The cold seeped through the thin fabric of Aurora's dress, biting into her skin like a thousand tiny needles. She hugged her arms tighter, but it did little to chase away the chill that had taken root deep in her bones. The pack hall blazed with warmth and light, laughter spilling out through the grand oak doors, but she stood outside in the shadows—where she always belonged.
Tonight was her eighteenth birthday.
Tonight, she would finally know if Damon Blackwood, the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, would accept her as his fated mate.
Her heart thundered against her ribs, a wild, desperate rhythm that matched the wind howling through the ancient pines surrounding the pack grounds. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, trying to calm herself. He will accept me. He has to. The Moon Goddess wouldn't be so cruel.
But even as she thought it, a small, bitter voice whispered in the back of her mind: Why would he want you? You're nothing. An orphan. An omega. A burden he's been forced to tolerate.
Aurora squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the voice away. She had spent eighteen years being told she was worthless, but tonight—tonight she would prove them all wrong. The Moon Goddess had chosen her to be Damon's mate. That had to mean something. It had to mean she was meant for more than scrubbing floors and being ignored.
She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress—a simple, faded blue thing that had once belonged to the pack's Beta's daughter. It was too short and too tight, but it was the nicest thing she owned. She had borrowed a brush from the kitchen maid and spent an hour taming her wild chestnut curls until they fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her gray eyes—usually dull and lifeless—seemed to catch the moonlight, shimmering with a fragile hope she couldn't quite extinguish.
Please. Please let him see me.
The pack hall doors swung open, and a wave of noise and warmth washed over her. Pack members streamed out, their voices loud and bright with excitement. The ceremony was about to begin.
Aurora slipped inside, hugging the walls as she always did. The hall was magnificent—tall stone pillars draped in ivy and twinkling fairy lights, massive chandeliers casting golden light over the gathered wolves. The Blackwood Pack was one of the strongest in the region, and their celebrations reflected that power. Tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, and overflowing goblets of wine. Wolves danced and laughed, their eyes bright with joy.
And at the center of it all, standing on the raised dais like a god among mortals, was Damon Blackwood.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He was magnificent. His jet-black hair was swept back from his angular face, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes—the color of aged whiskey—scanned the crowd with an air of bored authority. He wore a dark tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered waist, and even from across the room, she could feel the raw power radiating off him.
He was twenty-four, the youngest Alpha in the region's history, and he had led the pack with ruthless efficiency since his father's death three years ago. Under his rule, the Blackwood Pack had grown stronger, wealthier, and more feared.
He was everything she wasn't.
And he was her mate.
Aurora's heart swelled with a desperate, aching hope. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the whispers that followed her.
"Is that Aurora?"
"What's she doing here?"
"Does she actually think he'll accept her?"
Her cheeks burned, but she kept her chin high. She reached the edge of the dais, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric of her dress. Damon hadn't noticed her yet. He was speaking with his Beta, Marcus, his face unreadable.
Then Marcus leaned in and murmured something in Damon's ear.
Damon's gaze shifted.
And landed on her.
Time seemed to stop. His whiskey-colored eyes locked onto hers, and for one fleeting, beautiful moment, Aurora dared to believe she saw something soft in them—something like wonder.
Then his expression hardened.
Damon's jaw tightened, and he turned away, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a gnat buzzing around his head.
Aurora's heart cracked. But she refused to give up. She took a shaky step forward, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Damon... please. The ceremony. We have to—"
"Have to what?" His voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and sharp. The crowd around them fell silent, sensing the tension. "We have to perform the ceremony? We have to acknowledge that the Moon Goddess made a mistake?"
Aurora flinched as if he had struck her. "A... a mistake?"
Damon stepped down from the dais, his movements predatory, unhurried. He prowled toward her, and the crowd parted like water around a stone. Aurora stood frozen, her heart hammering, her hands shaking.
He stopped inches from her, looming over her with all the cold authority of an Alpha who had never been challenged. His scent washed over her—pine and smoke and something darker, something that made her wolf whimper with longing.
"A mistake," he repeated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "You are not my mate, Aurora. You are a stain on my pack. A weak, worthless omega who somehow stumbled into my life and dragged my reputation through the mud."
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "The Moon Goddess chose me. She chose us. You can't—you can't just—"
"I can do whatever I want." Damon's eyes flashed with a hint of gold, his wolf rising close to the surface. "I am Alpha. My word is law. And my word is that I reject you."
The word hit her like a physical blow. She staggered back, her hand flying to her chest as if she could hold her shattered heart together.
"You... you don't mean that." Her voice was broken, trembling. "Damon, please. I know I'm not what you expected. I know I'm not strong or powerful. But I love you. I've loved you my whole life. Please, just give me a chance. I'll do anything to prove myself to you. Anything."
His expression didn't soften. If anything, it grew colder.
"Love?" He laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut deeper than any blade. "You think love matters? Love is weakness. You are weakness. I will not tie myself to an omega who can't even shift. I will not risk my legacy for a mate who would bring shame to my bloodline."
Aurora's tears finally spilled over, tracking hot paths down her frozen cheeks. "I can learn. I can get stronger. Just give me—"
"The ceremony is canceled."
The words fell like stones, crushing whatever hope she had left. Around them, the pack murmured and whispered, some with pity, others with barely concealed glee.
Aurora looked around, searching for even one friendly face. She found none. The pack members who had raised her, ignored her, tolerated her—they watched with cold indifference. No one stepped forward to defend her. No one spoke a kind word.
She was completely and utterly alone.
"Damon, please." Her voice was so small, so fragile. "I have nowhere else to go. If you reject me, I'll be cast out. I'll die out there."
"Then die."
The words were flat. Emotionless. He turned his back on her and walked away, dismissing her as if she were already dead.
Aurora's knees buckled. She collapsed to the stone floor, her hands scraping against the rough surface, her sobs tearing from her throat like wounded animals. The world swam around her, the lights blurring into a sea of gold and shadow.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched, looking up through tear-blurred eyes. It was Marcus, Damon's Beta. His face was tight, his eyes avoiding hers.
"I'm sorry, Aurora," he said quietly. "But the Alpha has spoken. You need to leave. Now."
"Where am I supposed to go?" she whispered.
Marcus's jaw tightened. "That's not my concern."
She stared at him, searching for even a spark of compassion. She found none. He was just following orders, like he always did. Like everyone did.
Aurora slowly pulled herself to her feet, her body trembling with exhaustion and grief. She looked at Damon one last time. He had returned to his seat on the dais, his face utterly unreadable. He didn't look at her. He didn't acknowledge her existence.
Her wolf howled inside her, a broken, anguished sound that echoed in the hollow spaces of her soul. The mate bond—the sacred, unbreakable bond that should have tied them together—snapped like a frayed rope.
Pain exploded behind her eyes, and she gasped, clutching her head. It felt like something inside her was being ripped apart, torn from its moorings and cast into the void. She screamed, a raw, animal sound that made the pack members around her flinch.
But no one helped her.
No one ever helped her.
The forest swallowed her whole.
Aurora stumbled through the darkness, branches scraping her arms and face, her torn dress offering no protection against the biting cold. The moon hung overhead, fat and merciless, illuminating the path ahead with cruel clarity.
She had no idea where she was going. She had no money, no supplies, no plan. All she had was the burning pain in her chest and the echo of Damon's voice in her ears.
Then die.
