Valentina Barlow leaned back against the cold stone wall of her modest apartment, the sounds of the bustling city softening into a distant hum. New York was a never-ending symphony of noise, but she had grown used to it—thrived on it, even. The anonymity provided by the city's constant movement kept her hidden. For nine years, she had submerged herself in the human world, successfully avoiding her past life, the one tied to werewolves, mates, and rejection.

Her life before New York felt like a different lifetime. She was different, too—no longer the hopeful young girl whose heart was broken on her eighteenth birthday. She had become Valentina, the rogue who found solace among humans, a ghost of her former self hidden in plain sight.

Tonight, however, was different. A mandatory Gathering of the Eastern Packs had disrupted her cycle of normalcy. Through a distant grapevine, she had heard about it—a grand event where the Werewolf King was to announce his engagement to his chosen mate. The news would have meant little under normal circumstances, but for some reason, her instincts screamed otherwise.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, letting out a sigh. The familiar sting of rejection pricked at her heart, memories clawing their way to the surface. She could almost hear his voice, the Alpha of her old pack, as he coldly shattered her world.

"Valentina, you are not worthy of being my mate. You never will be."

The memory, even now, had the power to slice through her like a knife. But instead of the raw pain she once felt, there was a hardened resolve. She had survived without him, and she would continue to survive.

Still, the gathering weighed on her mind. The Werewolf King, Braiden, was known for his adherence to tradition and strength. He could have any she-wolf he desired. What would he be like? She forced herself to shake off the curiosity. It didn't matter. This was a world she had left behind, and she intended to keep it that way.

The shrill ring of her phone broke through her thoughts. She reached for it, her fingers brushing against the cracked screen. The contact name read "Lydia." Her only human friend who knew a fragment of her truth—enough to understand that some parts of Valentina’s past were better left untouched.

"Hey, Val!" Lydia chirped through the phone. "Are you coming to the bar tonight? It’s karaoke night!"

Valentina’s lips curved into a reluctant smile. Lydia’s energy was contagious, and instances like these were a reminder that she was not alone. "Sure, why not? I could use a distraction."

"Awesome! See you there!"

The call ended, and Valentina stood, stretching her limbs. Tonight, she would submerge herself in human activities, sing terrible karaoke, and remind herself of her new identity. She needed the distraction, needed to prove to herself that she had truly moved on.

---

The bar was already bustling by the time Valentina arrived. A collage of laughter, shouts, and off-tune singing greeted her. She spotted Lydia at a corner table, waving enthusiastically.

"Val! Over here!" Lydia called, her dark curls bouncing with each movement.

Valentina squeezed through the crowd, finally collapsing into the chair opposite Lydia. "Sorry, I'm late. Traffic was—"

"Brutal, I know. Welcome to New York," Lydia interrupted with a playful wink. "I'm glad you came. You need this."

Valentina nodded, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

As they chatted, their glasses filled with a rainbow of drinks, the cloak of normalcy began to slip back over her. Flirtations flew between various patrons, and excitement buzzed in the air—nothing unusual for a Friday night at this bar. But for Valentina, the sense of normalcy was a lifeline.

"I signed us up for a duet," Lydia announced, a twinkle in her eye.

Valentina groaned. "Lydia, you know I'm terrible at singing."

"That’s the point! It’s fun. Plus, I've heard you in the shower. You’re not half bad," Lydia teased, pulling her to the stage.

With reluctance turning into an odd sense of freedom, Valentina found herself belting out an old pop song with Lydia. Their voices melded into a mismatched harmony, but the applause that followed was infectious. For a brief moment, she felt like any other woman enjoying a night out, free from the chains of her past.

They returned to their seats, cheeks flushed and breathless. Valentina was about to take a sip from her drink when a ripple of energy pricked at her senses—a wave of power that was undeniably werewolf.

Her heart stilled. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on a dark figure standing near the edge of the bar—a man with an aura so intense, it sucked the warmth out of the room. He was staring directly at her, eyes glowing with a predatory gleam.

Panic surged through her veins. How had he found her? She had been so careful.

"Val, are you okay?" Lydia's concerned voice cut through her rising anxiety.

"I—I'm fine," Valentina lied, tearing her gaze away. "Just need some air."

She barely heard Lydia's reply as she hurried out of the bar, the cool night air hitting her like a wave. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to escape. She had built a life here, but it seemed destiny wouldn't let her forget her true nature.

A movement at the corner of her eye made her spin around. The man from the bar—no, the werewolf—stood before her. His eyes no longer glowed, but the intensity in them was unmistakable.

"You," he said, voice low and commanding. "You're coming with me."

Valentina's pulse thundered in her ears, but she forced herself to stand her ground. "I don't think so."

"Don't make this difficult. You're required at the Gathering," he insisted, stepping closer.

"I left that world behind," she replied, a mix of fear and defiance in her voice.

His eyes softened, just for a moment. "Valentina... This isn't a request. The Werewolf King himself has summoned you."

The words struck her like a physical blow. Why would the King summon her? She was a rogue, rejected and unwanted. What could he possibly want from her?

Still, the urgency and sincerity in the werewolf's eyes made her pause. There was no denying the pull of destiny, no matter how she tried to escape it.

"Fine," she relented. "But I'm not promising anything."

He nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. As he led her to a sleek black SUV parked nearby, Valentina's mind swirled with questions. What awaited her at the Gathering? And why did she, a rogue, matter to the Werewolf King?

---

The journey was silent, tension thick in the car's confined space. Valentina's mind raced through possibilities, each more daunting than the last. Yet, amid the sea of uncertainty, her curiosity grew. Why now? Why after all these years?

They arrived at a grand estate, its imposing structure stark against the night sky. She recognized it from her childhood stories—an ancestral home of royalty, where history was etched in every stone.

The werewolf led her through the grand halls, the opulence around her a stark contrast to her modest human life. Finally, they stopped before massive doors, intricately carved with ancient symbols.

He turned to her, his expression serious. "Wait here. Someone will fetch you soon."

Before she could respond, he disappeared into the depths of the estate. Valentina stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in a world to which she once belonged.

As she waited, her mind wandered to Braiden. Stories painted him as a formidable leader, fair but unyielding. Now, standing on the precipice of destiny, she couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the legend.

The doors swung open, and she was ushered into a grand hall by a stern-looking attendant. Her steps faltered as she took in the sight before her—a gathering of werewolves, their presence powerful and palpable.

At the far end of the room stood a throne, and upon it, the Werewolf King. Braiden. He was more imposing in person, his presence commanding the space with an effortless authority.

Their eyes met, and the world seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, time suspended, bridging the years and the pain. Braiden's gaze flickered with a myriad of emotions—recognition, confusion, and something else she couldn't place.

The crowd parted as she made her way towards him, her heartbeat echoing in the grand hall. The air buzzed with anticipation, whispers skirting on the edge of her hearing.

As she reached the throne, Braiden rose, his gaze never leaving hers. His voice, when he spoke, was low but resonated with authority. "Valentina Barlow, welcome."

She swallowed hard, finding her voice. "Why have you summoned me?"

Braiden took a step closer, the space between them charged with unspoken words. "Because you're my mate."

The declaration hung in the air, a spark that could ignite a hundred flames. Valentina's knees felt weak, her mind reeling from the unexpected revelation. This was not the path she envisioned for herself, but fate had its way of weaving its intricate designs.

In Braiden's eyes, she saw a mirror of her own turmoil—a struggle between duty and desire. And deep down, a glimmer of hope. He reached out, his hand gentle but firm as it clasped hers. "We have much to discuss, Valentina. Our fates are intertwined."

As the grand hall buzzed with the murmur of the assembled pack, Valentina realized that her past and present had collided in a way she never anticipated. The journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and secrets, but one thing was clear—her life would never be the same again.