Elder Thane's POV
The old bond scroll crumbled between my fingers as I unrolled it.
At seventy-eight years old, I'd hoped never to see these marks again. But the magic in the air told me everything I needed to know. After three generations of silence, the Blackthorne curse had woken once more.
My grandson was forming a mate bond.
I set the fragile paper on my desk and rubbed my tired eyes. The hiding room beneath the pack house held secrets that most werewolves couldn't handle. Records of bloodline curses, illegal magic, and mistakes that still haunted our family after a hundred years.
Mistakes that Darius was about to make if I didn't stop him.
The bond scroll showed the truth in faded ink and old symbols. Every Blackthorne Alpha for the past century had faced the same decision. Love or job. Heart or pack. And every single one who picked wrong had paid a terrible price.
