The grand hall of the rustic lodge feels stifling as I stand here, facing Ethan.

My promised mate.

"Traditions be damned, Ethan!" My voice pierces through the air, echoing off the walls adorned with lunar symbols and pack artifacts.

Everything packed with symbolism. Meaning. And I’m sick of it.

Everything mean to keep me down and perpetuate the ancient traditions of the Blackwood pack.

But I refuse to marry Ethan.

His sharp blue gaze locks onto mine, his eyes blazing with a fire that matches the hearth’s glow in the center of the room, his jaw set in a hard line. "You will respect the ways that have kept us safe for centuries, Lyla," he snarls, the authority in his tone as unyielding as the ancient trees surrounding our home.

We’ve attracted the attention of the other pack members. The door opens at the back of the lodge, and the elders enter, but I ignore them. This is between me and Ethan. I clench my fists at my sides, the tension crackling between us like static electricity.

"Safe? Or stagnant?" I counter, the words bitter on my tongue. "You expect me to blindly follow, to submit to decrees that suffocate my spirit?"

He steps closer, the air between us charged with an intensity that has nothing to do with the argument—or perhaps everything to do with it. I inhale, and against my will, my blood runs hot.

I smell his heat. His body calls to me.

It’s the bond of mates. And I won’t give into it.

"It is not about what I expect," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "It is about what is demanded by the very blood that runs through our veins."

I lift my chin, challenging him as much as I dare.

"Demanded," I spit.

Dammit all. The pull of him is both infuriating and intoxicating, a dance we know too well. As much as I try to resist him, I can’t—not entirely.

I’ve never let him bed me. But I’m not strong enough to ignore the pleasure he offers me. And this argument, like all the others, is simply a prelude to the carnal release we often seek in each other's arms—a temporary balm for the tempest within.

Just because I don’t want to be his mate doesn’t mean I can resist his flesh.

"Enough, Lyla," Ethan warns, his stern gaze never leaving my face. "There are lines you must not cross."

"Lines," I echo, stepping closer until mere inches separate us. "And if those lines were drawn in sand? Would you dare to redraw them, or are you too afraid of what lies beyond?"

"Careful, woman," he growls, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. "My patience has limits."

"Then perhaps it's time those limits were tested." My words are a gauntlet thrown at the feet of an Alpha who has never been defied so openly.

Especially not by me. But the fire in me is growing, and the more Ethan tries to silence me, the more smothered I feel.

It was only a matter of time before I exploded. I’ve been restless since my father died.

Looks like today’s the day.

I should have been named Alpha.

But I’m a she-wolf. So I wasn’t.

The grand lodge's ancient timbers echo with the crackling fire and the low murmur of gathered pack members. My voice slices through the din like a silver blade.

Ethan stands rigid, his muscular frame a bastion of the old ways. "Why do you challenge our foundation? The roles were established in the beginning of time. They maintain the safety and security of our pack."

"Traditions can change," I counter, my stance defiant, chin lifted in challenge. "Strength is not the sole claim of the male wolves. My claws have tasted the blood of our enemies just as yours have, Ethan."

A ripple of murmurs spreads through the room, but I push on, my heart hammering with a cocktail of rage and an inexplicable desire. Even now, with every heated word that passes between us, I can't deny the pull of our primal connection.

"Tell me," I breathe, stepping closer, the scent of pine and earth rising between us, "do you truly believe I am less capable? Or does the thought of me, standing alongside the warriors beneath the moonlight, threaten your precious ego?"

Ethan's eyes narrow, and the energy between us shifts, growing hotter, more intense. His voice drops to a growl. "You know it's not about capability. It's about order, about—"

"Control." I finish for him, my voice a low whisper.

The word hangs between us, and for a moment, so does our restraint. With the space closing in, our breaths mingle, a tangle of shared defiance and longing.

"Perhaps," I taunt, my gaze locked onto his, "you fear what would happen if you saw me in Luna's full embrace, free and unbound."

Ethan's hand shoots out, gripping my arm, pulling me flush against the hard planes of his body. His touch ignites a fire within me that is both furious and hungry. I know I should push him away, assert my independence, but instead, I find myself pressing closer, craving the friction of our anger-fueled passion.

"Be careful, Lyla," he warns, his lips grazing my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Your words tread a dangerous path—one that could lead to consequences you aren't ready to face."

"Then let those consequences come," I whisper back, my resolve unwavering even as my body betrays me, aching for his touch.

Our heated gaze holds. The murmurs of the gathered pack members swell like the tide as I face off with Ethan in the center of the grand lodge. Whispers skitter across the room like leaves caught in an autumn gale, each member torn between the thrill of witnessing rebellion and the fear of its consequences.

Ethan's jaw tightens visibly, his stance rigid against the flickering hearth. “Traditions serve a purpose beyond what your impetuous mind can fathom."

"Ah, purpose," I scoff, my lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Is it the purpose of tradition to stifle?"

A low growl rumbles from Ethan, the sound vibrating through the room.

"Careful, Ethan," I say, throwing his own words back at him, my tone laced with a daring that borders on insolence. "Your growl suggests you might be afraid. Afraid that a she-wolf under Luna's full embrace might outshine the Alpha himself."

Gasps cut through the crowd, and even the Elders exchange uneasy glances, their age-worn faces etched with concern.

The words hang heavy in the air, a declaration of war not just upon the traditions Ethan so fiercely guards, but upon the very notion that the pack can remain unchanged in a world that is constantly evolving.

A snarl rips from Ethan's throat, his control slipping, his powerful frame casting a shadow that seems to swallow the flickering firelight. "You push too far, Lyla. Do not mistake my patience for weakness."

"And do not mistake my defiance for folly," I counter, my voice steady, even as my heart hammers against my ribs. I won’t show him he frightens me. "I will not bend, Ethan. Not for you, not for tradition. I will fight for the right to be more than a shadow in the light of Luna."

The tension between us hums like a live wire, the air thick with unspoken words and unspent energy.

"Enough of this insolence!" Ethan's voice thunders through the lodge, his blue eyes now icy shards that cut through me. "You challenge not only me but the very essence of our existence!"

"Is our essence beyond scrutiny?" I shoot back, my voice laced with scorn. “Like the tribute we make to the Slavers?”

A gasp rises from the elders. His face hardens as he leans toward me. “Do not speak of that which you don’t know.”

“I do know,” I whisper. “And it’s time everyone else did also.”

“Silence!” he roars, but I see the fear flicker behind his eyes.

The pack would rebel if they knew the truth about the Slavers.

“You cannot silence me,” I say, and I let him feel the full weight of my dislike for him.

Ethan's gaze bores into mine, a silent battle of wills that neither of us is willing to concede. And then, with a suddenness that leaves me breathless, he steps back, his expression hardening into a mask of cold resolve.

"Very well," he says, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "If it’s a fight you seek, then a fight you shall have. But know this, Lyla: once the gauntlet is thrown, there is no turning back. The path you tread will be fraught with peril, and the consequences will be yours to bear alone."

His words leave me reeling, slightly off balance. Something is happening, and I’m suddenly not sure I’m ready for it.

"So be it," I reply, masking my fear. "I accept the consequences.”

"Your actions endanger us all." Ethan continues as if I didn’t speak, his tone brokering no argument. "I cannot allow you to fracture the unity of the Blackwood Pack." His jaw clenches, his rugged face a mask of barely contained fury. He lets out a slow exhale. "You leave me no choice." His next words fall like a guillotine blade, swift and merciless. "Lyla Blackwood, you are banished from this pack."