The room they locked Mira in was not a cell.
That made it worse.
It was wide, carved from black stone, warmed by hidden vents beneath the floor. A fire burned in the hearth. Thick furs covered the bed. A tray of food sat untouched on a low table, steam rising gently as if someone believed hunger was her greatest problem.
Two guards stood outside the door.
Not to protect her but to make sure she did not leave.
Mira paced the length of the chamber, bare feet whispering against the stone. Her wrists were no longer chained, but the bond felt heavier than iron. It pressed into her chest with every breath, a constant reminder that her life was no longer hers alone.
She stopped by the narrow window and stared down at the Silverfang stronghold.
The pack moved as one body—wolves training in the yard, healers rushing between halls, elders gathered in tense knots. They were efficient. Disciplined.
Strong.
This was the enemy she had been raised to hate.
Her wolf stirred uneasily, no longer snarling as it once had. That frightened her more than the guards, more than Ryker's calm authority, more than the bond itself.
She did not want to understand them.
Understanding led to doubt.
And doubt would destroy her.
The door opened without warning.
Ryker stepped inside.
He had changed since the council chamber. His armor was gone, replaced by a dark tunic and trousers, his sword left behind. He looked less like an Alpha now and more like a man carrying too much weight.
The door shut behind him.
Mira turned to face him, her spine straight, her chin lifted.
"You shouldn't be here," she said coldly.
"I know," Ryker replied. "But they won't listen to anyone else."
"Then let them do what they want," she snapped. "I don't care."
"That's not true."
She laughed sharply. "You think you know me?"
"No," he said. "But I know desperation."
He moved farther into the room, stopping well short of her. He did not attempt to touch her. That restraint unsettled her more than force ever could.
"The council has decided," he said. "They will not wait thirty days."
Her heart stuttered. "For what?"
"For the ceremony."
The word hit her like a blade.
"No."
"Mira..."
"No," she repeated, louder now. "You promised."
"I promised I would not force you," Ryker said evenly. "They are not bound by my promises."
Her wolf surged, fury and panic twisting together. "You're their Alpha."
"And they are my pack," he replied. "They are afraid. They believe claiming you publicly as my Luna will end the raids, end the unrest."
"I won't be claimed," she said. "Not like that." I can't be your Luna.
"They expect you to submit," Ryker continued, voice tight. "To kneel. To accept my mark."
Her vision went red.
"Kneel?" she whispered. "Before the wolves who cheered when my people burned?"
"That is not..."
"Before the pack that killed my grandmother?"
Ryker flinched.
"You don't know that," he said quietly.
"I know enough."
She backed away until her calves hit the edge of the bed. Her breath came fast, shallow.
"They want to break me," she said. "To turn me into proof of their dominance."
"That is not what I want."
"It doesn't matter what you want," she shot back. "You let them lock me in here."
"For your safety."
"For your control."
Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating.
Ryker exhaled slowly. "If you refuse publicly, they will call you a threat. And threats are dealt with."
Mira's laugh was brittle. "So that's it? Submit or die?"
His jaw tightened. "I'm trying to find another way."
"There isn't one."
She turned, grabbed the heavy dagger resting on the table near the fire. It was ceremonial, its blade etched with Silverfang runes.
Ryker stiffened. "Mira."
She pressed the flat of the blade against her throat—not cutting, but close enough to make her point unmistakable.
The bond exploded.
Pain lanced through Ryker's chest, sharp and blinding. He staggered a step forward, breath tearing from his lungs.
"Don't," he said hoarsely.
Her hands shook, but her eyes were steady.
"I will not kneel," she said. "I will not be claimed. I will not live as your proof of victory."
"Mira," he pleaded now, control cracking. "Put it down."
"If you force me before your pack," she continued, voice trembling but strong, "if you let them touch me, mark me, own me—then I end this myself."
The bond screamed in protest, agony flooding them both.
"You'd kill us both?" Ryker whispered.
"Yes."
The word landed like a final stone.
"I would rather die Nightshade than live Silverfang," she said. "And I swear by the Moon, I will not hesitate."
Ryker dropped to one knee.
Not in submission.
In pain.
The bond tightened brutally, reacting to her intent, to the truth of it. His hands clawed into the stone floor as he fought to breathe.
"Mira… please," he gasped. "You don't understand what you're threatening."
"I understand perfectly."
She lowered the blade just enough to look at him clearly.
"This bond does not own me," she said. "You do not own me. And if the only way to prove that is to die—then so be it."
The door slammed open.
Elders poured in, guards following, the air thick with alarm and fury.
"She's unstable!" one elder barked. "This proves it!"
"End it now," another snarled. "Kill her before she kills him!"
Ryker surged to his feet, a roar tearing from his chest, raw and feral.
"No one touches her!"
The room shook.
Mira felt it then—felt the shift, the subtle change in the bond. Something ancient stirred, something watching.
She smiled sadly at Ryker.
"You see?" she said softly. "This is the only power I have left."
She lifted the blade again.
And the Moonlight through the window flared—too bright, too sudden—casting her shadow across the wall in the shape of something older than any pack.
The seer screamed.
"The Moon has chosen a trial!"
The blade slipped—And the bond snapped into a blinding white blaze as the room vanished.
The Moonlight faded.
Silence crushed the chamber.
An elder stepped forward, voice trembling. "The trial demands judgment. Alpha Ryker must choose—now."
Ryker turned slowly to the pack gathered at the door, his face carved from stone.
"Choose," the elder pressed. "Kill the Nightshade daughter and save your pack… or reject the bond and let the Moon curse Silverfang with famine and madness."
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Mira met Ryker's eyes, steady, unafraid. "Do it," she whispered. "End the war."
Ryker raised his hand.
And pointed—not at Mira, but at his own throat.
Did Mira cross the line between defiance and destiny… or did the Moon Goddess just intervene in the most dangerous way possible?