Malrik had known the moment she woke.
Moonmarked power didn't flare like fire.
It listened first.
The forest had whispered her name long before Draven tore his pack apart searching for her. Long before the elders panicked. Long before the bond screamed loud enough for fools to hear.
Malrik felt her like a bruise under his skin.
Not possession.
Potential.
He approached the cave without masking his presence. Hiding implied fear—and he wanted her to understand one thing immediately.
He was not afraid of her.
The male guarding her sensed him too. Rowan. Old magic. Loyal in a way that would get him killed eventually.
Malrik stepped into the clearing slowly, hands relaxed, power coiled tight and polite beneath his skin.
She was smaller than he expected.
Wrapped in furs, shoulders tense, eyes too large for her face—but sharp. Awake. Watching him with a wariness that made something dark and approving stir in his chest.
Good, he thought. She hasn't broken.
He let Rowan snarl and threaten. Let him posture.
His attention stayed on her.
She felt him looking—not like Draven had. Not weighing her worth. Not claiming.
He studied her like a riddle worth solving.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet but steady. Why are you here?
Malrik smiled inwardly.
Straight to the truth. No false courage.
"I came to see if the Moon made a mistake," he told her honestly.
It hadn't.
He felt it when her wolf stirred—not submissive, not desperate. Curious. Testing him the way she herself was.
When Rowan accused him of waiting, Malrik didn't deny it.
Waiting was power.
Waiting meant choice.
He watched Elara carefully as he spoke of Draven—not cruelly, not vindictively. Just enough truth to loosen the knife already lodged in her heart.
The bond reacted immediately.
Ah.
There it was.
Pain sharp enough to taste.
Malrik felt it ripple through the air—not from her magic, but from the bond itself. Strained. Stretched thin.
Draven had damaged it.
Irreparably, perhaps.
You idiot, Malrik thought, almost fondly. You never deserved her.
When he offered her a choice, he kept his distance.
That was the most important part.
Predators chased.
Kings waited.
He did not touch her. Did not lean close. Did not lower his voice.
He let her imagine it herself.
Her reaction told him everything.
Her breath changed.
Her wolf leaned forward.
Her eyes darkened—not with desire, but with consideration.
Dangerous.
Rowan glared like Malrik had already marked her.
But Elara—
Elara looked like someone standing on the edge of a different life.
When she said she didn't trust him, Malrik nearly laughed.
"Good," he told her.
Trust was earned. Obedience was cheap.
He left her the vial deliberately. Not a gift—an option.
Power respected options.
As he turned away, he felt the bond scream across the distance.
Draven.
Panicking.
Malrik smiled then—slow and sharp.
Feel it, he thought. Feel what it's like to lose control.
He vanished into the trees, senses alive with satisfaction.
Behind him, the Moonmarked female stood between two paths.
One led back to the Alpha who broke her.
The other—
Malrik inhaled deeply, savoring the cold night air.
The other would make her dangerous.
And he was patient enough to wait for her to choose it.
Far away, Alpha Draven staggered as the bond twisted violently, something new bleeding through it.
Not pain.
Not rage.
Competition.
Malrik's smile widened in the dark.