Moon Goddess’s voice could be heard most clearly, when destiny itself could shift.

Every pack across the kingdom was required to send representatives.

The Greyhound Pack included.

When the summons arrived, Emma froze.

Luna Gloria handed her the scroll, smiling softly. “It’s tradition, dear. Every pack must attend.”

Emma hesitated. “But I—”

“I know,” Gloria said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “But perhaps this is the goddess’s way of bringing closure.”

Closure. The word stung.

That night, as she packed her bag, Amy burst into her room uninvited. “You’re going, right?”

Emma sighed. “I have to.”

Amy grinned, sitting on the bed. “Good. Maybe fate’s finally decided to stop playing games.”

“Or maybe it’s just another cruel joke,” Emma murmured.

Amy leaned forward. “Emma, the Moon Goddess doesn’t make jokes. If she’s pulling you back there, there’s a reason. You just have to find out what it is.”

Emma didn’t reply. But when she lay in bed later that night, the same whisper returned, clearer now, laced with divine warmth.

“Under the moonlight, truth will awaken.”

She turned toward the window where the moon glowed like liquid silver, and for the first time, instead of fear, she felt something else—resolve.

When George received the guest list the next morning, his hand froze over her name.

Emma Henderson – Greyhound Pack.

The words blurred as his pulse quickened. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The universe was mocking him, surely. He’d asked the goddess for peace, not a reminder of his mistake.

But deep down, something inside him stirred—something that wasn’t dread at all, but anticipation.

He didn’t notice Noah standing in the doorway until the man spoke. “You knew she’d come.”

George exhaled slowly. “I didn’t know. I hoped she wouldn’t.”

“Then why do you look like a man waiting for her?”

He had no answer.

The journey to the palace took two days. By the time the Greyhound entourage arrived, the moon had already begun its ascent. The palace was a vision—lanterns hung along marble pillars, the scent of roses and amber filling the air. Everything shimmered under the goddess’s light.

Emma’s heart pounded as she stepped through the grand gates. The same halls that once witnessed her rejection now seemed to hum with new energy, as if the walls themselves remembered.

Her eyes caught movement near the balcony—him.

King George. Dressed in black and silver, his presence radiated authority and quiet torment all at once. His gaze swept over the crowd until it found her. The moment their eyes met, time seemed to still.

Neither moved. Neither spoke. But the bond roared to life, wild and unrestrained, invisible to all but felt by both like a heartbeat shared.

A faint wind swept through the courtyard, carrying whispers that only they could hear.

“The bond is not broken.”

Emma’s breath hitched. George’s hands curled at his sides.

The moon above shimmered brighter, almost alive.

Sienna, watching from across the hall, followed George’s gaze and felt her stomach twist. Her smile faltered as realization dawned—the goddess was choosing, and she wasn’t the chosen one.

The ceremony began, the elders chanting prayers to the Moon Goddess, their voices rising in rhythm with the pulsing glow from above. But as the light reached its peak, a sudden tremor rippled through the ground. Gasps filled the air as the moon flared gold for an instant.

And then, in the crowd, two symbols began to glow faintly—one on George’s wrist, the other on Emma’s.

Matching marks.

A crescent and a flame intertwined.

The mark of divine reclamation.

Every wolf present fell to their knees, murmuring blessings and shock alike. The air vibrated with divine energy, and for a moment, Emma could swear she saw her—the Moon Goddess herself, watching through the light, her voice echoing in their minds.

“What is bound by the moon shall not be undone by pride.”

When the light faded, the hall fell into stunned silence. Emma stood trembling, her hand over the glowing mark that slowly dimmed. Across the room, George’s eyes met hers, his expression unreadable—but the truth was clear.

Fate had intervened.

The bond had returned.

And this time, there would be no running from it.