The Evergreen Hall hummed with anxiety.
Stone walls that once repeated only the stomp of boots and howls of command now hummed with whispers—whispers about their Alpha. About the she-wolf with green eyes. About betrayal.
Jude sat on the raised dais, face cut from steel. Shadows moved across his face, cast by the shifting fire. His troops stood in a semicircle, arms crossed, jaws tight.
Elias, his Beta, stepped forward.
"You didn't deny the bond, Jude."
Silence.
"You didn't reject her. You didn't push her away. You let her come back," Elias continued, eyes sharp.
"She's my mate."
The words fell like thunder. No apology. No reason.
Just the truth.
A low growl ran through the crowd.
"You jeopardize the pack for a female who does not belong here," another fighter growled. "She is not Evergreen. She is the daughter of our enemy."
"She saved my life during the rogue attack," Jude said. "She bled beside me."
"She weakens you."
"No." His voice was grit and fire. "She makes me want to be stronger."
Gasps. Another murmur.
"Then claim her," Elias snapped. "Mark her. Make it known. Let the pack see your spine."
"I can't," Jude said, voice suddenly softer.
And that truth hurt more than the first.
"Then you shouldn't lead us," Elias answered.
The charge didn't hit like a blow. It cut like cold steel between the ribs.
Jude rose. Slowly. Deliberately. "I would rather lose my title than pretend she means nothing."
Another silence—deep, frozen.
But no one moved against him.
Not yet.
They weren't ready for a fight.
But war was coming.
Across the forest, in the heavy gloom of the Silvermane war room, Alpha Magnus Kingstone slammed a glass against the table.
"She's obsessed," he barked. "And now, Jude's pack is turning on him for it. This ends before she's pulled into his fall."
Across from him, a tall man with storm-grey eyes and a goofy smile leaned back in his chair. His fur cape wrapped around his shoulders like a crown.
Alpha Renik of the Hollow Peak Pack. Ruthless. Cunning.
And dangerous.
"You asked for help," Renik said, sipping wine like it was blood. "I offer it."
"You said you know a way."
"To erase a bond, yes. But it will cost you."
Magnus's jaw flexed. "Name it."
"Your daughter," Renik answered, voice a whisper of silk. "For my son. Once the bond is broken, she'll marry him. Cement the alliance."
Magnus stared, pulse ticking in his jaw.
"You're insane if you think she'll agree."
"She won't need to," Renik said, rising. "Not after the severing."
Magnus inhaled through his nose, anger twisting his gut. But he didn't say no.
Because the tie was killing her. Jude would drag her down.
This was the only way to free her.
Even if it meant cutting out her soul.
High in the sky, wrapped in shadows and silence, Gareth watched her.
Natasha stood in the clearing, sweat shining on her skin, her limbs moving with smooth purpose as she sparred against a wooden training dummy. Her hits were fierce, unrelenting—but her eyes were haunted.
She moved like a she-wolf at war with herself.
And Gareth understood war.
He leaned forward, green eyes sparkling beneath his dark hood. His smell was hidden. His breath was even.
He'd been watching her for days.
At first, out of interest.
Now?
Curiosity had turned into something sharper. Something deeper.
She was light, yes—but her soul was broken. And broken things? Gareth collected them.
She didn't know him yet.
But she would.
And when Jude inevitably failed her—when the packs broke and she stood in the ashes—he would be there.
To pick up the pieces.
To offer her truth instead of pain.
To claim what Jude had been too much of a coward to keep.
The wind moved.
Natasha froze mid-strike, chest heaving.
She knew that smell. Knew it in her bones.
Rain and ash.
Jude stepped into the open, shirtless, sweat shining on his chest, muscles taut with stress. His eyes were pitch-black.
"Fight me," he growled.
Her breath caught. "What?"
He stalked closer. "Fight. Me."
She backed up, reflexes blazing. "Why?"
"Because I can't touch you the way I want to." His voice cracked like lightning. "So let me bleed instead."
"Jude—"
But he lunged.
She stopped the first hit with her elbow, turning on bare feet. Her body responded before her brain could. They moved like magnets and rage, flesh and fire.
She swung low. He dodged, spun, caught her wrist, and turned her around.
She gasped, breath rushing out of her as her back hit the ground.
But he didn't let her fall.
His arms caught her mid-air, resting her against his chest. His heartbeat slammed against her ribs, wild and feral.
"You let me win," she said, gasping.
"No," he breathed. "You undid me."
She blinked up at him, hair twisted across her face.
His hand brushed it back.
"Every time you're near me, I forget how to lead. How to lie. How to fight anything except the need to keep you."
She shook beneath his touch.
But still—he didn't kiss her.
Didn't mark her.
Didn't claim her.
So she rose.
And walked away.
Again.