Ava lingered on the edge of the forest, where the human world bled into werewolf territory, her breath caught between the past and present. Her entire body seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the forest, memories threatening to drown her resolve. Nine years had washed over her like cold, relentless waves—each one a gap between her and the life she once knew.

The distant howl of wolves echoed through the dense thickets of towering pine, stirring the beast within her. Ava clenched her hands into fists, her sharp nails biting into her palms, reminding her of the night her fate had been sealed. Rejected.

It took every ounce of willpower to step forward. She hadn’t returned for herself, after all, but because she had no choice. The Gathering of the Eastern Packs had been called, and as a rogue with a direct invitation, she could not shun this unwelcome summons.

The path before her wound deeper into the forest—the precise route she’d trodden so many times while dreaming of the full moon nights and freedom. Yet it felt foreign now, like walking into an ancient myth rather than returning home. Forcing her feet one after the other, she let the shadows of night cloak her approach.

The Gathering site loomed ahead, aglow with the warm, flickering light of campfires. Tents were interspersed among them, and the chatter of wolves—both in human and wolf form—created a constant hum. Ava concealed herself among the shadows, scanning the faces and scents that hit her with the force of recognition. None of them moved her except one by the central fire—her former mate, Marcus.

He hadn’t changed. Tall, commanding, he stood as the embodiment of the Alpha his father once was. To observe him now with the brittle lens of a rogue brought a bitter taste to her mouth. She had expunged the poison of his rejection, but residue could never fully dissipate.

“Indeed, you’ve returned,” a low voice murmured beside her. Ava’s heart flung itself against her chest, startled. She turned to find the source: an old woman, wrinkled yet possessing an air of ancient wisdom—Thea, a seer.

“What,” Ava managed to say, her voice hoarse from disuse, “are you doing here?”

Thea’s lips curved. “The question, child, is why you have come.”

Ava braced herself, lifting her chin. “I received a summons. My motives matter little.”

Thea stepped closer, her eyes piercing through the veils of existence. “Do not be foolish. Something greater pulls at you—more than mere compulsion. An ancient force stirs.”

Braiden, the Werewolf King, stood at the pillar, watching the packs gather below his stronghold. The engagement announcement was supposed to be a formality, yet unease gnawed at him. Emily, his chosen mate, stood at his side; meticulously bred for her role, she exuded perfection. Yet, his heart felt no excitement, only a dull resignation.

As the formalities began, Braiden’s senses sharpened. His wolf stirred, pacing within him, as though anticipating something monumental. He scanned the gathering below, and that’s when he saw her.

She stood at the periphery, her presence almost spectral. Her aura commanded attention, yet there was an ethereal gentleness about her. He sniffed the air, and his body froze. The scent—the unmistakable, tantalizing pull of a mate—pervaded his senses. Yet, it was like no scent he had ever encountered. Pure, powerful, intoxicating.

A white wolf.

His human instincts warred with the territorial growl of his wolf. How? Why? Ava—the rogue no one expected—was his true mate.

Ava stood stiff as the announcement droned on. Her detachment shattered when her eyes met Braiden’s, the searing intensity making her breathless. There, under the open moonlit sky, time seemed to loop into an eternity that connected them irrevocably.

Braiden’s gaze held hers. Everything changed. The world around them faded into insignificance. His voice, when it echoed through the assembly, resonated with a command that shook her soul. “Stop.”

All attention swung toward the king.

Braiden descended with deliberate grace, his eyes never leaving Ava’s. Emily’s confusion was palpable, but he paid her no mind.

Her heartbeat synced with his footsteps, a frantic drumbeat that heralded the unknown. When he came to a halt before her, the silence was unbearable.

“What is your name?” he asked, though she recognized the authoritative tilt of his head. He knew.

“Ava,” she whispered, every skin cell alive with electrifying energy.

“Ava,” he echoed, as if tasting each syllable. “You are my mate.”

She gasped, stiffening at the claim. “I—Is this some cruel jest, Your Majesty?”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of danger within them. “This is no jest. The Moon Goddess herself has intervened.”

Behind them, the murmurs grew louder. Emily’s indignation was a force into itself, her façade of decorum cracking. Marcus, seeing the interaction, pushed through the crowds, a tumult of memories clouding his face.

“This rogue—” Marcus began, his voice raising in anger, but Braiden’s growl silenced him.

“Do not speak out of turn, Alpha Marcus,” Braiden warned. His eyes flashed with fierce protectiveness toward Ava. “She is mine.”

Ava’s mind whirled. Nine years of solitude had not prepared her for such a disruption. Her fingers trembled as they fought the desire to reach out and touch him—to confirm this was not some fever-dream.

“What happens now?” she murmured, secretly fearing the answer.

Braiden’s grip tightened around her wrist, his touch sealing her fate. “You return with me. To the palace—a new chapter begins, where you shall learn the truth about us both.”

His promise was both thrilling and terrifying, the magnitude of which Ava could hardly grasp. Secrets loomed, waiting to be unveiled. Their shared journey would demand more courage than she had ever summoned.