ARIA'S POV
I wake up on the ground.
My face is pressed against cold earth. Everything hurts—my chest, my head, my bones. I try to push myself up, but my arms won't work.
What happened?
Then I remember.
Kael. The rejection. The pain.
"No," I whisper. My voice sounds broken. "No, no, no—"
I force my eyes open and immediately wish I hadn't.
The entire pack is staring at me. Hundreds of wolves, all on their knees, all looking terrified.
Of me.
That's impossible. I'm the weak one. The powerless omega they all pity or despise.
I push myself to sitting, and my hand touches something wet. Blood. My blood, pooled on the sacred ground beneath me.
"Aria." Kael's voice.
I look up, and there he is. The boy I've loved for ten years. The man who just destroyed me.
His dark eyes meet mine, and they're cold. So cold I don't recognize him.
"I, Kael Blackwood," he says again, louder this time, making sure everyone hears, "reject you, Aria Thorne, as my mate and future Luna."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Mate? My mind spins. We're mates?
I didn't know. I couldn't feel it because I don't have a wolf—
Except suddenly I can feel it.
A golden thread stretches between us, beautiful and shimmering, connecting my heart to his. I gasp because it's the most wonderful thing I've ever felt. This warm, perfect bond that says you're not alone, you're loved, you're chosen—
And it's BREAKING.
"No!" I scream, reaching for the thread even though I don't know how. "Kael, please—"
But the thread snaps.
Pain explodes in my chest.
It feels like someone reached inside me and ripped out my heart. Like every bone in my body is shattering. Like I'm being torn apart from the inside.
I can't breathe. Can't see. Can't do anything except scream.
Blood gushes from my nose, hot and copper-tasting. It pours from my ears. I clutch at my chest, trying to hold myself together, but I'm breaking apart—
I collapse.
The ground rushes up to meet me. My knees hit the sacred stones hard enough that I feel something crack, but it's nothing compared to the fire burning through my veins.
"The Crescent Moon Pack needs strength, not weakness."
Kael's voice sounds far away, like he's speaking from the other end of a tunnel. But I hear every word clearly. Each one is a new knife in my heart.
"I choose Lyanna Thorne as my true mate. She's everything a Luna should be."
Through the blood and tears blurring my vision, I see Lyanna. My stepsister stands beside Kael wearing that white dress, looking like an angel. But her smile is pure evil.
She won. She always wins.
"Poor little Aria," Lyanna says sweetly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you really think someone like Kael would want someone like you?"
The pack laughs. Some of them actually laugh while I'm dying on the ground.
I search the crowd desperately for my father. Alpha Marcus stands at the altar, watching his daughter bleed out in front of him.
He says nothing.
He doesn't move to help me. Doesn't order someone to take me to the pack hospital. Doesn't even look upset.
He just watches.
"Father," I gasp, reaching toward him with a shaking, bloody hand. "Please—"
"You've embarrassed this pack enough, Aria." His voice is ice-cold. "Accept the rejection with dignity."
Dignity? I'm dying.
"Aria!" Sage's voice cuts through the crowd. My best friend tries to run to me, but two pack warriors grab her arms, holding her back. "Let me go! She needs help!"
"Stay back," one warrior growls. "She's contaminated with rejection sickness."
That's not real. Rejection sickness isn't contagious. They're just using it as an excuse to leave me here to die.
My stepmother Celeste stands near the altar beside my father. She's smiling. Actually smiling as she watches me suffer.
"This is for the best," Celeste says softly, but I hear her clearly. "The pack needs a strong Luna. You were always too weak to survive."
Weak. I'm so tired of that word.
More blood pours from my nose. I can taste it in my mouth, feel it dripping down my chin. My vision goes dark around the edges.
I'm going to die here. In front of everyone. Rejected and alone.
Maybe they're right. Maybe I am too weak. Maybe I never should have—
No.
Something shifts inside me. Something deep and ancient and furious.
I'm not weak. I never was.
They're the ones who are wrong.
My blood drips onto the sacred ground, each drop glowing faintly silver as it hits the ancient stones.
The earth begins to tremble.
"What's happening?" someone shouts.
I don't know. I don't care. All I know is that something inside me is waking up. Something that's been sleeping my entire life, caged and suppressed and buried so deep I never knew it existed.
It wants out.
Let me out, a voice whispers in my mind. Not my voice. Something older. Stronger. Let me FREE.
My blood touches the earth one more time.
And power EXPLODES from my body.
A shockwave of pure silver light bursts outward from where I kneel. It knocks everyone backward—Kael stumbles, Lyanna falls, even my father is forced to take a step back.
The light fills the entire grove, so bright I have to close my eyes.
And my scent—oh god, my scent—erupts like a bomb going off.
Ancient pine forests. Snow on mountains. Something wild and powerful and utterly dominant.
One by one, every wolf in the pack drops to their knees.
They can't help it. Their wolves take over, forcing them down in automatic submission to something their instincts recognize as superior.
Even Kael kneels, his face twisted in shock and confusion.
Even Alpha Marcus, the strongest wolf in our pack, goes to his knees with his head bowed.
The only one still standing is Elder Moira, the ancient healer who's lived longer than anyone can remember. She pushes through the kneeling crowd, her wrinkled face filled with shock.
She kneels beside me, and her hands are shaking as she touches my face.
"Impossible," she whispers. "Your scent... child, what are you?"
"I don't... I don't know..." My voice sounds strange. Powerful.
Moira looks at my father. Her eyes are blazing with anger. "You FOOL. Do you know what you've done?"
"What are you talking about?" Marcus tries to stand but can't. His wolf won't let him.
"She carries the Original Bloodline," Moira says, and gasps ripple through the crowd. "The first werewolf lineage. The True Luna bloodline that's been extinct for a thousand years."
"That's ridiculous!" Kael shouts, still on his knees. "She doesn't even have a wolf!"
"She has no wolf because someone SEALED her!" Moira's voice cracks like thunder. She turns to Celeste, and her expression is murderous. "Blood magic. Dark sealing spells. Someone has been suppressing her power since she was a baby."
Every eye turns to my stepmother.
Celeste's face goes pale. "I... I don't know what you're talking about—"
"LIAR!" Moira roars.
But I'm not listening anymore. Because something else is happening.
The air changes. The forest goes silent. Even the wind stops.
And then I feel it.
Three bonds—not one, THREE—suddenly ignite in my chest where the broken bond used to be. Three golden threads, blazing like stars, stretching out across hundreds of miles to connect with three beings I've never met.
Three mates.
My vision blurs. The world spins.
Two hundred miles away, in the Forbidden Wildlands where nothing has lived for a thousand years, three ancient wolves wake from their endless sleep.
I don't know how I know this. But I do.
I can feel them waking. Feel their power. Feel their rage.
"They're coming," I whisper.
"Who's coming?" Sage asks, finally breaking free to reach me.
I look up at the full moon, and my eyes—my eyes are glowing silver.
"My mates."
The ground shakes. Trees at the edge of the grove begin to crack and splinter.
And then, with an explosion of wood and earth and power—
Four massive wolves burst through the tree line.
They're twice the size of normal wolves. Ancient. Terrifying. Beautiful.
The pack screams.
The four wolves shift to human form in perfect sync, and I see them clearly:
A man with silver eyes and battle scars covering his skin.
A man with black eyes and shadows literally clinging to him like living things.
A man with pale blue eyes that glow with an otherworldly light.
And a fourth man, scarred and deadly, who stands guard behind them.
The silver-eyed man's gaze sweeps across the grove until it lands on me.
His expression transforms from cold warrior to something fierce and possessive.
He crosses the clearing in three massive strides, and every wolf scrambles out of his way.
He kneels beside me, and his hand—so gentle despite his obvious strength—touches my bloody face.
"Who," he says, his voice deadly quiet, "did this to you?"