The metallic tang of blood clung to the air, hot and thick, as Luther’s fist slammed again into the warrior’s face. The younger wolf was already limp, the fight long gone from his body, but Luther didn’t stop.

“Alpha—” Cassian’s voice was sharp, panicked. “That’s enough. Luther!”

It took three Betas to haul him off the boy. Luther shook them off violently, chest heaving, eyes wild, knuckles slick with someone else’s blood. His own warrior. His own damn packmate.

The crowd around the practice ring stood frozen, silent, the unease a living thing pulsing in the dirt. Gabrielle stepped forward, pale with fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? You almost killed him!”

Luther didn’t even look at her. His vision was somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t claw himself free from.

It was on Trash slipping from his carefully curated grasp. His tracker was barely holding the thread of her scent because she’d been clever. After all, she’d thought ahead because she’d been planning.

He hadn’t even noticed that she was plotting. He always believed that she knew her place, knew that and accepted that her life was his to control, that she belonged to him. He ignored everything that he should have seen.

Because he’d wanted to believe she wouldn’t try. Because some part of him had wanted her to stay of her own will.

His lip curled, rage biting at his chest. He should’ve chained her in the basement that night of the Elders’ gathering. Should’ve put her where she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe without him knowing. He’d known the evening would stretch long, that he’d be distracted with ceremony and politics, yet he left her unbound. Free enough to slip the leash and try her luck.

He slammed a fist against the wall, stone biting his knuckles.

Stupid. Weak. Careless.

His father’s voice echoed in the back of his skull, a lifetime of warnings about weakness, about letting sentiment undo him. And now here he was, blood boiling, because Trash had gotten away. Because he had been too blind to stop it.

The worst part? She hadn’t trusted him enough to stay. He had seen it in her eyes a hundred times before, but hadn’t forced the truth out of her. He’d let it fester until she bolted.

His jaw locked.

Never again.

If she thought she could slip through his fingers, she was wrong. She belonged to him, and she’d damn well learn that trying to run wasn’t survival. It was suicide.

He gripped the edge of the sink and stared into the cracked mirror, his reflection fractured and warped. What stared back wasn’t the Alpha the pack needed, or the man she needed. It was something darker, something too close to what she already believed him to be.

And still, he couldn’t shake the truth gnawing at him. She ran because he hadn’t given her a reason to stay.

“I’m going to find you,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes burning. “And I’ll make sure you never run again. I’ll make you see me; you’ll be the only one.”

The stone clearing was packed, the weight of tradition pressing down with the setting sun. The Circle stood in full formation, warriors and elders shoulder to shoulder, their silence thick with anticipation. At the centre stood Luther, shoulders squared, jaw set. He hadn’t spoken since dawn.

His father, tall and still imposing despite the silver streaking his beard, stepped forward. “Today we witness the rise of our future,” he announced, voice booming. “My son, Luther, blood of my blood, has proven strength, dominance, and command. The mantle of Alpha passes to him, not only by lineage, but by force of will.”

A murmur of approval moved through the crowd.

The full moon hung low and swollen in the sky, casting a silver glow over the gathered pack. Flames crackled in braziers lining the stone circle, their light flickering across watching faces, some eager, some wary.

Luther stood at the centre, flanked by his parents and the high elders. His posture was rigid. Controlled. Every breath felt like a stone in his chest.

“And with him, his Luna,” his father declared, voice booming through the still night.

Gabrielle stepped forward, wrapped in ceremonial silver and white, hair braided with strands of moon-thread. Her smile was flawless. Practised. Victorious.

“Our pack will have continued stability, growth and will flourish under my son.”

Luther didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Gabrielle, meeting her eyes. He forced a small, reverent nod.

“I accept, Luther Morgrave of the Morgrave pack accept you, Gabrielle Fenrir, as my Luna,” he said, voice even. It didn’t add more, didn’t add mate, nor the bond.

The pack howled and cheered. Gabrielle’s face, however, was different; it wasn’t joy. It was confusion. Hesitation because something in his tone didn’t sit right.

But as the pack turned to face her, Gabrielle’s face lit up. She stepped forward like a queen ascending a throne.

She voiced her acceptance. When she tilted her head to expose her neck, he moved in. Slowly. Deliberately. He dipped his head and sank his fangs into her flesh not deeply, not the way instinct would demand, but just enough to leave a mark. The symbol of a bond.

Gabrielle gasped softly, fingers curling into his sleeve as if to claim him before the pack.

But Luther’s face was unreadable.

He licked the wound to seal it and stepped back.

The circle erupted into applause. Elders smiled. His mother wept in relief. His father looked proud.

Gabrielle moved closer, ready to complete the bond to mark him in return. The final step.

He offered his neck. Bent slightly. Obedient.

She bit him.

And he stood there, motionless, playing the part while a cold fire burned in his chest.

Her mark took, faintly warming the skin.

But inside? It meant nothing.

Because the bond didn’t sing. Not to him.

Only one bond ever had, and she was out there, alone, terrified, thinking he’d chosen someone else.

But he hadn’t. He never would.

As the pack celebrated around them, Luther looked out at the woods. Past the trees. Past the cheering.

He was going to find her.

His wolf had gone silent the moment she disappeared. But now, it stirred again, restless beneath his skin.

He stepped down from the stone podium, his boots silent against the ancient ground. The voices behind him faded into nothing. The only thing that mattered now was what came next.

Finding her.

Finding what was his.

His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless, hungry, locked onto a single truth.

She ran because we didn’t break her enough. Now we bring her home, and she can never leave again.

The war room was dim; the table was lit only by the soft golden glow of a single overhead bulb. A large topographic map of the surrounding lands was spread across the surface, covered in scent markers, pins, and scrawled notes. The air was thick with tension.

Luther stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap.

Cassian pointed to a red mark just south of the waterfall’s edge. “This is where we lost her scent. Right after she hit the river. We tracked along the current for over a mile, but then it cuts hard north and splits. Too many rocks, too much water. The trail went cold.”

“She couldn’t have gone far with an injury like that,” said Arlen, one of the senior trackers. “There was blood in the water, fresh, not hers from earlier. Something reopened when she shifted, I’d bet on it.”

“She’s not dead.” Luther’s voice was steel. “I would feel it. She’s alive.”

Cassian nodded slowly, glancing down at the map, then back at Luther. “And what about Gabrielle?”

Luther didn’t look at him. “What about her?”

“You’re supposed to be bonded,” Cassian pressed. “Everyone was expecting her to be your Luna.”

Luther’s fists clenched. “And she is. You were at the ceremony.”

Cassian hesitated. “What happens when you bring Trash back?”

“I chain her to me.” Luther’s voice lowered, rougher now. “Gabrielle will have to deal with it.”

He trailed off, eyes locked on the red marker like it might bleed.

“She doesn’t know the world outside the pack walls. She’s scared, bleeding, and running blind.”

Silence.

“I want her back.” Luther’s voice was rough and bitter. “She doesn’t belong out there. She belongs with me.”

“You’ll get her back,” Cassian said, more statement than question.

“I better.”

Arlen cleared his throat. “If she stayed with the current, there's a ravine that cuts east, it’s isolated and unguarded. Only locals know the caves. If she found shelter there, she could be hiding for days without us getting a whiff.”

Cassian added, “If she’s thinking survival, she’ll stay near water but away from open space. Somewhere she can see us coming.”

Luther nodded slowly, fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “Split the teams. I want patrols along the east ravine, the twin pines, and the old hunting dens. Quiet search. No running her down. No scaring her out.”

“And if Merek finds her first?” Arlen asked.

Luther’s eyes flicked up cold and lethal.

“Then Merek won’t live to take another step.”

Cassian exhaled. “And if you do find her… what then?”

“I bring her back,” Luther said, softer now, something pained in his voice. “Then I make sure she never leaves me again.”

Cassian nodded, reading the truth behind his Alpha’s eyes. He said nothing more and turned to leave.

The men moved. The meeting dissolved. Only Luther remained at the table, staring down at the map at that red dot by the water.

She’d rather risk death than be with him.

But she hadn’t died.

And that meant he still had a chance to become someone worth staying for.