Chapter Three: The Howl
The howl still echoed in my ears long after the wind had died down.
It was distant but sharp—cutting through the night like it had a purpose.
Not a warning.
A promise.
Ronan.
Even thinking the Bloodfang Alpha's name made something twist in my gut. The stories we were raised on painted him as half-legend, half-monster. He'd inherited the title too young—after the mysterious death of his father. No one dared challenge him. No one got close enough to try.
Because Ronan didn't just lead the Bloodfang Pack.
He was the Bloodfang Pack.
A wolf untouched by silver, immune to wolfsbane, and unmoved by mercy. He ruled with ruthless precision—never showing weakness, never backing down. While other Alphas met with councils and parlayed with Elders, Ronan stayed in the shadows—striking only when it hurt most.
He was feared across every territory…
But it was our pack he seemed to hate most.
No one knew why.
Some said it was a blood debt. Others whispered that our ancestors had betrayed his bloodline. My father claimed Ronan wanted to crush Silvermoon because we were the last pack strong enough to stand in his way.
I wasn't sure what to believe.
But I knew one thing:
Being tied to him—through the mate bond—would be the cruelest joke the Moon Goddess could ever play.
And yet, as I stared into the woods, heart still racing, something stirred inside me.
Not fear.
Something deeper. Older.
Like recognition.
"Lia?"
I blinked. Kye stood at the edge of the roof, eyebrows drawn in concern. I hadn't even heard him climb up.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I… yeah. Just thinking."
He sat beside me, his warmth cutting through the chill of the night. "You heard it too, didn't you?"
I nodded.
"Bloodfang's getting bold."
"Or desperate."
He was quiet for a moment. "Do you ever wonder what he's like? Ronan, I mean."
I scoffed. "Why would I waste time thinking about a power-drunk Alpha who probably bathes in wolfsbane just to show off?"
Kye smirked. "You've been reading too many campfire stories."
"Maybe," I muttered.
But even Ria—my wolf—had been unusually quiet.
She'd stirred the moment the howl broke through the trees, and now…
She was pacing. Restless.
Like something ancient had awakened—something she recognized, even if I didn't.
She didn't growl.
She didn't speak.
She just leaned closer inside me, like she was trying to catch a scent she didn't know she was missing.
We didn't know yet.
Couldn't know.
Wolves didn't recognize their mates until eye contact was made. But sometimes we felt a flicker. A shift.
And whatever that howl triggered in Ria…
It wasn't nothing.
The next morning
I woke to the sound of giggling and padded feet in the hallway.
"Zane!" I called out.
My ten-year-old brother peeked into the room, a mischievous grin on his face. "Reporting for duty, Alpha-to-be?"
I groaned. "Don't call me that."
"You're gonna shift tonight. That makes you cool now, right?"
"I've always been cool."
He laughed and launched himself onto my bed, burying under the covers beside me. "I had a dream that you turned into this giant silver wolf and scared off an entire Bloodfang patrol."
I raised a brow. "Silver? You sure I didn't sparkle too?"
Zane giggled, and I hugged him tightly.
He was one of the few people who didn't expect anything from me.
Who didn't see the Alpha's daughter—just his big sister.
After a minute, he wriggled free. "Mom says breakfast is ready. Dad's in his war room again."
Of course he was.
Later that day
I found my father pacing in the war room, maps sprawled across the table. The crease between his brows was deeper than usual.
"You felt it too?" he asked without looking up.
"The howl," I said. "Yeah."
He finally turned, his eyes sharp. "We're increasing border patrols. Especially near Ember Ridge."
"Do you think it was Ronan?"
He paused. A beat too long.
"I don't think," he said. "I know."
A chill swept down my spine. "Why now?"
"Because he wants to remind us that he's watching," my father muttered. "That even when we think we're safe… we're not."
There was something in his voice I hadn't heard before.
Fear.
"Do you know why he hates us?" I asked quietly.
He stiffened.
"There are old wounds, Liana. Blood spilled generations ago. And some debts… aren't meant to be paid."
"Tell me—"
"I've told you enough," he snapped. Then, softer, "Focus on tonight."
But I couldn't.
Because the howl still echoed in my head, just beneath the surface of my thoughts.
And Ria—who had always been strong and steady—wasn't calm anymore.
She was anxious. Waiting.
And I didn't know why.