Chapter Two
The walls of the Shadow Fang fortress felt too close like stone fangs waiting to snap shut.
Selene followed in Ronan's shadow, their joined hands still clasped, her palm tingling where his touch branded her. She wanted to pull away—needed to—but too many eyes followed them. Curious. Jealous. Suspicious.
Inside, the ceremonial hall was colder than the outside air, lined with obsidian pillars etched in runes she didn't recognize. Torches flickered with blue fire. The scent of incense and iron clung to the stone like rot buried under perfume.
Ronan didn't say a word as he guided her to a raised dais at the end of the hall. With a subtle nod, he dismissed the gathered wolves. Some obeyed. Others lingered, confused or angry before a single growl from him sent them scattering.
And then it was just the two of them.
Selene finally pulled her hand free. "What the hell was that?"
He studied her in silence for a beat, then slowly descended the dais steps, his expression unreadable. "You tell me. You're the one hiding."
Her heart faltered. "You don't know who I am."
"I know your scent." His voice was calm, but there was a storm beneath it. "Your magic stinks of both moon and shadow. You don't belong here."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Then why choose me?"
He moved closer, stopping just in front of her again. His presence was heat and control and something else—something ancient.
"Because the moment I saw you," he said quietly, "my wolf screamed."
Her breath caught.
So it's real. The bond. Not a trick. Not a side effect of the curse.
She stepped back, her throat tight. "That doesn't mean anything. We don't have to—"
"You don't want this." His words weren't a question. "I felt it too. The resistance. But the bond is forged. And that changes everything."
Selene turned away from him, pretending to study a line of swords mounted on the far wall. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the polished steel—long black hair cascading from beneath her hood, eyes still glowing faintly violet in the torchlight. Wrong. Her entire presence here was wrong.
She had come to kill the Alpha of Shadow Fang.
Not to be chosen by him.
Not to feel drawn to him.
Not to feel seen.
Her fingers clenched at her sides.
"You think claiming me as Luna will make me loyal?" she asked without turning.
"No," Ronan said simply. "But it buys me time. And I need time to figure out what you are."
That made her look at him.
"What I am?" she echoed coldly.
"You're not just a wolf," he said, watching her closely. "You're something else. Something cursed."
She didn't flinch—but it took effort.
He was right.
The curse on her bloodline ran deep. It wasn't just magic. It was tied to vengeance. To the night the Shadow Fang wolves ripped her pack apart and unknowingly marked her fate. The Moon Goddess hadn't answered her cries.
Something else had.
A darker force.
Selene's voice was low when she spoke again. "You're right, Alpha. I'm not just a wolf."
Ronan tilted his head slightly, unreadable. "So what are you?"
"I'm the nightmare your ancestors tried to bury," she whispered.
Silence stretched between them, thick with more than tension—recognition, wariness… maybe even dread.
Then he did something she hadn't expected.
He smiled.
Not cruelly. Not mockingly. But like a soldier who had finally spotted the real battlefield.
"I hope so," he said.
Because if you're not afraid of your mate… what's the point?
—
Later that night, in the chamber she'd been given—luxurious, guarded, and far too close to Ronan's—Selene stood by the moonlit window, staring out over the darkened training grounds below. She could see the torches. The guards. The sharp corners of the fortress that once destroyed everything she loved.
Her fingertips brushed the old scar beneath her collarbone, shaped like a crescent.
Her first memory was blood.
Her second… the voice that promised her power.
And now, that voice whispered again.
"You are inside the den of wolves. Do not fall for the one who bares his throat."
Selene closed her eyes.
Tomorrow she would begin. Search the fortress. Find the scroll. Unlock the gate.
But tonight, she had to survive the pull of a bond that should never have been.
A cursed Luna to the enemy Alpha.
And still… a part of her wondered…
Why did fate bind her to the one she was born to destroy?
The chamber was too elegant. A room for a queen—not a spy. Velvet-draped windows, dark mahogany shelves lined with books in forgotten tongues, a fire crackling like the past never burned it all down.
Selene had slept in dirt, in caves, under spell-woven tents. She didn't belong among golden-threaded blankets and rose-scented bath oils.
She moved toward the vanity, fingers brushing over the carved wolf sigil etched into the mirror's frame. Its twin eyes gleamed with embedded moonstones. Her reflection stared back—haunted, unfamiliar, but not weak. Not yet.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Before she could answer, the heavy door opened.
A man stepped inside, tall and swift, dressed in formal black. He moved with the precision of a blade unsheathed, and his eyes—ice blue, sharp with calculation—landed on her like a dagger finding its target.
"I see you've settled in," he said coolly.
Selene stood straighter. "That depends. Are you here to welcome me… or interrogate me?"
He cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Both, if you'd like. I'm Caelan Thorne, Beta of Shadow Fang. Ronan's second-in-command. And—depending on your answer to my next question—possibly your executioner."
He was beautiful in a deadly way—sculpted jaw, short silver-blond hair, and a presence that vibrated with barely leashed power. But it was the jagged scar running from his ear down his neck, half-concealed by a high collar, that told her he'd earned his place in blood.
Selene didn't blink. "How charming."
Caelan stepped closer, eyeing her like a puzzle. "You didn't flinch when Ronan claimed you. You didn't smile. You didn't even scent like a mated wolf should."
"Maybe I'm broken," she said softly.
"Or lying."
He circled her slowly, like a hawk assessing its prey. "Ronan doesn't make impulsive decisions. But this… choosing a stranger from nowhere, with no pack ties, no history?"
"I didn't ask to be chosen."
"No," he murmured, stopping behind her. "But maybe you arranged it."
Selene turned to face him fully now, her expression unreadable. "Tell me, Beta. Are you always this paranoid, or do I just threaten you?"
He didn't move. "You're a threat to him. That's enough for me."
Their eyes locked.
Then he leaned in, his voice low and sharp. "If you harm him, I will bury you where even your gods won't find your bones."
Selene let her wolf rise just enough to glint in her violet eyes. "If I harm him, I'll bury myself."
They stared at each other for a beat too long—both warriors, both tethered to an Alpha neither of them fully trusted.
Then Caelan straightened, nodding slightly. "There's a court dinner tomorrow. You'll sit at Ronan's left. Make allies. Or make enemies. But watch your back, Luna."
He turned and left without another word.
Selene exhaled only after the door clicked shut.
She hadn't expected the Beta to test her so soon. And she hadn't expected the flicker of something else in his gaze—not attraction, not hatred… but curiosity.
The Shadow Fang's inner circle was watching her already.
And the deeper she walked into this war, the more she realized she wasn't just here to kill Ronan.
She was here to survive the impossible.
To navigate the curse that bound her bloodline.
To uncover the truth of what happened that night.
And most dangerous of all…
To survive whatever this bond with Ronan truly was.
Later That Night
Selene didn't sleep.
Her body lay still in the silken bed, but her mind wandered the halls she hadn't yet dared to enter. Through the stone chambers that hid secrets older than war. Through the library vaults that whispered of curses and bloodlines. Through the locked tower Ronan had passed by without comment—but she had seen it. Felt it.
There was something hidden here. Something powerful.
She clutched the pendant beneath her blouse. A black onyx wolf, passed down from her mother before she was torn from her arms.
It pulsed faintly.
A sign.
The war hadn't just begun.
It had always been waiting.