Chapter 62

*Selene’s POV*

How utterly perfect.

That bitch is finally getting what’s coming to her.

The sight of her—stripped of her title, exiled in shame—floods my chest with a savage thrill. It’s poetic in a way. Almost sacred. I slide my phone from my coat and hit record, steady hands capturing every second of her disgrace. My mate will be ecstatic when he sees this. His obsession with her—the White Wolf, the goddesses eyes and ears of this world—has developed a dark void in me that threatens to swallow me whole.

And yet, part of me recoils. Because I know this recording will reignite his hunger for her. He’ll chase after her again, mad with lust for what she represents—power, control, legacy. It makes my skin crawl. He doesn’t love her—no, I know him too well for that. But her title? Her lineage? That’s a different beast entirely. He wants her as a weapon. As a crown. As something to mount and conquer.

Surprisingly, I was relieved when she escaped the blood moon ritual.. That night however only deepened my hatred. She was nearly bound—soul and spirit—to the mate that should’ve been mine. That ritual would have sealed it. That thought alone stoked a bloodlust I haven’t been able to smother since.

I hit send, but not to him. Of course not. I’m not trusted with his number, not anymore. I send the footage to his second-in-command instead, bitterness thick on my tongue. Within seconds, my phone vibrates.

“What happened?”

I thumb out a quick response, jaw tight.

“The rebels and some of the alphas stopped the succession. She was exiled in exchange for her family’s safety.”

Another pause.

“Interesting. The Alpha will be pleased to know this. Follow her. Update me on where she goes.”

Just like that. No thanks. No acknowledgment. Just an order.

Damn it.

That’s the last thing I want to do—tail her like some desperate shadow. But I know better than to disobey. I slip the phone away and adjust my hood, melting into the crowd like smoke. The noise of the failed ceremony still lingers in the air—shouting, whispers, disbelief. No one notices me. No one ever does when I don't want them to.

I keep to the edges, weaving through the shifting bodies with ease. My boots find silent footing over the stone steps as I follow her descent down the mountain path. Her pace is unsteady, pride trying to keep her spine straight while everything else in her is unraveling.

She doesn’t even look back. She doesn’t know I’m here.

Good.

Because when I get my chance, ill kill her myself.

*Athena’s POV*

I make my descent down the mountain as planned, slipping between shadows as I leave the weight of the crumbling ceremony behind. When I reach the forest's edge, I allow the shift to take me.

My bones crack and reform in a familiar symphony, fur spilling across my skin like a second breath. In moments, my human form is gone, and the wolf—the real me—emerges. Powerful. Swift. Free.

Paws dig into the damp earth as I surge forward, muscle and instinct guiding me through the trees. The forest blurs past in a rush of wind and moonlight. What would’ve been a two-hour car ride is a fleeting run in this form. The wind howls in my ears, but it cannot drown out the storm inside me.

Eventually, the trees thin, and through the veil of pine and mist, I see it.

The lake house.

Tucked deep in the woods, shrouded in solitude. A place Celeste and I once promised to spend long, warm summers—laughing, resting, pretending the world beyond didn’t exist. Now it’s just a hiding place. A memory.

I shift back before stepping onto the porch, pain flaring briefly as my limbs rearrange. The cold night air kisses bare skin, and I hurry inside, wincing as my feet touch the cool wooden floors. The house is quiet, untouched. Familiar.

In the small hallway closet, I find the stash of clothes we left here months ago. I tug on a pair of mint-colored fleece bottoms and a plain grey T-shirt—loose, soft, comforting in its simplicity. It smells faintly of summer and lavender detergent.

The silence is thick, only broken by the low hum of the fridge and the occasional groan of old wood. I move to the kitchen, hands still trembling slightly, and make myself a mug of coffee, though I already know I won’t sleep. My nerves are strung too tight for that. Too much has changed.

Cradling the mug between my palms, I walk out onto the balcony. The night is quiet. The lake stretches out before me, smooth and black under the silver gaze of the moon. Everything looks frozen in place, like time itself is holding its breath.

I sit.

Technically, I’m no longer part of any pack. No title. No name. No home. Just an exiled wolf with too much history and not enough future. Somewhere, just a few miles beyond the treeline, the warriors of Lunar, Midnight Moon, and Evergreen packs are waiting. Biding their time. Ready to strike when the rogues reveal themselves.

Assuming, of course, that the spy already reported my “exile.”

I breathe in the stillness, trying to steady the storm inside. And then—there it is.

A shift in the air.

A whisper of movement behind me.

A soft thud against the floorboards.

I turn my head, already knowing who it is.

He stands there, wings slightly unfurled, arms open, eyes filled with that quiet devotion I’ve come to crave. My mate. My sanctuary.

I don’t hesitate.

I set my mug down and run straight into his arms, burying myself in his warmth. He wraps his wings around me as if to shield me from everything that hunts me. I feel the lift of my feet as he carries me back to the chair where I’d been sitting. He doesn’t let go. I don’t want him to.

“Did Freya complete the spell?” I ask, breathless.

He nods, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “Yes. I found her on my way to you. No one will know I’m here.”

I exhale deeply, sinking into his embrace, finally allowing my body to relax. His scent surrounds me—earthy forest, calming eucalyptus... and something else. A subtle, new note woven into the familiar: spearmint. Sharper. Sweeter. Somehow more intoxicating.

I close my eyes and breathe him in.

Even the air feels safer now.

“Everything went as planned,” I whisper, voice thick. “But seeing them… all those wolves, their eyes filled with hatred just because I’m a woman…” My throat tightens. “It makes me sick.”

A pause.

“And what if… what if the real ceremony ends the same way?”

Tears prick at my eyes, hot and unwanted.

His arms tighten around me, voice steady and low.

“I won’t lie to you. It might happen again. They’re not just resisting a female Alpha—they’re terrified of what that means. For generations, power has belonged to men. In the werewolf, Lycan, vampire realms—it’s always been the same. Even as women gain ground in councils, courts, and command, the one role they haven’t surrendered is Alpha.”

He runs his fingers through my hair, gently, like it grounds him as much as it does me.

“If you take that title, truly take it… they’ll have no choice but to admit the truth. That women aren’t just equals. They’re stronger. Smarter. And that terrifies them.”

I blink, letting his words settle over my heart like snow—soft, cold, and slow to melt.

Maybe I am just a piece on the board. Another pawn trying to follow the path that was written for me long before I was even born. I’ve never wanted power for myself. Only to honor Artemis. To fulfill the fate laid at my feet. Why does the world fight so hard to keep me from it?

What gives them the right to question the will of a goddess?

My chest aches with the unfairness of it all, but I force the feeling down.

There’s no room for it now. No time.

All I can do is focus on the mission. If taking down the rogues is the only way to earn respect—to force them to see me for who I am, not what I lack—then so be it.

I shift slightly in his lap, the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear lulling me. The night is still, moonlight cover around us like a second skin.

His fingers trace idle circles on my back as I begin to drift.

To the sound of his heartbeat, I finally let myself rest.