The first night without Ash felt like silence had teeth. Mira lay wide awake beneath cold sheets, listening to the crackle of the hearth and the occasional howl that echoed beyond the manor walls. Each one sent her wolf bristling. Not out of fear—but instinct. There was something off in the air. She it was wrong.
Ash was gone.
He hadn't said goodbye, hadn't told her where he was going. Only that something darker was coming. And now the bond that tethered them—raw and newly formed—felt distant, it was so dim like a dying flame.
By dawn, his absence was undeniable. And by the second day, it was suffocating.
No one would tell her anything.
She had asked Rowa and even the guards. She even tried one of the kitchen maids who was soft-spoken and too kind to lie well.
"He left orders," the girl had whispered, eyes darting nervously. "Said you weren't to leave the manor. For your own good, my lady."
My lady.
Gods, she hated the sound of that. Like it wasn't Mira Alaric beneath the silk and blood-bound titles. Like she'd become something new, something that didn't quite belong anywhere, anymore.
Not a Calder. Not a Silverclaw. She was just… a symbol. And still, no one said the word she feared the most – Dead.
Was Ash dead?
Her wolf didn't think so. But that didn't stop the ache.
By midday, the estate buzzed with activity. A wave of strange energy passed through the halls as if the entire Crimson Circle had been jolted awake. Mira watched from a high balcony as tents were erected in the clearing beyond the main hall. Crimson flags bearing the Calder crest—three crescent moons and a snarling wolf—rose high like a tall pole to see the Calder's colony.
The ceremony preparation, the final rite will come so soon.
Their wedding. Not the political binding they'd done in blood but the real one and sacred one. The one performed under the rising Blood Moon, where the Alpha bond would be sealed not just in flesh and name—but in soul.
It was tradition, an ancient. Powerful and dangerous seal.
She gripped the stone rail until her knuckles paled. "He's not even here," she muttered. "How do they expect a wedding with no groom?"
A voice answered from behind.
"Maybe they think you won't notice."
Mira turned sharply.
A man stood in the shadowed archway, arms crossed over a broad chest, leaning casually against the pillar as if he belonged there. He was tall—slightly shorter than Ash—but sleeker. Built like a blade, not a hammer. His black hair swept back from a sharp, handsome face. His green eyes that glinted with mischief or malice.
Maybe both.
"Who are you?" Mira asked, voice steel-edged.
He grinned. "Elias Calder. Ash's cousin."
She didn't trust the ease in his tone. Or the way he looked at her—like she was an unwrapped secret he planned to taste.
"I wasn't told you were staying in the manor."
"You weren't told a lot of things." He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "Like where your husband disappeared to. Or what really happened the night your father died."
Her breath caught. "What do you know about that?"
Elias ignored her question. Walked past her to look out over the grounds. "The last wedding held under the Blood Moon ended in fire and blood. History has a habit of repeating itself, you know."
She stared at him, heart pounding. "If you have something to say, say it."
Elias tilted his head, gaze sliding back to her. "Be careful, Mira. You're not just marrying Ash Calder. You're marrying into the dark heart of this pack. And not everyone wants to see you survive it."
She stepped forward, anger rising like bile. "Then why are you warning me?"
His grin widened. "Because you're more interesting alive."
And with that, he vanished down the corridor, leaving only a whisper of his cologne—sweet clove and smoke—and a gut-deep chill in his wake.
That night, Mira locked her bedroom doors. The storm outside returned with a vengeance. Wind howled and rain lashed the windows like claws.
She sat curled on the velvet armchair near the hearth, staring at the fire until her eyes blurred.
She hated this. The waiting and silence.
The absence of him. And then… a rustle. A soft and barely there. But her wolf heard it.
She stood slowly, stepping toward the bed.
There, on her pillow—unmistakably fresh—was a folded slip of parchment. She hadn't heard anyone enter. The door was still locked.
Heart hammering, Mira unfolded it. "The truth died with your father. But it's buried here."
Her fingers trembled. There was no signature, and not even a scent. Only a small, crude drawing scrawled at the bottom. A symbol she hadn't seen since she was a child.
The Silverclaw seal.
Her father's seal!
Mira stared at it, chest twisting with something between hope and dread.
Someone knew. And they were inside this house.
She dressed quickly—black leathers, tight boots, the small silver dagger she kept hidden in her boot strapped to her thigh. Every step out the door felt like betrayal. Like rebellion and freedom.
She followed the note's implication—the estate's lower wings. The ones sealed after the last Alpha died. Rumor said they were haunted. She hoped they were because the living scared her far more than the dead.
She moved like a shadow, ducking guards and staying to the back passages. No one saw her. The bond with Ash hadn't flared once since yesterday. The air was thick with secrets. She could feel them.
At the end of the old hall, she found it.
A sealed door, carved into the wood was the same symbol from the note and her father's crest.
Blood magic crackled faintly across the surface. A protection ward.
Mira didn't hesitate. She bit into her thumb, smeared blood across the lock, and whispered the old vow her father had taught her, "For pack. For truth. For vengeance."
The ward flickered—then burned away. The door creaked open.
Darkness breathed against her face.
What lay beyond was not a room, but a chamber. Round, stone-lined. Lit by faint torchlight that sparked to life when she stepped inside. There were shelves of scrolls, ancient weapons maps and a wall lined with names.
Every Silverclaw wolf lost in the war.
Mira's knees gave out. She knelt before the wall, hand pressed to her heart.
Her father's name was there. Her mother's. Her brother's. And beneath them, etched with a different knife, were words that shattered her breath, "Ash Calder stayed the blade."
She blinked.
No. That couldn't be—he had led the charge. Had stood over her with blood on his hands.
Hadn't he?
A soft creak behind her and she spun. But no one was there, only the wind.
That night, she dreamed again, of the fire, her father's death… and Ash. But this time, the memory bent. Ash was there—but not attacking. He was shielding her. Shouting at someone else. Fighting his own kind.
When she woke, her cheeks were wet. And she wasn't alone.
A figure stood by her bed, a tall and familiar silhouette.
Ash.
He turned slowly, amber eyes locked on hers. His cloak was torn and his knuckles bloodied. He looked like hell.
But he was here.
"You're back," she whispered.
"I said I would be," he rasped.
She stood, fists clenched. "You disappeared. No one told me anything. Do you know how that felt?"
His voice was tired and hollow. "Like what it feels when everyone you trust is already dead?"
Her chest ached. "Ash…"
He stepped closer. Only a breath apart. "I didn't mean to be gone this long. But something's wrong, Mira. The corpse at the border—it was just the beginning."
"What is it? What did you find?"
He looked down, shadows painting his face. "A body, it was torn in half, with marked of Silverclaw runes. Someone's using your bloodline to stir rebellion."
Her breath caught.
"Ash, my father's crest—someone left it in my room. They led me to the old wing. I saw the wall. I saw your name."
He froze.
Then, very softly, he said, "You weren't supposed to find that."
She reached out, grasping his wrist. "Why is your name there?"
He looked at her like it broke him.
"Because I tried to stop the war. And they branded me a traitor for it."
Mira's world tilted. And in the silence between their heartbeats, something shifted.
Not hatred, not even a duty but a thread of something deeper, raw and unspoken.
The moon outside turned a deeper red. And the bond between them burned like it had finally awakened.