The forest was unnervingly still.
Ember moved quietly through the narrow deer trail that cut deep into the heart of the Thornewood, where the trees were older, the air thicker, and the moonlight struggled to pierce the heavy canopy. Her senses were heightened more so than ever before since the Midnight Trial. The fire inside her didn't sleep anymore. It pulsed in her veins like a second heartbeat, alert, coiled, waiting.
But tonight, something else burned. Not just the fire of her gift but the sting of betrayal.
Because someone had claimed her again.
A name had been whispered at the edge of every pack she passed on patrol this week. Not Kael's. Not Ronan's. Not even a friend's.
Another name.
A stranger's.
An Alpha.
One who invoked the law of the ancient rite the Calling of the Claim, a loophole buried deep in werewolf tradition that allowed an alpha from a recognized bloodline to declare a mate if certain omens aligned. And somehow, impossibly, they had aligned for her.
Her bond to Ronan still glowed within her like a tether made of starlight and flame. It was real. It was sacred.
So how the hell could another claim her?
She was determined to find answers before Ronan found the other male. Because if her mate saw this Alpha first…
There wouldn't be a second meeting.
Up ahead, a shimmer of warding magic hung in the air subtle but ancient. Her hand brushed it, and it rippled like water. She stepped through.
A campfire flickered in the clearing. Alone. Silent. Waiting.
He was already there.
The Alpha.
He stood with his back to her, tall, broad-shouldered, arms folded. The wind shifted, and she caught his scent.
Ash and cold iron.
Ember's voice was sharp. "Turn around."
He did.
And everything was still.
His face was carved from shadow and sharpness, pale eyes, wild dark hair, a scar down his jaw like a crescent moon torn sideways. But what struck her wasn't his appearance, it was what she felt the moment their eyes met.
The tug.
A pull that mirrored what she had with Ronan.
But different.
Wrong.
Off.
"You feel it," he said simply.
"I don't want to," Ember snapped, stepping into the firelight. "You invoked the Claim. You forced this."
His expression didn't shift. "I only followed the signs. I didn't force the bond."
"You're lying. I already have a mate."
He nodded once. "And yet the mark appeared on my palm. The dreams started three moons ago. My wolf howls only for you."
Ember clenched her fists. "This is a mistake."
"No," he said, stepping closer. "This is a prophecy."
She held up a hand. Flames licked her fingers. "Take another step and you'll see how much I care for prophecy."
He stopped, but there was no fear in him.
"I'm not here to steal you from your mate," he said quietly. "I'm here because the moon is changing. The flame in your blood your child will carry it. But the bond to me is not one of love. It's one of balance."
She blinked. "What?"
"The flame cannot exist without the void," he murmured. "And I am the void, Ember. I am what tempers your fire, what shields the world from what you could become."
Her chest tightened. "You're saying I need two bonds?"
He didn't answer, but the look in his eyes was enough to answer enough.
She stepped back. "No. That's not how this works. I chose my mate. The moon doesn't choose me."
"I thought the same," he replied softly. "Until the mark appeared on my chest. Until I dreamed of your fire destroying the world."
Ember's hand trembled.
The mate mark.
He slowly lifted his shirt, and her breath caught.
It was there.
Not Ronan's mark but something older. A symbol etched in flame and frost. And it glowed in time with her heartbeat.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He dropped his shirt.
"My name is Malric. Alpha of the Hollow Moon pack. Descendant of the ancient ones. And the mate you didn't choose."
Silence settled between them like a blade.
Then she turned on her heel and walked away.
She didn't look back.
She couldn't.
Back in the pack compound, Ronan waited by the edge of the training yard, shirtless, knuckles bloodied. He'd been sparring no, fighting for hours, judging by the splintered training post. His wolf was close to the surface. His eyes flashed gold when he saw her.
"You saw him," he said.
Ember gave a tight nod.
"He touched you?"
"No."
"Do you feel the bond?"
"Yes."
Ronan looked away, jaw ticking. "Then say it. Tell me it's not real. That it's nothing."
She walked to him, placed a hand over his heart. "It's not the same. What we have it's deeper. It's chosen. I love you, Ronan. This… this thing with Malric it's not love. It's something else."
"He claimed you."
"Through tradition. Not through my will."
His hands came to her waist. "And if the bond grows? If it starts affecting you? Hurting you?"
"I won't let it," she whispered.
But they both knew that wasn't how bond magic worked.
He pulled her into him, forehead pressed against hers. "If he comes near you again"
"I won't let him claim me," she said fiercely. "You're my mate."
Still, something cold slithered beneath her skin.
Because the bond with Malric was there.
Dormant.
But pulsing.
Waiting.
And if the prophecy was right… if her child needed both fire and void to survive the coming darkness…
Then Ember feared the truth more than any enemy.
She may not want Malric.
But destiny might not care what she wanted.
—–––
Can a wolf survive a second mate bond without breaking the first? And if the moon has chosen both, what must Ember sacrifice to protect the future growing inside her?