Chapter 29 — The Moon Overhead
The full moon shone somewhere high above her, its silvery pull brushing against her skin like a ghost. Giselle couldn’t see it—not from where she sat—but she felt it. It tugged at her wolf, agitating the creature just beneath her skin, reminding her of all the things she was missing.
Freedom. Moonlight. Her mate.
The stone floor was cool against her legs where she sat cross-legged near the cell’s narrow window. It wasn’t large enough to climb through or even properly see out of, but a sliver of moonlight sliced through the bars, painting a pale line across the floor like a wound that refused to close.
Above her, the pack was gathering.
The air carried faint murmurs—footsteps echoing off stone, voices rising in anticipation, the low hum of a crowd settling. And somewhere in that gathering, Rowan stood. Her mate.
A knot formed in her throat.
‘What are they saying?’ she wondered. ‘What are they doing?’
She didn’t need to ask. She already knew. They were announcing the beginning of the end.
Her wolf stirred inside her, pacing with unease. ‘They’re going to announce it, Giselle. His intention to mate Rhea. You heard Rhea’s warning. You felt the tension building all week.’
Giselle clenched her jaw. ‘I know.’
‘We should be up there,’ her wolf growled. ‘Not hidden away like a danger to the pack. We’re not a threat—we’ve saved them!’
“I know!” Giselle snapped aloud, then closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe.
The iron bars of the cell seemed to close in around her, tighter with each passing second. For a week, she’d paced these walls, replayed her every action. The choice to go for that run. The decision to step into that fight. Her instincts had led her there—instincts and heart.
And yet, that had been the nail in her coffin.
She pressed a hand to her chest, over the spot where her mate bond thrummed quietly, stubbornly alive even now. Rowan hadn’t marked her. The Elders wouldn’t allow it. But she felt it still—the invisible tether that bound them. His energy was quieter tonight. Heavy. Strained.
That scared her more than anything.
‘You need to trust him,’ her wolf whispered. ‘He won’t give up on you. Not tonight. Not ever.’
“But what if he’s forced to?” she murmured, her voice breaking. “What if this time… he can’t protect me?”
There was no response. Her wolf receded, ears flattened and tail tucked, retreating into herself. Even she didn’t have an answer for that.
Footsteps echoed down the stone corridor.
Giselle scrambled to her feet, heart suddenly racing, hope and dread twisting violently inside her. For one wild second, she thought it might be Rowan—that he’d stormed the dungeons to pull her out, to defy them all and claim her publicly.
But it was only the guard. He didn't stop, just passed by with a glance, continuing on his route. The moment he was gone, Giselle sagged back against the wall.
She rubbed her arms as the moonlight stretched slowly across the floor, rising inch by inch. Time was passing. The announcement had likely already begun.
Upstairs, Rowan might be standing before the pack, Rhea at his side, the Elders watching with smug satisfaction.
He might already be saying the words. “I intend to take Rhea as my Luna.”
Her stomach turned.
She couldn’t even blame Rhea. The woman had visited her, offered kindness when no one else would. She’d tried to warn her. She’d been honest.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.
She’d survived far worse than this. Hunger. Fear. The cold bite of betrayal. But this—the idea that the Moon Goddess had fated her to a man she could never have—that cut deeper than any rogue’s claws.
Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet felt unsteady.
The air vibrated faintly, as if from a distant howl. She looked up toward the barred window again, heart thudding in her ears.
‘Rowan,’ she thought. ‘Please… don’t say the words.’
The moon continued its silent ascent, casting her small, dark cell in a pale glow.
And Giselle waited—trapped between hope and heartbreak—bracing for a future that could shatter her either way.
The sound of soft footsteps pulled her upright on her cot.
Her heart seized in her chest.
Someone was approaching.
A flicker of movement at the far end of the corridor caught her attention, barely visible in the dim light cast from a single lantern near the stairs. The guard never came this quietly. This wasn’t one of the patrols. This was—
A woman stepped into view.
Tall and draped in a dark cloak, her hood was drawn low over her brow, casting her features in shadow. She stopped in front of the cell without a word, her presence calm but unwavering.
Giselle stood slowly, her instincts screaming caution even as something inside her pulled her closer to the bars.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice rough from disuse.
The woman reached up and pulled her hood back.
She was striking. Not traditionally beautiful, but strong—with sharp cheekbones and a knowing glint in her pale eyes. Her long, silver-streaked hair hung in a braid down her back, and something about her… felt ancient. Power hummed beneath her skin, quiet but sure.
“I’m here on Rowan’s behalf,” the woman said, voice smooth but firm. “He sent me to get you out.”
Giselle’s blood went cold.
“What? Why would he—?” She paused. “Why didn’t he come himself?”
The woman’s lips quirked into something between a smirk and a grimace. “The Elders are watching every move he makes. He couldn’t risk it. But time is running short. If you want out of here before the morning, you need to come with me. Now.”
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