Timing, my father always said, is everything in battle. Choose your moment carefully, strike when they least expect it, and never hesitate once you’ve committed to action.

All words to live by. Easier said than done when I’m alone, my wolves spread thin trying to accommodate our guests.

The full moon celebration provides the perfect cover. Music and laughter spill from the great hall as wolves dance and feast, the air thick with wine and revelry. Through our bonds, I can feel my mates’ different reactions to the chaos—Alaric’s careful monitoring of the celebrations, Kian’s battle-ready tension as he supervises security, Lucas’s genuine enjoyment of the festivities. All distracted, some more than others.

None of them are watching me. Not closely enough, anyway. It’s now or never.

I stand on my private balcony, letting the cool night air settle my nerves. Two weeks of careful observation, of testing my powers in secret, has led to this moment. My pack of supplies is already hidden in the grove where they’d marked me—a fitting place to begin my bid for freedom.

Reaching for the silver power thrumming beneath my skin, I carefully begin masking my presence. Not completely—that would alert them immediately. Instead, I mute my emotions through the bonds, projecting the same mild contentment I’ve cultivated these past weeks. Let them think I am simply enjoying the quiet night air.

A knock at my door makes me freeze. Careful, Lara.

“Luna?” Lisa, one of my handmaidens, calls softly. “Alpha Alaric requests your presence at the festivities.”

Of course he does. The Kings have been careful to never leave me alone too long, especially during celebrations when escape would be easier. Time to put my acting skills to use.

I open the door, letting her see my tired smile. “I’m not feeling well,” I say, touching my temple. “The noise... would you tell them I need to rest?”

Lisa’s face softens with sympathy. Even after the marking, some wolves still believe the restoration of my power has left lingering weakness. I’ve carefully cultivated that impression, letting them see occasional moments of fatigue or pain. Anything to lessen the expectation that I’ll show any sign of resistance to my three mates.

“Of course, Luna. Should I send for the healer?”

I wave her off. “No need. It will pass with sleep.” I press my hand to my stomach in a practiced movement, though truthfully the act of acting sick has more truth than I’d like to admit. I’ve barely eaten today, too excited by the prospect of tonight to enjoy anything more than a cup of tea. “Lisa, wait. Could you make sure no one disturbs me? The full moon makes everything... more intense.”

She nods understanding. Most wolves feel the moon’s pull more strongly during the peak of its cycle. Another convenient excuse. “As you wish, Luna.” She bows and quietly shuts the door, leaving me alone with my heart pounding in my ears.

The moment she leaves, I move into action. The celebration will keep the majority of the pack occupied for hours, but I have to time this perfectly. Too early, and the guard shifts won’t have changed yet. Too late, and my mates might decide to check on me personally.

I change quickly into dark clothing, practical and easy to move in. My hands tremble slightly as I braid back my hair—not from fear, but from anticipation. My wolf is restless, uncertain about leaving our mates, but the silver power sings through my veins with the promise of freedom.

The trick will be maintaining the illusion through the bonds. I’ve discovered I can project false emotions, but it takes intense concentration. One slip, one moment of true feeling breaking through, and they’ll know something is wrong.

Taking a deep breath, I step onto the balcony again. Third floor, north wing, with convenient decorative stonework that will provide handholds. I’ve mapped this route weeks ago, testing each potential grip point during my daily “walks” through the gardens.

The drop to the ground is easy enough—my restored wolf strength makes quick work of the climb. But the moment my feet touch earth, something burns against my skin. I gasp and fight the sudden burst of anxiety threatening to tear my careful control apart.

Warding magic. Of course Alaric would’ve thought of that. He wasn’t going to risk me sneaking out while the castle was crowded with guests. Especially because I’m certain he’ll be the one to figure out it was a distraction in the first place.

There’s no going back. Not without being caught.

I bite back a curse, focusing on maintaining both my scent-masking and the false emotions flowing through the bonds. The wards aren’t meant to trap, just to alert. Which means...

“Going somewhere?”

I spin to find Marcus, one of Alaric’s elite guards, emerging from the shadows. More guards materialize around him, forming a loose circle. Even their scents are dampened, the marks of elite trainees and proud Betas.

Time for plan B.

“Just getting some air,” I say innocently. “The celebrations were a bit overwhelming.”

Marcus’s expression remains neutral, but I see his hand drift to his weapon. “By climbing down the balcony?”

“Purely circumstantial. The north wing was closest.” My smile feels brittle. “Would you believe I’m practicing my emergency evacuation routes?”

“I think,” he says coldly, “you’re attempting to run away.”

I swallow my rising panic, using the frustration of my wolves’ rising anxiety through the bonds to build my own. “On a full moon night? Don’t be silly. I’d never make it to my old territory before I was found.”

He studies me, perhaps sensing the deception. “Come quietly, Luna. Don’t make this worse than it needs to be.”

I let my shoulders slump in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Marcus takes a step forward. “The Kings will understand. The moon affects us all.”

“True.” I smile sadly. “But I don’t think they’ll understand this.”

Before he can react, I unleash the full force of my silver power. The guards stagger as my presence vanishes completely—not just scent and sound, but the very awareness of me as a living being. In that moment of confusion, I strike.

The first two guards go down before they realize what’s happening. Marcus recovers faster, but years of training with my father have taught me how to fight larger opponents. I use his own momentum against him, sending him crashing into another guard.

Surprise is the only advantage I’ll have, so I use it ruthlessly. Around me, the world blurs into flashes of limbs and teeth, my vision redlined on battle clarity.

More wolves pour from the shadows—Alaric’s contingency plan for exactly this scenario. But I’ve prepared for that too.

Without breaking stride, I pull the silver power tighter around me like a cloak and sprint for the gardens. The guards’ shouts fade behind me as I weave through the carefully maintained paths, taking the route I’ve memorized through weeks of innocent morning walks.

My chest heaves as I shove back the rising tide of guilt. Nothing I’ve done tonight has actually hurt my new pack. Sure, Marcus and a few others might have a headache in the morning, but nobody is irreparably injured. None of the wards were damaged, and no permanent harm has come to anyone. By the time my Kings’ wolves catch up, they’ll find an empty garden and a confused set of guards.

An alarm howl splits the night. Through the bonds, I feel the exact moment my mates realize something is wrong. Their confusion turns to fury as they spot the unconscious guards, the broken wards, the evidence of my deception.

I run faster.

The forest beyond the gardens is dark and wild, but I’ve studied the maps. Three miles east to the river, then follow it north until I reach the mountain pass. If I can make it that far...

Growls echo through the trees around me. Escape routes. Form a perimeter. Surround and capture. Their command instincts are strong enough to override individual wolves’ hunger for the chase. But not strong enough to overpower the instincts of three mates determined to reclaim their mate.

Moonlight flashes overhead as something massive breaks through the branches. I dodge just as claws rake the air, but then something slams into me from behind, sending us both rolling across the forest floor. I come up fighting, only to freeze at the sight of familiar sapphire eyes.

“Really, little Alpha?” Lucas’s usual playful tone holds an edge of steel. “Did you think we wouldn’t have backup plans for our backup plans?”

I drive my elbow into his solar plexus, breaking his hold. “Actually, I counted on it.”

Rolling to my feet, I sprint in the opposite direction from my planned route. Behind me, Lucas’s curse holds genuine surprise. Good. Let them chase shadows while I take the western path instead.

More howls fill the night as the entire pack joins the hunt. I push myself harder, letting the silver power flow through my muscles. I’ve discovered it enhances my speed, my strength, even my ability to process multiple threats at once.

An arrow whistles past my ear—Kian’s hunters, right on schedule. I dive into a roll, coming up behind a massive oak tree. Three more arrows thud into the bark.

“Enough games,” Alaric’s voice carries through the darkness, heavy with Alpha command. “Come out, Lara.”

I bite my lip until I taste blood, using the pain to focus. Have to maintain the mask, have to keep my true emotions hidden, have to...

“Found you,” Kian growls from directly behind me.

I spin, but he’s faster. Massive hands catch my shoulders, slamming me back against the tree. Through the bonds, his triumph mixes with fury and something darker, more primal.

“Did you really think you could outrun us?” he demands.

“No.” I smile, letting my power flare. “I thought I could outlast you.”

His eyes widen as my presence vanishes completely—not just from his physical senses, but from the bonds themselves. In that moment of shock, I slip from his grasp like smoke through fingers.

More guards converge on our location, but I’m already running. My lungs burn as I push myself to my absolute limits. Just have to make it to the western ridge. Just have to...

“Enough!”

Alaric’s roar shakes the forest itself, raw Alpha power rolling through the trees like a tidal wave. Lesser wolves drop to their knees, heads bowed in submission. Even I stagger, my carefully maintained masks cracking under the assault.

For a single heartbeat, my true emotions leak through the bonds—determination, desperation, the bone-deep need to be free.

All three Kings zero in on my location instantly.

“Run,” I whisper to myself, forcing my legs to move. “Run or die trying.”

But I know it is already too late. Their enraged howls fill the night, harmonizing into a single hunting cry that makes my wolf whimper in recognition.

The Kings aren’t just tracking me now.

They are coming to claim what is theirs.

And this time, they won’t be nearly so gentle about it.