The night before the ceremony arrived without warning, the stronghold felt tight, as if the walls had drawn closer overnight. Wolves moved with forced calm; conversations stopped when Mira entered a room, and glances lingered too long before sliding away. She had expected fear; she had not expected the silence. By late evening, she stood in her chamber staring at the fire that burnt low in the hearth. The rite of conditional binding waited in her mind like a sharpened blade; she had rehearsed the words she would speak before the pack, calculated the reactions of each elder, and prepared herself for resistance.
What she had not prepared for was the ache beneath her ribs.
The bond pulsed, not urgent and not demanding, but it unsettled her. A knock sounded against her door, and she knew who
