Bound by the Alpha's Moonheart

Volume One: The Blood Moon Marriage

Chapter One: The White Wolf in the Storm

The storm came down just after dusk.

One moment the north ridge had been nothing but a dark blue line beyond the windows of the rescue station. The next, clouds rolled over the peaks like iron gates slamming shut, and snow began to strike the glass in hard white bursts. Wind tore through the pines. The whole mountain seemed to bend beneath it.

Anastasia Steele bent over the treatment table and finished wrapping a strip of gauze around a snow fox's hind leg.

"Almost done," she murmured. "Don't bite me now. We are becoming friends."

The fox, who had tried to bite every other volunteer in the station, watched her with bright black eyes and stayed still.

Marta, the night coordinator, leaned against the doorframe with a mug of coffee warming both hands. "I swear you talk to them and they understand you."

"They understand pain," Anastasia said. "That's different."

"Still counts." Marta glanced at the weather monitor. "Storm warning just went red. Nobody goes outside tonight. Patrol saw blood up near the northwest slope, maybe a wolf, maybe something bigger, but they lost the signal. We can check after sunrise."

Anastasia's fingers paused on the knot of the bandage.

Northwest slope.

A memory came back so sharply that for a second she smelled blood under the snow again. She had been twelve then, newly adopted, still afraid to call Lucien father. She had wandered too far beyond the marked path and found a white wolf under the cedars, one leg torn open, its red eyes burning through the snow. She should have run. Instead she had torn her scarf in half and wrapped its wound.

The wolf had stared at her as if it knew her.

Then it had disappeared before Lucien found her.

Lucien had been pale with fear when she told him. Never go that far into the ridge again, he had said. Not everything in these mountains is meant for humans.

The radio on the wall cracked with static.

"Northwest slope... large white animal... injured... movement in the trees..."

Then nothing.

Marta cursed under her breath and reached for the radio. Anastasia was already pulling on her heavy coat.

"No," Marta said. "Absolutely not."

"If it's hurt, it won't last until morning."

"If you go out in this, neither will you."

Anastasia grabbed the emergency kit. "I'll stay on the line."

Marta blocked the door. "Ana."

But Anastasia was already looking past her, toward the storm-dark glass, as if something on the ridge had called her by name.

The cold hit like a blade.

Snow swallowed the beam of her headlamp. Her boots sank deep, and every step dragged at her knees. Twice she nearly turned back. Twice the thought of a wounded animal bleeding alone in the dark pushed her forward.

She found the first drops of blood beside a half-buried rock.

They were bright against the snow, and still warm.

She followed the trail through a stand of black pine until the beam of her headlamp caught a shape lying in the drift.

A white wolf.

Not a normal wolf. It was enormous, larger than anything she had seen outside a nightmare or a myth, its fur silver-white beneath the snow. Blood darkened its side. Near the wound, tiny metallic shards glittered, and the flesh around them had burned blue-black.

The wolf opened its eyes.

Red.

The same red as the wolf from ten years ago.

Anastasia forgot how to breathe.

"It's you," she whispered.

The wolf bared its teeth. Not a threat, exactly. A warning. Stay back.

She crouched anyway, slowly placing the kit on the ground. "I know. I am not supposed to be here. But you are bleeding out, and I am too stubborn to leave you."

The wolf's gaze sharpened.

Anastasia pulled out forceps and antiseptic. "This will hurt. Try not to rip my arm off."

The first shard came free with a hiss of burned flesh. The wolf's growl shook the snow from nearby branches, but it did not strike her. The second shard was deeper. By the time she removed it, sweat had gathered under her collar despite the cold.

A howl rose from the trees.

Not clean. Not wild. Broken.

The white wolf lifted its head.

Shapes moved between the pines. Lean black bodies. Twisted limbs. Greenish eyes. Their mouths hung open, strings of saliva freezing against their jaws.

Anastasia had never seen them before, yet the word surfaced in her mind with terrifying certainty.

Rogues.

One lunged.

She fell backward, the kit spilling into the snow. A blur of white passed over her. The wounded wolf hit the Rogue in midair and drove it into a tree with a crack that made Anastasia flinch. More shadows circled. The white wolf stood between her and them, blood dripping steadily into the snow.

"You can't fight like this," she said, scrambling to her feet.

The sky above the ridge changed.

The moon rose through the clouds, red as a wound.

The storm quieted around it. Snowflakes hung in the air like ash. The wolf turned its face toward the Blood Moon, and its entire body shuddered.

Anastasia felt heat coil around her wrist.

A red thread appeared in the air, thin as silk, pulsing with light. It wound from the wolf toward her, wrapping around her skin before sinking beneath it.

She gasped.

The white wolf convulsed. Bones shifted under fur. Light swallowed its body. Anastasia stumbled back, half blinded by snow and moonlight, until the shape before her was no longer a wolf.

A man knelt in the snow.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, bare to the waist despite the cold, his side marked by the wound she had treated. Snow melted on his skin. His hair was pale silver, damp against his forehead. When he lifted his face, his eyes were still wolf-red.

He looked at her as if the world had narrowed to a single impossible fact.

"You," he said.

His voice was rough, low, and threaded with pain.

Anastasia backed against the rock. "What are you?"

"Cole Winston." He rose slowly, as if every movement cost him. "Alpha of the Veinmoon Pack."

Alpha.

The word should have meant nothing to her. It struck her body like a command.

The red thread between them flared.

Cole looked at it, then at her. Something almost like fear crossed his face.

"Mate Bond," he said.

"No." Anastasia shook her head. "No, I don't know what that means."

"It means you should run." His hands curled at his sides. "The Blood Moon makes the bond stronger. I am injured, and I am not... safe."

He took a step back from her.

That, more than his fangs or red eyes, frightened her.

He was trying to protect her from himself.

The Rogues crept forward again. Cole turned his head, and the air changed. Power poured from him in a silent wave, heavy enough to press against Anastasia's lungs.

"Leave," he said.

The Rogues fled.

Silence fell.

Cole swayed.

Anastasia caught him before he hit the ground. His skin burned against her palms.

"You need help."

"I told you to run."

"I am terrible at following orders."

His eyes darkened. The red thread pulled tight, dragging a shiver through her. For one wild second she felt his heartbeat in her own chest.

Cole lifted a trembling hand to her cheek. "Anastasia."

She froze. "How do you know my name?"

"Ten years ago. Cedar Hollow." His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw. "You saved a white wolf and tied your scarf around his leg. I never forgot your name."

The memory opened between them like a door.

Her twelve-year-old hands. His blood on her scarf. Those red eyes looking back at her from the trees.

"That was you," she whispered.

The Blood Moon burned above them. The bond tightened. Fear and attraction folded together until she could no longer tell which was which.

Cole leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. "If you push me away now, I will stop."

She should have pushed him.

Instead she thought of the wounded wolf that had remembered her for ten years.

She thought of his body shaking with the effort not to take what the bond demanded.

And she did not move away.

When he kissed her, the storm vanished.

There was only heat under the snow, his arms around her, and the red thread burning through the dark as if the moon itself had tied them together.

By morning, the storm had passed.

Anastasia woke in the small timber cabin behind the rescue station, wrapped in a black coat that was not hers. The fire had burned down to embers. Her body ached in unfamiliar places, and the room smelled faintly of pine, snow, and Cole.

He was gone.

On the table lay a pendant shaped like a wolf's head. Its eyes were dark red stones, almost the exact color of the Blood Moon.

Beneath it was a note.

Take this and come to me. It will protect you.

C.

Anastasia closed her fingers around the pendant.

Her phone rang.

The hospital.

She answered with a sudden dread she did not understand.

"Miss Steele?" the doctor said. "Your father has taken a turn. Lucien's silver poisoning is spreading into his wolf spirit. Conventional treatment is no longer working."

Her blood went cold.

"What does he need?"

A pause.

"Moonheart Serum. Without it, he may not survive the night."

Anastasia looked down at the wolf pendant in her hand.

Cole Winston had told her to come to him.

Now she had no choice.

Chapter Two: Veinmoon Castle

Veinmoon Castle stood where the mountain forest grew thickest, its black stone towers rising out of the snow like the ribs of some ancient beast.

Anastasia nearly turned the car around when she first saw it.

The gate alone looked older than the town at the foot of the ridge. Two enormous stone wolves guarded it, their ruby eyes fixed on the road. Beyond them, the castle walls curved into the trees, half hidden by mist and pine. It did not feel like a house. It felt like a territory.

Lucien's voice echoed in her memory.

Never go near a Pack's heartland. Especially not Veinmoon.

But Lucien was dying in a hospital bed, and the only medicine that might save him belonged to this place.

Anastasia got out of the car with the pendant clenched in her fist.

Two guards stepped forward at once. Both wore black coats and the same silver wolf insignia at the collar. Their eyes dropped to the pendant, and whatever they had been about to say died on their tongues.

One bowed his head.

"Miss Steele. Please wait."

She had not told them her name.

A moment later a blond man in a dark suit came down the steps. He looked younger than the castle, older than his face, and far too calm.

"Miss Steele," he said. "I'm Ethan, Alpha Cole's second. He said you might come."

The words made her pulse jump.

He said you might come.

As if last night had not been a storm-driven impossibility. As if he had expected her to walk into his world carrying his pendant.

"I need to see him," she said.

Ethan's gaze flicked over her face. If he noticed how little she had slept, he did not mention it. "This way."

Inside, the castle smelled of old stone, cedar smoke, and something metallic underneath. Portraits lined the corridor. Men and women with red eyes stared down from black frames, each one more severe than the last. Anastasia felt their judgment on her skin.

At the end of the hall, a scream split the air.

She stopped.

Ethan's face tightened. "Miss Steele, please wait here."

But the scream came again, raw and desperate, from a chamber whose door stood half open. Anastasia stepped closer before caution caught up with her.

The room beyond looked like a courtroom built for wolves.

A man knelt on the floor, wrists bound in silver chains that burned black marks into his skin. Blood ran down his temple. Around him stood Veinmoon guards.

And at the far end of the room sat Cole.

He wore a black shirt buttoned to the throat. His hair was dry now, his expression carved from ice. There was no trace of the man who had trembled beneath the Blood Moon, no softness, no heat. He looked every inch the Alpha he had claimed to be.

The bound man lifted his head. "Please. My brother was dying. They won't give serum to Rogues. I only took one vial."

Cole's red eyes lowered.

"Moonheart Serum belongs to Veinmoon," he said. "Anyone who steals forbidden medicine from this Pack steals from the lives under my protection."

"Alpha, please--"

"A thief who breaks into the serum vault is not a desperate man," Cole said. "He is a traitor."

The word struck Anastasia like a blow.

Traitor.

The guards dragged the man away. His pleas faded down the stone corridor.

Anastasia stepped back.

Cole's head turned.

For one second, the cold mask cracked.

Surprise. Relief. Something almost like longing.

"Anastasia."

He rose and came toward her with a speed that made Ethan shift aside. The moment he reached her, the hidden red thread under her skin stirred. She hated that her body recognized him before her mind could decide what to do.

His gaze dropped to the pendant in her hand.

"You came."

She had rehearsed the words all the way up the mountain.

My father needs Moonheart Serum. Please help him. He is Rogue, but he is not dangerous. He saved me when no one else did.

But the trial chamber was still behind him. The word traitor still rang in the air.

If Cole learned Lucien was Rogue, would he drag him in chains before this room? If he learned Lucien was a Steele, one of the family Veinmoon had cast out, would Moonheart Serum save him or mark him for execution?

"I wanted to know what you are," she said instead.

Cole's expression changed.

"And?"

"I still don't."

His mouth tightened, but he did not look away. "Then stay."

"Stay?"

"Long enough to understand."

It should have sounded like an invitation. Coming from him, it sounded like a command.

Ethan cleared his throat from behind them. "Alpha, the vault inventory is still waiting. Lord Aldric has asked for a report."

A muscle jumped in Cole's jaw.

Anastasia noticed it.

Aldric.

The name made even Cole's power sharpen.

"Tell them to wait," Cole said.

"He asked twice."

Cole looked back at Anastasia. For a moment she thought he would refuse the summons. Instead he said, "Ethan will take you to a guest room. Do not leave the east wing."

There it was again. An order.

"I am not your prisoner."

His gaze flicked to the pendant, then to her face. "Not yet."

The words chilled her.

He turned and walked away.

Ethan led her to a room overlooking the inner courtyard. It was beautiful, almost painfully so: white bedding, dark carved furniture, a fire already lit. It felt less like hospitality and more like a velvet box.

Anastasia waited until Ethan left.

Then she went to the window.

Across the courtyard stood a separate wing of black stone. Four guards stood at the entrance. Moon symbols had been carved into the door, and the pendant warmed against her palm when she looked at it.

The serum vault.

She knew it before any servant confirmed it.

Her phone buzzed with a message from the hospital.

Lucien's fever is rising. We are losing time.

Anastasia's vision blurred.

She could not trust Cole.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But the pendant had opened a gate for her. It might open one more door.

She waited until the corridor outside grew quiet. Then she wrapped herself in a dark cloak from the wardrobe and slipped out.

Veinmoon Castle was a maze. Still, the pendant guided her. It warmed whenever she chose the right turn, cooled when she strayed. She passed servants' staircases, portrait halls, and one window where the moon hung pale above the snow.

At the vault door, she stopped.

The carved wolf head in the center held a hollow exactly the shape of the pendant.

Her hand shook as she lifted it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, though she did not know whether she was apologizing to Cole, to Lucien, or to herself.

The pendant slid into place.

Red light spread through the carvings.

The door opened.

Cold air flowed out.

Inside, rows of glass cabinets glowed with blue-white light. Vials lay suspended in silver brackets, each one labeled in a script Anastasia could not read.

Then she saw the English letters.

Moonheart Serum.

She took one vial.

Just one.

Enough to save Lucien.

She turned.

Cole stood in the doorway.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Hope had been on his face when he first found her in the castle. It was gone now. In its place came something far worse than anger.

Hurt.

"So this is why you came," he said.

Anastasia clutched the vial to her chest. "I can explain."

His eyes fell to the pendant still locked into the vault door.

"You used my heart-core to open my serum vault."

She did not understand the word heart-core, not then.

"Cole--"

He crossed the room in three strides and caught her wrist. His grip was not cruel, but it was iron.

"Was last night real to you at all?" he asked. "Or was the bond only a key?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?"

Her mouth opened. No sound came.

If she said Lucien's name, she might doom him.

Cole read her silence as guilt.

His expression shut down.

"Bring her," he ordered.

Two guards entered. Anastasia fought, but they took the serum from her hands and the pendant from the door.

Cole held the pendant for a long moment, his face unreadable.

Then he walked out of the vault and down the courtyard steps toward a pool of silver-white water steaming in the cold.

The Silver Spring.

Anastasia followed, panic rising. "Give it back."

Cole looked at the wolf pendant in his palm.

"Do you know what this is?"

"It's what you gave me."

His jaw tightened.

"Yes," he said. "And you used it to rob me."

He threw it into the Silver Spring.

Anastasia screamed and lunged forward.

"No!"

The pendant sank beneath the glowing water.

Cole's eyes were cold. "If it matters so much, retrieve it."

She should have known he was testing her. She should have thought of the danger. But the pendant was not simply a charm or a key. It was the only proof that the man from the Blood Moon had not been a dream.

Anastasia jumped.

The water burned.

It did not feel like cold. It felt like a thousand silver needles driving through her skin. She kicked downward, eyes stinging, lungs seizing. At the bottom of the spring, the pendant's red eyes glowed faintly.

She reached it.

Her fingers closed around it.

Then her dress snagged on something under the water.

Panic exploded through her chest. She pulled, twisted, swallowed silver water. The world dimmed at the edges.

The last thing she heard was a roar that shook the stones.

Arms seized her.

She broke the surface coughing, dragged against a body burning hot enough to fight the spring's chill. Cole hauled her onto the stone edge and pressed his hands to her shoulders.

"Are you insane?"

She coughed until her throat tore, then opened her fist.

The pendant lay in her palm.

"This," she whispered, "was yours to give. Not yours to make meaningless."

Something flickered across his face.

For one second, he looked as if she had wounded him.

Then he remembered the empty space in the vault.

His voice hardened.

"And you made it a theft."

Chapter Three: The Temporary Luna

By nightfall, every wolf in Veinmoon knew an outsider had opened the serum vault.

By midnight, the elders had gathered.

Anastasia stood in the center of the tribunal hall with burns from the Silver Spring still raw along her arms. A guard had taken the Moonheart Serum. Another had locked the pendant back around her neck as if it were evidence instead of a promise.

Cole sat above her.

He had not spoken to her since dragging her from the spring.

That silence was worse than shouting.

The doors opened with a groan.

Every wolf in the hall bowed.

Anastasia turned.

An old man entered with a black cane carved into the head of a wolf. His hair was silver, his posture straight, and his red eyes colder than Cole's ever had been. Age had not softened him. It had polished him into something sharp.

Aldric Winston.

The former wolf king.

Anastasia knew it before anyone said his name. Power moved around him like winter around a mountain.

Aldric stopped before the dais. He did not look at her first. He looked at Cole.

"A human entered the Moonheart vault," he said. "Using your heart-core."

The word returned.

Heart-core.

Cole's expression remained unreadable.

"I will handle it."

"You have already mishandled it." Aldric turned to Anastasia. "Name."

She lifted her chin. "Anastasia Steele."

The hall stirred.

The surname moved through the elders in whispers.

Steele.

Aldric's eyes narrowed. "Interesting."

Anastasia's stomach dropped.

He knew that name.

He knew Lucien's family name.

"She stole Moonheart Serum," one elder said. "The punishment is death."

"If she acted for Rogue forces," another added, "her associates must be found."

Anastasia's blood chilled.

Associates.

Lucien.

She took an involuntary step forward. "My father has nothing to do with this."

Cole's gaze snapped to her.

Aldric smiled, very slightly.

"Your father."

She had made a mistake.

A fatal one.

Aldric tapped his cane against the stone. "Take her below. Question her until she tells us where he is."

Guards moved.

Cole stood.

"No one touches her."

The hall went silent.

Aldric slowly turned his head. "Excuse me?"

Cole stepped down from the dais. His body placed itself between Anastasia and the guards before she could understand what he was doing.

"She is my mate," he said.

A shock moved through the room.

Anastasia stared at his back.

My mate.

The words should have felt like protection. Instead they felt like another chain.

Aldric laughed once, without warmth. "A human thief is not Veinmoon's Luna because the Blood Moon tied a thread around your wrist."

"The bond is recognized by old law."

"Old law also says a mate accused of treason can be held only under a Luna contract if the Alpha accepts full responsibility for her crimes." Aldric leaned on his cane. "Do you accept that responsibility?"

Cole did not hesitate.

"Yes."

Anastasia turned cold all the way through.

"No," she said.

Cole looked back at her.

"Sign," he said quietly.

"I will not let you turn me into your property."

His eyes flashed. "This is not about property."

Aldric's voice cut between them. "Refuse, and the sentence proceeds. You die. Your father is found. Any Rogue connected to the theft is disposed of."

Anastasia could hear her own pulse.

Cole's mouth barely moved. "He will do it."

She looked at him then. Not at the Alpha, not at the man who had thrown her pendant into the spring, but at the wolf who knew the danger in the room and was telling her the truth.

A parchment was brought.

Temporary Luna Contract.

Three months.

Residence within Veinmoon-controlled territory.

No disclosure of Pack medicine, law, or bloodline secrets.

Full supervision by Alpha Cole Winston.

If the temporary Luna carried Alpha blood, the contract would convert automatically into a permanent bond until the child's status was determined.

Anastasia saw the last clause and felt a flicker of unease she could not name.

Cole cut his palm and pressed his blood to the parchment.

Everyone waited.

She took the silver blade. It stung against her finger. Her blood touched the page.

The contract burned red.

The invisible thread between them tightened so hard she nearly gasped.

Aldric watched with cold satisfaction.

"For three months," he said, "she lives because you claim her. At the end of the term, if she cannot prove innocence, you will deliver her to the elders yourself."

Cole's jaw hardened.

"She is under my protection."

"She is under your watch," Aldric corrected. "Do not confuse the two."

When the hall emptied, Anastasia stood beneath the portraits of dead wolf kings and touched the pendant at her throat.

Cole approached.

She forced herself not to step back.

"So now I am your wife?"

"No."

The answer came too fast.

Too sharp.

She flinched despite herself.

Cole saw it. Something moved in his eyes, but his voice remained cold.

"Do not misunderstand. I did not marry you. I put a leash on a thief so my grandfather would not execute her."

Anastasia's throat tightened.

"Then keep your leash short, Alpha."

She walked past him.

He did not follow.

Her rooms were moved that night to the east wing. Guards were posted outside. Servants brought food without meeting her eyes. Someone had placed fresh bandages and burn salve beside the bed.

A note lay with them.

For the Silver Spring wounds.

No signature.

She knew anyway.

Anastasia picked up the salve, then put it down again.

She told herself she would not soften because he had offered medicine after throwing her into a world that wanted her dead.

But when the burns throbbed, she used it.

And hated that it helped.

The next morning, she woke to whispers beyond the door.

"Human Luna."

"Vault thief."

"Alpha should have let Lord Aldric finish it."

Anastasia opened the door.

Two maids froze in the hallway.

"If you are going to insult me," she said, "at least do it loud enough that I can correct your grammar."

One maid flushed. The other dropped her gaze.

Anastasia walked past them with her head high, though her hands shook once she reached the stairwell.

The castle had accepted her presence the way a body accepts a splinter: by swelling around it.

She was not a guest.

She was a wound.

Chapter Four: A Marriage Made of Stone

The first week of the temporary marriage taught Anastasia three things.

First, Veinmoon Castle had more rules than rooms.

She could walk the east wing, the inner courtyard, the library, and the medical annex under escort. She could not enter the west tower, the training yard, the council hall, the lower cells, or any door marked with a Blood Moon. She could not leave the grounds. She could not call Lucien without a guard listening.

Second, everyone in the castle had an opinion about her.

Most believed she had seduced Cole in order to steal serum. Some believed she was a Rogue spy. A few lowered their eyes when she passed, not out of respect but out of fear that the Alpha might punish them for staring too openly.

Third, Cole was everywhere and nowhere.

She saw him at the head of the council table, issuing orders in that cold voice that made seasoned wolves bow their heads. She saw him crossing the courtyard at midnight, shirt sleeves rolled up, silver wounds still healing under his skin. She saw him once in the medical annex, speaking quietly to a doctor about a patient file.

The moment he noticed her, his face closed.

"You are not allowed in that section," he said.

Anastasia looked past him at the shelves of serum research. "Then why did your doctor leave the door open?"

"Because he assumed you would have the sense not to trespass."

"You know, for someone who keeps calling me a thief, you leave many interesting things unattended."

His eyes narrowed.

She folded her arms. "I want to understand Moonheart Serum."

"Why? Planning your next theft?"

The words hit harder because she had expected them.

"Planning to make sure no one I love ever has to beg your Pack for it again."

Cole's expression changed, barely.

Before he could answer, a small commotion rose from the corridor.

A child was crying.

Anastasia stepped around Cole and saw a woman kneeling on the stone floor with a boy in her arms. The child could not have been more than eight. Blue-black veins crawled up his neck. Silver poisoning.

A guard blocked the woman. "The annex is closed to unauthorized Rogues."

"He's not Rogue," the woman sobbed. "His father was exiled before he was born. Please, he needs stabilizer."

The guard's face did not change. "Without Pack registry, no serum."

Anastasia moved before she thought.

"Bring him in."

The guard stared at her.

"I said bring him in."

"You do not give orders here," he replied.

Cole's voice came from behind her.

"She does today."

The guard stiffened.

Anastasia turned.

Cole did not look at her. He looked at the boy.

"Use a low-dose stabilizer," he told the doctor. "Charge it to my private account."

The mother burst into tears.

Anastasia watched Cole sign the authorization tablet. He did it as if it were nothing, as if he had not just broken one of the cold rules everyone kept throwing in her face.

When the boy was carried inside, she followed.

Cole caught her wrist.

"You will stay out of the procedure."

"I'm trained."

"In human rescue medicine. This is wolf blood poisoning."

"Then teach me."

The request landed between them like a stone dropped into deep water.

Cole stared at her.

For a moment she saw the man from the storm again. Not the Alpha. Not the judge. Just the wounded wolf who had remembered her hands.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because ignorance is another kind of leash." She pulled her wrist free. "I have enough of those."

That afternoon, a stack of medical texts appeared outside her door.

No note.

Later, she learned from a nurse that Lucien had received a second stabilizing treatment at the hospital, quietly authorized through a Veinmoon shell account.

Cole never mentioned it.

Anastasia did not thank him.

But the knowledge settled painfully under her ribs.

He was capable of kindness.

He simply made it look like punishment.

The second week, someone ruined her breakfast.

She sat alone at the long east-wing table, trying to translate a passage on serum binding agents, when a young noblewoman walked past and spilled hot coffee across her notebook.

"Oh," the woman said, not sounding sorry. "I didn't see you."

Anastasia stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.

The noblewoman smiled. "Careful, human. Temporary Luna does not mean real Luna."

Before Anastasia could answer, every servant in the room went silent.

Cole stood in the doorway.

He looked at the soaked notebook, then at the woman.

"Name."

The woman's smile vanished. "Alpha, I--"

"Name."

"Mariel of the Grayridge line."

"Your access to Veinmoon Castle is revoked." Cole's voice was calm. "Your family will receive notice by noon."

Mariel's face went white. "For coffee?"

Cole stepped closer.

"For disrespecting my Luna in my house."

Anastasia stared at him.

My Luna.

He had said it for everyone else.

He would not say it to her.

When the room emptied, she gathered the ruined papers.

Cole picked up one wet page before she could stop him. His gaze moved over her handwriting: serum destabilization, Rogue exclusion, alternative binders, Lucien's post-treatment response.

His face darkened.

"You wrote down patient responses?"

"I wrote down what I saw."

"These records are restricted."

"So are your medicines. That seems to be the problem."

He looked at her for a long moment.

"You think you can replace Moonheart Serum?"

"Not today." She took the page from him. "Maybe not for years. But one day, someone should."

"And that someone is you?"

"Why not?"

The corner of his mouth moved, not quite a smile. "Because you are impossible."

"You say that like you are surprised."

Something in the air softened.

Then a guard appeared at the doorway and announced that Lord Aldric wished to see Cole.

The softness was gone.

Cole turned to leave, then stopped.

"The east-wing staff will be replaced today."

Anastasia blinked.

"Why?"

"Because they allowed that to happen."

"I can fight my own battles."

"I know." He looked back at her. "That does not mean you should have to fight all of them."

He left before she could answer.

Anastasia stood alone with her ruined notes and hated how much those words hurt.

Because they sounded almost like care.

Chapter Five: Ironclaw's Bride

Seren Ashridge arrived at Veinmoon on a rain-gray afternoon, bringing with her six Ironclaw guards, three trunks of gowns, and the kind of beauty designed to make other women feel temporary.

Anastasia watched from the upper gallery as the castle doors opened for her.

Seren's hair was a deep copper brown, glossy against the black fur collar of her coat. Her smile was polished. Her eyes were not. They found Anastasia almost immediately, and something sharp flashed there.

Ethan stood beside Anastasia, looking as if he wished he were elsewhere.

"Ironclaw Pack," she said.

"Yes."

"Cole's future wife?"

Ethan hesitated one second too long.

Anastasia laughed softly. "That is answer enough."

"The alliance predates you," Ethan said carefully.

"Everything here predates me. That seems to be the theme."

Below, Seren greeted Cole with a poised bow that was half respect, half claim.

"Alpha Cole."

"Seren."

He did not take her hand.

Anastasia noticed. So did Seren.

Aldric entered from the west hall before the moment could become too obvious.

"Lady Ashridge," he said warmly. Warmer, Anastasia thought, than he had ever sounded with anyone who was not a weapon. "Veinmoon welcomes Ironclaw."

Seren bowed to him. "My father sends his respect, Lord Aldric. He also sends hope that old promises will not be forgotten."

Aldric's eyes cut briefly toward Anastasia.

"Old promises are the strongest kind."

The words were meant to be heard.

Anastasia turned away.

That evening, Seren found her in the library.

Anastasia was translating a chapter on serum binders with three dictionaries open around her. She felt Seren's presence before she heard the soft click of heels.

"So this is where he keeps you," Seren said.

Anastasia did not look up. "Good evening to you too."

Seren walked around the table, fingertips trailing across the spines of old books. "I expected the human thief to be prettier."

"I expected the political bride to be busier."

Seren's smile sharpened.

"You know what I am. Good. That saves time."

Anastasia closed the book.

Seren leaned closer. "My Pack has guarded Veinmoon's eastern border for three generations. Ironclaw bleeds so Veinmoon can sit comfortably in its mountains. The alliance between our Packs is not romance, little human. It is survival."

"Then marry survival. Leave me out of it."

"I would love to." Seren's eyes dropped to the pendant at Anastasia's throat. "But you are wearing what should have been mine."

Anastasia touched the wolf head without meaning to.

"Cole gave it to me."

"Do you know what it means?"

The question carried too much weight.

Anastasia lifted her chin. "If you are about to explain that I am unworthy, get in line."

Seren's face hardened.

"It means future Luna. It means he marked you before the Pack, whether he had the sense to admit it or not. It means every elder who sees it wonders whether Ironclaw has been insulted."

Anastasia's fingers tightened around the pendant.

future Luna.

Again the title. Again a truth no one had bothered to tell her.

"Then take it up with him."

"I am taking it up with you." Seren stepped closer. "Temporary contracts end. Political alliances remain. When your three months are over, Cole will do what Veinmoon requires. You will disappear."

Anastasia smiled, though her stomach twisted.

"You say that like it frightens me."

Seren's gaze moved over her face, assessing. "It should. Lord Aldric does not tolerate loose ends."

Before Anastasia could answer, the library doors opened.

Cole stood there.

Seren's expression changed instantly, polished into innocence.

"Alpha Cole. I was just becoming acquainted with your temporary Luna."

Cole looked between them.

"Were you."

"She is very... determined."

Anastasia gathered her books. "If you want a private conversation about my disappearance, I can leave."

Cole's eyes snapped to her.

Seren's smile thinned.

"You misunderstand."

"No," Anastasia said. "I think I understood perfectly."

She walked toward the door.

Cole caught her arm as she passed.

"What did she say?"

Anastasia looked at his hand, then at his face.

"Ask your future wife."

His grip loosened.

"She is not my wife."

"Neither am I."

The words struck him. Anastasia saw it, and hated that she saw it.

She left before the bond could pull any more truth out of her.

Behind her, Seren said something too low to hear.

Cole's answer came clear.

"Do not threaten her again."

Anastasia stopped at the end of the hall.

She should have kept walking.

Instead she stood in the shadows, one hand pressed against the pendant, wondering why protection felt so much like pain when it came from him.

That night, she dreamed of the Blood Moon.

In the dream, Cole put the pendant into her palm and said, It will protect you.

Then Aldric's voice whispered from the dark, Protection is only another word for ownership.

She woke with a sick taste in her mouth.

At breakfast, the smell of roasted meat made her stomach turn.

She pushed the plate away.

A maid noticed. So did Ethan.

Across the room, Cole looked up.

Anastasia forced herself to sip water and pretend nothing was wrong.

But her body already knew what her mind refused to say.

Chapter Six: The First Luna Feast

Six weeks into the contract, Veinmoon held an alliance feast.

Anastasia learned of it from a dress.

The gown arrived in her room after noon: deep red silk, fitted waist, bare shoulders, wolf-head clasps at the sleeves. It was beautiful in the way a ceremonial blade was beautiful. Designed to be admired. Designed to draw blood.

"Alpha's orders," the maid said.

Anastasia stared at the narrow waist. Her stomach had been unsettled for days. She had counted the dates twice and stopped before a third count could turn suspicion into truth.

"Is there another gown?"

"This is the Luna gown."

"Temporary Luna."

The maid looked away.

"That was not the wording."

Anastasia was still holding the gown when Cole entered without knocking.

She turned too fast, heat rising in her face. "Do you ever ask permission?"

"This is my house."

"And my room. Or is that another temporary privilege?"

His gaze dropped to the gown, then to her face. "Wear it tonight."

"It doesn't fit."

"It was made to your measurements."

"Measurements change."

His eyes narrowed.

The air sharpened.

Anastasia regretted the words the moment she said them.

Cole took one step closer. "Have you been ill?"

"No."

"You avoid meat. You sleep through breakfast. You went pale yesterday in the medical annex."

"You watch me that closely?"

"You are under my protection."

"Supervision," she corrected. "Aldric was very clear."

Pain flickered in his eyes and vanished.

"Wear the gown," he said. "Tonight, every Pack representative in this region will be watching. If they see weakness, they will use it."

"My discomfort is not weakness."

"In their eyes, everything human is weakness."

She looked at him then.

"Including me?"

Cole did not answer quickly enough.

That was answer enough.

The feast filled the great hall with candlelight and hungry eyes.

Anastasia wore the red gown because refusing would have made too many people happy. The waist was tight enough that she kept one hand near her abdomen, pretending to adjust the silk whenever nausea rose.

Cole stood at the head of the hall, all black beside her red. He had not touched her since they entered, but every wolf in the room seemed to understand that she was under his claim.

Claim.

She hated the word.

She also hated how safe she felt when he stood near her.

Ironclaw's Beta, Kurt, approached after the first toast. He was broad, handsome, and drunk enough to mistake cruelty for courage.

"Miss Steele," he said. "Or should I say Lady Luna? Forgive me. I never know what title to give a human who broke into a serum vault."

Anastasia smiled. "Try doctor-in-training. It will confuse everyone."

Kurt laughed too loudly. "You are charming. No wonder Cole kept you alive."

His hand brushed her shoulder.

She stepped back.

"Do not touch me."

"Temporary Luna," he said softly, leaning closer. "Temporary protections."

His fingers closed around her wrist.

The red thread under her skin flared.

Before Anastasia could react, Kurt hit the floor.

Cole stood over him.

The hall went silent.

Kurt coughed, blood on his lip.

Cole's voice carried to every corner. "She is my Luna. Touching her without permission is an offense against me. Do it again, and Ironclaw will receive your body in pieces."

No one moved.

Seren's face had gone white with fury.

Anastasia should have felt triumphant.

Instead she felt tired.

Cole wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and led her from the hall. His hand rested at the small of her back, steady, possessive, hot through the silk.

The moment the door to her room closed, she pulled away.

"You did not need to break his jaw."

"He touched you."

"And that injured your pride?"

Cole's eyes darkened. "Do not make this about pride."

"What should I make it about?" she demanded. "You defend me in public, then remind me in private that I am a thief. You call me your Luna when another man touches me, and a suspect when I ask for trust. Which one am I tonight?"

He said nothing.

She laughed once, bitterly.

"That's what I thought."

She turned away.

Cole caught her waist.

The movement was too fast. The bond answered before her anger could. Heat flooded her, sharp and humiliating. She put both hands on his chest to push him away.

His heartbeat pounded under her palms.

"Tell me there is nothing between you and Kurt," he said.

She stared at him. "You cannot be serious."

"Tell me."

"There is nothing between me and anyone in this castle except chains."

His expression changed.

The words had hit him, but not enough to make him let go.

He lowered his head.

Anastasia knew she should turn away.

His mouth brushed hers, and the thought scattered.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was anger held in the shape of desire, apology buried under possession, fear pretending to be command. She hated him for it. She hated herself more for the sound that escaped her before she could swallow it.

Cole froze.

His hands tightened, then loosened.

He drew back just enough to look at her.

"Anastasia."

Her eyes burned.

"Don't," she whispered. "Do not say my name like I mean something and then act like I don't."

He looked as if she had cut him.

She pushed him away and escaped into the bathroom.

The door closed between them.

Only then did her body fold over the sink.

Nausea rose violently. She gripped the porcelain until her knuckles whitened.

When it passed, she lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror.

Pale face. Red eyes from unshed tears. A wolf pendant at her throat.

Her hand moved slowly to her abdomen.

The dates lined up.

The Blood Moon.

Cole.

No.

She closed her eyes.

Not here.

Not in this castle.

Not under Aldric's law.

Chapter Seven: The Secret Beneath Her Heart

Stella met her in a small human clinic two towns over, wearing a wool hat pulled low and the terrified expression of someone who had spent all morning imagining the worst.

"You look like you escaped a vampire mansion," Stella said as soon as Anastasia sat down.

"Wrong species."

"That is not comforting."

Anastasia almost smiled.

Almost.

The exam took fifteen minutes. The waiting afterward felt like an entire winter.

When the doctor returned with the report, her smile was gentle.

"Miss Steele," she said. "You are pregnant. Approximately six weeks."

The room went very quiet.

Six weeks.

The Blood Moon night.

Anastasia looked down at her hands, which had gone white around the edge of the chair.

Stella reached for her. "Ana."

"I'm fine."

The lie sounded thin even to her.

The doctor began speaking about rest, nutrition, follow-up visits. Anastasia heard almost none of it. Her mind had gone back to the contract parchment burning red under her blood.

If the temporary Luna carried Alpha blood, the contract would convert automatically.

The child would be subject to Pack recognition.

Pack recognition meant Pack ownership. Not in polite language, perhaps. But she had lived inside Veinmoon long enough to understand what the old laws meant when spoken by men like Aldric.

A child of Cole's blood would not be allowed to simply be hers.

Outside the clinic, Stella hugged her so tightly Anastasia could barely breathe.

"You have to tell him," Stella whispered.

Anastasia shook her head.

"Ana--"

"No." Her hand covered her abdomen. "Not until I know this baby will be safe."

"He is the father."

"He is also Alpha of the Pack that would take the child from me if Aldric ordered it."

Stella's face softened with helpless anger. "Do you think Cole would let that happen?"

Anastasia thought of him throwing the pendant into the Silver Spring. Thought of him calling her a thief. Thought of the way he had broken Kurt's jaw and then demanded reassurance as if her body were territory.

"I don't know," she said. "That is the problem."

They drove back separately. Anastasia kept the report folded under the lining of her coat.

At Veinmoon, the castle seemed darker than before.

She had barely reached the east wing when voices from the study stopped her.

Ethan's voice: "Lord Aldric expects a formal answer before the end of the contract. Ironclaw is pressing harder. Seren's father says the border villages cannot hold without Veinmoon stabilizer shipments."

Cole: "I know."

"And Miss Steele?"

Silence.

Anastasia stood very still.

Cole's answer came colder than she expected.

"Her situation does not change Veinmoon's obligations."

Her fingers curled over the hidden report.

Her situation.

That was all she was. A complication. A temporary problem to be managed until the old alliance resumed.

The door opened.

Cole stood there.

For one breath, neither of them moved.

"You heard."

"Enough."

He pulled her into the study and closed the door.

"This is Pack politics."

"And I am not allowed to ask whether you plan to marry another woman while your contract still owns me?"

His eyes flashed. "It does not own you."

"Then what does it do?"

He had no answer.

She laughed softly. It hurt. "Exactly."

Cole stepped closer. "Seren is not my wife."

"But she will be?"

"That is not--"

"Not what? Simple? Convenient? A human thief's business?"

He flinched at the word thief, and she knew he remembered saying it too many times.

His voice lowered. "Why are you so upset?"

Anastasia stared at him.

Because I am carrying your child.

Because I am afraid you would keep the baby and lose me without noticing.

Because I love you and I hate that love gives you a way to hurt me.

She said none of it.

"Because I am tired."

Cole reached for her.

She stepped back too quickly and one hand went to her stomach.

His gaze dropped.

Something sharpened in his face.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Protecting yourself from me."

The accusation broke something small and hot in her chest.

"Maybe I learned from experience."

Cole went still.

She turned and left before he could stop her.

That night, she hid the pregnancy report inside the lining of her emergency bag.

Then she touched the pendant and tried, again, to unclasp it.

Pain shot through her chest.

She gasped and let go.

The red stones in the wolf's eyes glowed faintly, as if the pendant had a heartbeat.

"What are you?" she whispered.

It gave no answer.

The next evening, Stella agreed to meet her at a small bar beyond the Veinmoon border, a place too human for Pack nobles to frequent.

Anastasia needed one hour away from stone walls and wolf eyes.

She needed to say the truth out loud to someone who would not turn it into law.

"I am pregnant," she told Stella in a corner booth.

Stella covered her mouth.

"I don't know what to do," Anastasia said.

Before Stella could answer, a hand reached over Anastasia's shoulder and caught the chain at her throat.

"You really do wear it everywhere."

Seren stood behind her.

Anastasia rose so fast the chair scraped the floor.

"Let go."

Seren's eyes were fixed on the pendant.

"Do you know how many Ironclaw elders have asked me why a human thief wears Veinmoon's heart-core?"

Stella stepped between them. "Back off."

Seren shoved her.

Stella hit the table and cried out.

Rage flared through Anastasia. She grabbed Seren's wrist.

"Do not touch my friend."

Seren's nostrils flared.

Her gaze dropped.

For a heartbeat, all the noise of the bar vanished.

Seren inhaled.

A slow, terrible smile spread across her face.

"So that is why you look sick."

Anastasia's blood froze.

Seren's hand shot toward the pendant again. Anastasia backed into the wall, one arm crossing instinctively over her abdomen.

Seren saw the movement.

"You're carrying him."

"You are wrong."

Seren lunged.

Heat exploded beneath Anastasia's palm.

A pulse of red light burst from her body and threw Seren backward. Chairs overturned. Someone screamed.

Anastasia stood frozen, one hand on her stomach.

Seren rose slowly, shock giving way to hatred.

"A human carrying Alpha blood." Her voice shook. "Do you think that makes you Luna?"

Anastasia swallowed.

Seren leaned close enough for only her to hear.

"That child will not save you. If Aldric finds out, it will belong to Veinmoon before it ever belongs to you."

She turned and walked out.

Stella clutched Anastasia's arm.

"Ana, we have to go."

But Anastasia could not move.

Because the fear she had tried to name had just spoken in Seren's voice.

The baby was not only a child.

In Veinmoon, it was a claim.

Chapter Eight: The First Escape

Seren delivered the invitation herself.

It arrived the next morning in a white envelope sealed with the Ironclaw crest. Inside was a formal notice of the alliance feast that would mark the final negotiations between Ironclaw and Veinmoon.

At the bottom, in Seren's elegant hand, was one sentence.

Enjoy your last days as temporary Luna.

Anastasia read it twice.

Then she packed.

Not much. The pregnancy report. Lucien's old photograph. Her medical notes. A change of clothes. The little cash she had managed to keep hidden. She left the red gown in the wardrobe and wore boots instead.

The castle slept uneasily around her.

For weeks she had studied the guard rotations. There was a narrow window after midnight, when the east-wing watch changed and the courtyard cameras shifted to the outer wall. She waited for it with her bag over her shoulder, heart pounding against the pendant.

She made it through the servants' passage.

Through the herb court.

Past the low wall where snow had drifted against the stone.

For one breath, she stood beyond Veinmoon's boundary.

Free.

Then the forest moved.

A Rogue stepped from the trees.

He was gaunt, wild-eyed, his skin gray beneath the moonlight. Two more followed. Their gaze fixed not on her face but on her abdomen.

Anastasia's hand flew to her stomach.

The first Rogue smiled.

"Alpha's little Luna."

She backed away.

"Stay back."

He inhaled, and his smile widened. "And Alpha's little pup."

Terror stripped the air from her lungs.

She ran.

A claw caught her sleeve and tore fabric. She stumbled over a root, hit the ground hard, and curled around her stomach. The Rogue dropped over her, mouth open.

A white blur struck him aside.

The forest exploded with a roar.

Cole stood between her and the Rogues, half shifted, claws out, eyes burning red. He looked less like a man than a storm given bones.

"Touch her," he said, "and I will leave nothing for the earth to bury."

The Rogues fled.

Cole turned on Anastasia.

For a second she saw only fury.

Then she saw what lived beneath it.

Fear.

He lifted her from the ground and carried her toward a black car waiting near the road.

"Put me down."

"No."

"Cole--"

"Do you know what happens outside my territory?" His voice shook with restrained rage. "Do you know how many Rogues would kill for a chance to hurt someone carrying my scent?"

Her throat closed.

Carrying my scent.

If he only knew.

He set her in the passenger seat and buckled her in himself. His hands were rough, but not careless. He checked her wrists, her knees, the torn sleeve.

"Are you hurt?"

The question came too softly.

She looked at him.

He was breathing hard, the red in his eyes not yet fading.

"Why do you care?" she whispered.

Cole went still.

"You are under my protection."

"No." Her voice broke. "That is not an answer."

He shut the car door and walked around to the driver's side.

They drove in silence until the castle lights were behind them and the forest swallowed the road.

Anastasia stared out the window, one hand hidden beneath her coat, protecting the life he did not know about.

"Cole," she said.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"If I were not the vault thief. If I were just Anastasia. Would you love me?"

The question filled the car like smoke.

Cole did not answer.

She turned to him.

"Just once, say something honest."

For a moment, he looked young. Wounded. Caught between the man he wanted to be and the Alpha his world had made of him.

His mouth parted.

Then the castle, the serum vault, Aldric's eyes, Seren's accusations, and the stolen vial returned to his face.

"I cannot love a woman who used my heart-core to steal my Pack's sacred medicine."

There it was.

Not shouted. Not cruelly delivered.

Worse.

Believed.

Anastasia turned back to the window.

Something inside her went quiet.

"Thank you," she said.

Cole frowned. "For what?"

"For answering."

He seemed to understand too late that he had not answered the question she had asked.

At the castle, he carried her inside despite her protests and ordered a doctor to examine her. She refused to let anyone touch her stomach for too long. The doctor, perhaps wise or simply afraid, asked no questions.

The next day she went to a human clinic again.

The baby's heartbeat was there.

Tiny. Fast. Defiant.

Anastasia watched the screen and cried silently.

"Everything looks stable," the doctor said.

Stable.

The word felt like mercy.

She returned to Veinmoon knowing she could not stay.

The alliance feast was set for the following night. Cole ordered her to attend. He sent a silver-white gown this time, tight through the waist, ceremonial enough to announce submission without saying the word.

Anastasia stared at it, then took out her emergency bag.

On the desk she placed the temporary marriage ring, the unused spare vial of Moonheart Serum Cole had quietly arranged for Lucien, and her research notebook.

She wrote a letter.

Cole,

If I had only wanted medicine, I would take this vial with me.

I am leaving it because I was never here to rob you.

I owe Veinmoon one vial. I will repay that debt one day with a cure no one can use as a chain.

But I cannot stay as your suspect, your temporary Luna, or your mistake.

Anastasia.

She read it once.

Then she folded it and placed it beneath the vial.

When she touched the pendant at her throat, pain lanced through her chest.

She could not remove it.

So she left with Cole's heart still against her skin.

Chapter Nine: Blood on the Stairs

The alliance feast glittered like a polished lie.

Crystal chandeliers burned over the great hall. Pack leaders drank dark wine beneath Veinmoon banners. Ironclaw delegates filled an entire side of the room, all silver embroidery and hungry smiles. Seren stood among them in black velvet, every inch the bride everyone expected.

Anastasia arrived in a dark blue gown instead of the white one Cole had sent.

The color was a quiet defiance.

Cole saw it immediately.

His eyes lowered to the looser cut at her waist, then returned to her face. Suspicion flickered there, but before he could reach her, Ethan appeared at his side and murmured something urgent.

A Pack council meeting.

Of course.

Anastasia watched Cole disappear into the side chamber.

For a long moment she stood in the middle of the hall, surrounded by people who believed she was temporary and therefore already gone.

Then she followed.

The chamber door had been left open a crack.

Seren's voice came first.

"Ironclaw has waited long enough. The contract with the human is halfway over. My father wants a date."

Cole's reply was cold.

"No."

A murmur moved through the room.

Seren sounded stunned. "No?"

"I will not set a date. Anastasia is still my Luna under old law."

"She is a thief."

"She is mine to judge," Cole said. "Not yours."

Anastasia's heart betrayed her.

It lifted.

Even after everything, even after the car, even after his words, something in her still wanted to believe that when the world pushed, he would stand between her and it.

She stepped back before anyone could see her listening.

She had almost reached the staircase when Seren appeared from the side corridor.

All the polish was gone from her face.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Anastasia did not slow. "Move."

Seren blocked the stairway.

"He embarrassed me in front of Pack leaders for you. Do you understand what that costs Ironclaw?"

"Your alliance is not my responsibility."

"Everything you touch becomes your responsibility." Seren's eyes dropped to her abdomen. "Including the thing you are hiding."

Anastasia's blood chilled.

"I told you. There is nothing."

"Liar."

Seren stepped closer. "Do you think a human belly makes you powerful? Aldric will not let you keep an Alpha heir. Cole may be sentimental, but the Pack is older than his weakness."

"Don't speak about my child."

The words came out before Anastasia could stop them.

Seren's smile widened.

"So it is true."

Anastasia turned to leave.

Seren grabbed her arm.

"You are not walking away from me."

"Let go."

"You stole my place."

"I never wanted it."

"Then why does he look at you like you have already taken it?"

Seren shoved her.

Anastasia's heel slipped on the polished edge of the step.

For one suspended second, she saw Seren's face above her, white with shock and rage.

Then the stairs turned beneath her.

Her body struck wood, stone, air, then wood again. Pain burst through her side. Her hands flew to her stomach. Something warm spread beneath her gown.

She landed at the bottom and could not breathe.

The music from the hall continued.

So elegant.

So far away.

Anastasia tried to move.

Pain tore through her abdomen.

"No," she whispered. "No, please."

Seren stood at the top of the stairs.

For one moment fear crossed her face.

Then she looked toward the hall, wiped her expression clean, and disappeared.

Anastasia's fingers pressed against the blood staining her gown.

"Baby," she breathed. "Stay with me."

Footsteps approached, not from the hall but from the dark side corridor.

A man knelt beside her.

Viktor Blackwood.

She had seen him only once before, across the alliance hall: dark hair, wolf-gray eyes, an Ironclaw invitation in his hand though he wore no Ironclaw crest. He had smiled like a man who knew too much.

Now there was no smile.

"Anastasia."

She tried to pull away.

"Cole."

"Cole is in council," Viktor said, already lifting her with careful arms. "And if Aldric hears you are bleeding, the whole castle will know what you are hiding before you wake."

Her eyes widened.

He knew.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who hates Aldric more than you do." Viktor carried her toward the servants' exit. "Try not to die before I prove that is useful."

She wanted to protest.

She had no strength.

The last thing she saw before darkness took her was the wolf pendant swinging against her chest, its red eyes dimming like a failing heartbeat.

Cole came out of council twenty minutes later.

Anastasia was gone.

He searched the hall, the galleries, the east wing. No one had seen her leave. Seren was pale and silent at the Ironclaw table, but when he looked at her, she lifted her glass with a steady hand.

A bad feeling clawed up Cole's spine.

He returned to Anastasia's room.

The moment he opened the door, he knew.

The ring lay on the desk.

Beside it, a vial of Moonheart Serum.

Unused.

And beneath it, a letter.

Cole read it once.

Then again.

If I had only wanted medicine, I would take this vial with me.

His hand closed around the glass vial so hard Ethan stepped forward.

"Alpha."

Cole did not answer.

Ethan saw the notebook then, its pages filled with serum equations, patient notes, and one sentence written in the margin:

One day no Rogue should have to kneel for medicine.

Ethan's voice lowered.

"If she were only a thief, why leave the serum behind?"

The question struck harder because Cole had already asked it in his heart.

Then a guard rushed in.

"Alpha, we found blood near the south staircase. A lot of blood."

The world narrowed.

Cole looked up slowly.

"Whose?"

The guard swallowed.

"We believe it is Miss Steele's."

The vial slipped from Cole's hand and rolled across the floor.

It did not break.

Nothing broke loudly enough to match what happened inside him.