The Last Alphas Mate

The Blood Moon hovered low above the clearing, staining the night in shades of red and shadow. Lanterns flickered between the trees, their warm glow fighting against the chill that crept in after sunset. Soft music drifted through the air while unmated wolves gathered in small clusters, laughter and hope mingling in equal measure.

The ceremony happened every year.

Some came to be chosen.

Others came simply to be seen.

Lyra did neither.

She lingered near the edge of the forest, half-hidden behind a line of old pines where the firelight couldn't quite reach. Shadows wrapped around her like a shield, and she welcomed them. Her dress-faded, borrowed, and clearly not meant for her-hung awkwardly from her shoulders. It wasn't torn or improper, just wrong in a way that made her feel painfully visible if anyone looked too closely.

Most of the others had prepared for tonight. Painted lips. New fabrics. Bright laughter meant to draw attention.

Lyra had prepared by disappearing.

Her adoptive family stood closer to the clearing, already absorbed in conversation. They hadn't noticed when she drifted away. They rarely did. The absence of notice was a familiar thing-quiet, dull, and strangely comforting.

The scents of the gathering swirled together-smoke, roasted meat, perfume, damp earth. Then something cut through it all.

Sharp. Dark. Commanding.

Lyra stiffened.

Her wolf stirred, lifting its head as if sensing a storm before it broke.

The music faltered.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, spreading outward like a wave. Laughter died. Conversations fell quiet. Wolves straightened instinctively-or lowered their gazes.

Alpha Kade Draven had arrived.

Lyra didn't need to see him to feel the shift in the air. His presence pressed down on the clearing with quiet authority, undeniable and heavy. Stories of the Nightfall Alpha were told in hushed voices-of a leader who ruled with discipline and precision, who did not attend ceremonies he had no need for.

He wasn't supposed to be here.

Her pulse quickened as unease crept up her spine. She edged farther back into the trees, instinct guiding her steps. If she stayed unseen, if she stayed quiet, this night would pass like all the others.

Then the wind shifted.

Something inside her snapped taut.

Her breath caught as her wolf reacted sharply, a soft whimper echoing in her chest.

No.

She pressed herself deeper into the shadows, heart pounding. This feeling-this pull-it had to be coincidence. Rumors exaggerated things. Bonds didn't form like this. Not instantly. Not with someone like him.

She turned to leave.

She had taken only a few steps toward the forest when she felt it-movement behind her, silent and precise.

A hand closed gently but firmly around her wrist.

Lyra gasped.

Heat surged through her arm, spreading fast and unfamiliar, settling deep in her chest. The sensation was overwhelming, instinctive, impossible to ignore. She froze, not from fear, but from the sudden certainty that whatever this was, it had already begun.

She didn't struggle. She couldn't.

"You were leaving," a low voice said