Across The Border
The night was thick with shadows, the moon nothing more than a pale scar in the sky.
Aria knew she had strayed too far. Every step dragged her deeper into enemy land the territory of the BlackClaw Pack, the one place her mother had sworn her never to go.
The air here was heavier, filled with the scent of pine, iron… and blood.
She bent low, brushing her fingers against the herbs she had risked everything to find for her sick friend, when a sound split the silence a low, guttural growl.
Close.
Too close.
Her wolf stirred restlessly in her chest. Run.
Before she could move, shadows burst from the trees. Men with glowing eyes, the jagged claw-mark insignia carved into their arms “BlackClaw warriors.”
One sniffed the air, his gaze narrowing on her shoulder.
“The mark,” he hissed. “SilverMoon.”
Her blood ran cold. The crescent birthmark curling across her skin betrayed her instantly.
Rough hands seized her arms. She struggled, heart hammering, but their grip was iron. Then a shock ripped through her, violent and electric. Her breath caught as her wolf clawed against her ribs, screaming one word:
“Mate.”
And when her gaze locked on him tall, broad-shouldered, eyes like molten gold, she froze.
Alpha Damien BlackClaw.
Her pack’s sworn enemy.
Her fated mate.
The corner of his mouth twisted cruelly.
“Of all the curses the Moon Goddess could give me,” he growled, voice low and lethal, “she ties me to a SilverMoon.”
Aria’s pulse pounded. The bond burned through her veins, searing and wild, but his gaze held no warmth only hatred wrapped in desire.
And in that moment, she understood:
Fate had not blessed her. It had damned her.
***************
Her knees hit the dirt as Damien shoved her away. The scent of him lingered dark, wild, intoxicating. She hated it. She hated him.
But her wolf howled inside her, desperate to close the space between them.
Damien’s golden eyes burned like fire as he turned to his men.
“Chain her. Bring her to the stronghold.”
“Alpha…she’s a SilverMoon. Their law…”
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
The men moved. Iron cuffs bit into her wrists as they dragged her through the forest. She stumbled, refusing to let them see her break.
Through the trees rose the BlackClaw fortress jagged stone walls, spiked gates, and torchlight flickering against bloodstained ground.
“SilverMoon scum,” one spat.
“Kill her before she poisons the air,” another sneered.
Aria lifted her chin. Don’t let them smell your fear.
Then Damien stepped into the yard, silence falling like a blade.
“She crossed the border,” a warrior said. “We should gut her now.”
“No,” Damien’s voice rolled like thunder. “She’s mine.”
The pack erupted in murmurs, but no one dared defy him.
“Take her to the dungeons. Chain her where she belongs.”
They dragged her below the fortress damp air, dripping walls, rust and earth in her lungs. She hit the stone floor hard.
“Enjoy the hospitality,” Damien mocked as the door clanged shut.
Aria lifted her chin.
“This cage says more about your fear than my weakness.”
His eyes flickered amusement or warning, she couldn’t tell.
“You think a bond will save you, little wolf?” he murmured. “Bonds can be broken… or burned alive.”
The air between them pulsed. Her heart stuttered as her wolf whispered again, faint but certain:
“He is ours.”
