The night air bit cold against the skin, as if even the wind objected to her wedding with Adrian.
Inside, Clara stood before the mirror. Her eyes traced the pale fabric of the dress that clung awkwardly to her frame.
"It doesn't fit, Mother," she murmured.
"Be quiet. It is perfect," her adoptive mother replied, her tone clipped.
"But—"
"Hush." With practiced hands, her mother placed a crown of flowers on her head.
She smiled, thin and sharp, assessing her like a work of art, only that Clara looked like art done in a rush.
"Now you are ready."
Moments later, Clara's legs trembled as she was led down the aisle of stone and earth, her adoptive parents on either side.
The full moon hung above her, pale and cold, its light spilling over her like quiet disapproval.
And yet, just for a moment, she thought it pulsed, quick as a heartbeat. Like it was telling her, gently, that this wasn't the end.
She shifted her gaze forward. The pale gown felt more like a shroud than a bridal dress. Silver threads weaved through her braids, a cruel imitation of Luna's blessing.
Her steps were slow, her eyes hollow.
She wasn't walking toward love. She was walking toward sacrifice.
Each breath came shallow. She could feel the sneers pricking her skin, hear the low laughter like thorns underfoot.
The ill-fitting gown only made her humiliation sharper.
"A wolfless Luna? What a joke," someone scoffed.
"She shouldn't be marrying the Alpha," another whispered.
"He isn't taking a wife," her mother corrected, loud enough for others to hear. "He is collecting a debt."
Clara's head snapped toward her.
Her mother only shrugged.
Hot tears burned behind Clara's eyes, and she blinked hard, forcing them back.
"Keep moving," her father hissed.
Her heart cracked under the weight of their words.
She lifted her gaze to Adrian, desperate for a hint of comfort, even the smallest kindness.
But there was none.
He stood tall at the center, draped in ceremonial black, his posture sharp. His face was carved into stone. He looked like a man enduring an inconvenience, eager for it to end.
At his side, an elder wolf with clouded, blind eyes raised his hand.
His voice rasped like broken stone. "Bring her forward."
Her adoptive father nudged her forward, harder this time.
Clara stumbled, catching herself just in time to fall into place beside Adrian.
The elder lifted a curved blade, cut his palm, and raised it to the moon. His voice rose in a low chant, old words carried on the night air. He called on the Moon, the ancestors, and the laws that bound every wolf to their pack.
Clara's chest tightened.
She remembered watching weddings as a child. The way brides would blush and grooms would smile shyly as their blood mingled. A promise. A bond.
But Adrian didn't reach for her. He didn't speak. He didn't even look her way. He only stood tall, waiting, like a king collecting tribute.
When the elder finally turned with the blade, Adrian simply extended his hand. His face was blank, unmoved, as the steel sliced his skin.
Then the elder motioned to Clara. Her throat went dry. She stepped forward, her fingers trembling, and winced as the blade cut across her palm.
Warm blood slipped down Clara's wrist, falling into Adrian's open palm. She held her breath, waiting for something.
A spark, warmth, bond, anything to make the moment feel real.
But nothing happened. No warmth. No connection. Just silence.
Standing beside Adrian felt like falling into a void. Cold. Empty. Like she'd given a piece of herself to someone who couldn't feel it.
The emptiness pressed against her chest, tight and suffocating.
And then, just for a heartbeat, something stirred inside her.
A flicker. Not from Adrian. Not from that circle.
But from somewhere else. Someone else.
It was a pulse. Alive. Certain. And gone before she could hold onto it.
She blinked, her breath shaky, aching to feel it again.
"The bond is sealed," the elder declared.
A howl rose in unison from the pack, the sound shaking the night. But beneath it, Clara heard the whispers.
"She'll always be a wolfless Luna."
"She'll never bear him heirs."
The words stung sharper than the blade. She bit her tongue until the copper taste of blood filled her mouth, holding back tears.
"The Alpha may now seal the bond with a kiss," the elder said aloud.
Clara drew a shaky breath, bracing herself. Her lips trembled as she tilted her face up, waiting for the brush of warmth, for the smallest spark of belonging.
Her wolf rose inside her. Not with longing, but with warning. A low growl vibrated in her chest, rough and broken.
"Wrong," it whispered. "Wrong."
Adrian didn't move.
Instead, a smile curved his lips. Thin, sharp, mocking.
His eyes weren't on her at all. They slid past her to a she-wolf in the crowd. A smile traded for a smile, soft where his touch to Clara should have been.
The crowd roared, their cheers a cruel parody of celebration. Laughter swelled, pressing against Clara's ribs until it cut like glass.
Her fists curled at her sides, her nails breaking skin, pain mingling with shame.
And still, beneath it all, something else stirred.
A pulse that wasn't hers, thudding, steady, sure. Like a heartbeat answering her own.
It wasn't Adrian. It could never be Adrian.
Her wolf strained toward it, restless, clawing, whispering a single truth. "Not him."
But Clara forced it back down, burying it before it could rise.
At that moment, she understood that she was bound to a man who made no effort to hide his disdain for her. Or his desire for someone else.
The bond was sealed. It was too late. This was her fate now.
Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, each one sharper than the last.
Suddenly, Adrian's gaze cut to Theo, his Beta. His voice was cold, stripped of any warmth. "Bring her. We don't have time to waste."
Then, leaning closer, his tone dropped into something quieter, sharper, meant to be hidden. "I want that one too."
The words were low, but not low enough.
Clara heard them.
Her stomach twisted, a chill rippling down her spine.
"Yes, Alpha," Theo replied, his movements swift, efficient, like a predator already circling prey.
Clara's gaze followed Theo as he strode toward the young she-wolf.
A sharp heat flared in Clara's chest. Anger. It rose sudden and foreign, thudding inside her like two hearts beating out of rhythm. The sensation wasn't hers alone.
It was her wolf stirring again, restless. "Wait," it whispered.
Clara pressed her nails into her palms, steadying herself, forcing her breath slow. She could not let them see. She could not let them see her pain. Not here.
Before she could fully process the humiliation, her adoptive father appeared at her side.
His voice was flat, cutting through the hum of voices around them. "You are Luna now. Serve your pack. Pay the debt."
Before Clara could speak, he turned away, her mother following close behind.
She stood frozen, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
Then, something in the air changed. Just for a second, Clara felt it.
Like someone was watching her. Not just watching, but seeing straight through her.
Her breath caught. Her skin warmed like she had been touched.
It was that pulse again.
Faint, steady, like someone's heartbeat pressed against hers from a distance.
She turned quickly, heart thudding, but there was nothing there. Just shadows and silence.
All around her, wolves stared. Some with open scorn, others with smug amusement.
The truth was clear. She had not been chosen. She had been purchased.
But even though what lay ahead was a nightmare, the pulse she had felt told her otherwise.
Somewhere, someone knew she was more than this.