The Alpha Who Faked Our Bond

For five years, I had worn a ring that meant nothing to the Moon. No sacred rites beneath the blood moon, no vows before the Elders, no binding howl under the ancient oak where true mates pledged eternity. Only a paper contract, Sebastian, Alpha of the Mooncrest Pack, pressed into my hands, promising the ceremony would come when the pack was stable. Five winters passed, and the Moon never recognized me as his mate.

When I dared to ask again last week, while folding his leathers, my voice trembling with hope, he didn’t even look up.

“Alpha Sebastian… maybe this year, for our fifth anniversary?”

“What for? You already bear my mark. Only insecure wolves need ceremony.”

“But you promised—”

“You’re childish. Drop it, Amara Ashborne.”

As always, I swallowed my paint. But not today.

I bought moon-lilies, his favorite, and prepared to honor the day myself. Yet the Moon pulled me elsewhere. Passing the Pack Hall, instinct made me turn, only to see Alpha Sebastian with Vera, my sister long thought lost. In her hands, a fresh bond certificate.

“I’ll discard Amara soon,” Alpha Sebastian vowed, cupping her face tenderly.

Then my brothers appeared, laughing, plotting my erasure. Betrayal crushed me. I ran, blind with grief, until hooves thundered, pain split my body, and darkness claimed me. From blood and betrayal, your true form is forged. You are not prey. You are the storm.