Ava’s fingers grazed the edge of her breakfast table, the wooden surface cool under her touch. She sat cradling a mug of steaming coffee, the aroma wafting up and mingling with the gentle morning light filtering through the window. Nine years. Nine uneventful years had passed since she had walked away from everything she'd once known. Rogue — it had sounded like a dirty word back then, but now, it was simply her reality.

She stirred the dark liquid absentmindedly, the swirling coffee reflecting the chaos she felt inside. She had become masterful at blending in with the human world, concealing every part of her werewolf identity. It became her shield, her solace. Her calm.

Next to her phone, the letter sat like an ominous storm cloud on a clear day. The border of the paper bore the royal seal, the gold embossed wolf snarling as if accusing her of a crime she didn't commit. She didn't need to open it — she knew its contents already: a mandatory summons to the Gathering of the Eastern Packs.

A part of her wanted to toss it away, pretend it never arrived. She sighed, feeling the memory of rejection burn through her again. August 31st, nine years ago. Her 18th birthday. Kade, her then-mate and now Alpha of their old pack, had chosen another in front of the entire pack. The ceremony that was supposed to unite them had only served to destroy her, every whispered conversation and penetrating gaze still vivid in her memory.

The ringing of her cellphone pulled her from the painful recollection. Caller ID: Sarah. Ava hesitated before picking up.

“Hey, Sarah.”

“Morning, Ava! Have you checked your mail today?” Sarah’s voice, chipper as always, cut through the static of Ava's thoughts. She could almost hear the smile in her voice.

Ava glanced at the infamous letter. "Yeah, I did. More junk mail, you know."

“Well, I was thinking, how about we go shopping today? I need a new dress for that gala next week and I could use your impeccable taste.”

Ava managed a weak smile. Sarah was oblivious to the storm brewing in Ava's heart. “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Great! Pick you up at noon?”

“Perfect.”

As Ava hung up, she felt a mix of relief and guilt. The letter burned in her mind. She knew she couldn’t escape the inevitable forever. Taking a deep breath, she unfolded the creamy paper.

“By decree of the Royal Family, all rogues are required to attend the Gathering of the Eastern Packs,” it read, “Due to the special announcement of the Werewolf King, Braiden. Attendance is mandatory, no exceptions.”

There it was: a command she couldn't refuse. Gathering her resolve, Ava stood. The humans had given her nine years of respite, but it seemed fate had other plans. She needed to prepare. Not just for the gathering, but for the inevitable reopening of old wounds.

The bustling streets of the small town were alive with the chatter of people and the sound of garden sprinklers swaying rhythmically in the late summer’s warmth. Ava walked beside Sarah, their conversation light but her mind far from it. Every step she took felt like one closer to a fading memory she wished to keep buried.

“Oh, this one is lovely!” Sarah exclaimed, holding up a coral-colored sundress. “Try it on.”

Ava hovered near the dressing room, allowing Sarah’s zeal for shopping to drown out the ceaseless recollections invading her mind. Draping the dress over her arm, she stepped into the changing room, shutting the door behind her. Hanging the dress on the hook, she gazed at her reflection.

“A wayward soul,” she muttered to herself, brushing her wavy, chestnut hair out of her face. Her eyes, a vibrant hazel, stared back at her, haunted by the ghosts of her past. The reflection silently questioned her resolve, and she tore her gaze away.

Slipping into the coral dress, Ava was drawn momentarily out of her despondence by the flattering fit of the fabric against her curves. She emerged to find Sarah beaming, clapping her hands together.

“It’s perfect! You look stunning.”

Ava managed a genuine smile, “You think so?”

“Absolutely. You have to get it. Imagine wearing this to a reunion. Heads will turn.”

Reunion. The word bore too many connotations now. She looked at herself in the mirror, imagining turning heads, but for the wrong reasons. Still, knowing it would make Sarah happy, she nodded.

“Okay, I’ll take it.”

They wandered further through the shops, sharing casual chatter. Ava tried to remain engaged, but a gnawing thought kept her anchored in the past. What would the Gathering be like? Would Kade be there? The mere idea made her skin prickle.

The day blurred by, filled with laughter and camaraderie that Ava clung to like a lifeline. It wasn't until she stood alone again in her apartment that the weight of the letter felt crushing once more.

As days turned into weeks, Ava prepared for her forced return to werewolf society. With a plane ticket booked and the enigmatic coral dress packed, she found herself at the cusp of the unknown.

“Just get through it, Ava,” she whispered to herself, standing at the edge of the airport parking lot, feeling the cool breeze off the tarmac. Taking a deep breath, she moved forward, one resolute step at a time.

The flight was a haze of recycled air and inflight meal trays, grounding her in the reality she had long avoided. Landing felt surreal, almost as if she were returning to a place she had only dreamed about.

The venue for the Gathering was a grand lodge nestled deep in the heart of the forest, a stark contrast to the urban human world she had become accustomed to. As the car pulled into the gravel driveway, her heart raced. Wolves. Everywhere. The atmosphere was dense, the air crackled with suppressed energy. She could almost taste the dominance in the air.

As she stepped out, her surroundings blurred for a moment, before snapping back into sharp focus. Wolves of all shapes and sizes, alphas and their packs, mingled around her. The murmurs of conversations filled her ears. Her instincts screamed to turn and run, but her feet remained rooted.

Drawing on every ounce of courage, she walked towards the grand entrance. A large banner hung above, declaring the event that had drawn her out from the shadows: “Welcome to the Gathering of the Eastern Packs – Celebrate the Royal Announcement.”

With every step, she felt the weight of unfamiliar eyes, noses twitching, curiosity and recognition brewing in their gazes. As Ava walked through the grand halls, adorned with tapestries and wolf motifs, she made her way to the central ballroom where the ceremony was to be held.

She scanned the room for a familiar face but found none. Just as she was about to seek a quiet corner, an intoxicating scent washed over her, scorching her senses. Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew. She felt him before she saw him. King Braiden.

For a moment, the crowd seemed to disappear, the noise to fade, as their eyes locked. His piercing silver gaze was as bewildered as hers. It was as if time itself bowed to the connection sparking between them. Her senses went into overdrive, recognizing him, not just as any alpha, but as her mate.

A murmur of hushed tones spread through the ballroom as the realization seemed to dawn on others too. The only black wolf stood not far away, commanding attention effortlessly, but his eyes never left hers.

“Impossible,” Ava whispered, the word a ghost against her lips. King Braiden, the most powerful werewolf, the ruler of them all, was her mate.

Just as she was piecing together the gravity of this revelation, another scent hit her—bitter, familiar. Her eyes flickered from Braiden to Kade, standing not far off, his expression an unreadable mask. The man who had once torn her heart apart now stood amidst the chaos of new beginnings.

In that moment, the magnitude of it all crashed over her. Not only was she drawn into a world she had left behind, but she was now bound to its very epicenter. Questions surged through her like a storm, the certainty of her past colliding with the possibilities of her future.

But before she could process everything, Braiden started walking toward her, his presence electric, potent. She braced herself as he approached. Every fiber of her being urged her to stand firm, even as her heart hammered against her ribcage.

“Who are you?” The power in his voice was undeniable, an undertone of demand mixed with a flicker of awe.

“Ava,” she replied, steadying her voice. “Ava Morgan.”

“The white wolf,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, and yet it hit her with the force of a storm.

Drawn into staring at him, she found herself engulfed in silver eyes that held layers of mysteries. His gaze spoke of a depth she couldn't fathom yet, shadows of burdens she hadn't begun to understand. But for now, the question remained: why had fate entwined her destiny so irresistibly with his?

The ballroom's ambient noise returned, as Braiden’s chosen mate, a woman groomed to perfection, watched from the sidelines, her face a mask of shock and anger.

Ava’s heart ached with uncertainty. She had hoped for a life of calm seclusion, but Fate had other plans. There was no escaping the gathering tension, no evading the powerful connection pulling her relentlessly towards King Braiden.

Their story had just begun, tangled in secrets, strife, and unfulfilled desires. Ava could feel it in her bones. This journey, set ablaze by a singular, undeniable spark, had only scratched the surface of its depths. And the true trials were just beginning to unfold.