THE ROGUE KING'S WOLFLESS OMEGA

Elara Vale had imagined her first transformation a thousand times. She had imagined the pain of bones breaking and reshaping, the rush of power filling her veins, and the first triumphant howl tearing from her throat as she met the wolf who had been sleeping inside her since birth. She had imagined white fur. Not the muddy brown of the farmers’ wolves or the silver-gray coat common among Silvercrest warriors. In her dreams, her wolf was as white as fresh snow beneath moonlight. She was enormous, powerful, and so fast that the forest blurred whenever she ran. Her grandfather always said dreams carried pieces of truths the waking mind had forgotten. Standing alone at the center of Silvercrest’s sacred grounds, however, Elara began to wonder whether hers had only been the desperate fantasies of a foolish girl. The full moon had already reached its highest point. Nothing was happening. No bones cracked. No claws emerged. No second heartbeat awakened beneath her own. There was only silence. And the suffocating weight of hundreds of eyes watching her fail. “Concentrate,” High Priestess Mariel instructed. Elara closed her eyes tighter. “I am concentrating.” “You are speaking.” “You spoke to me.” A few muffled laughs rose from the crowd. Elara immediately regretted answering. Her nervousness had loosened her tongue, and the High Priestess was not known for appreciating humor—especially when it came from someone of Elara’s rank. Or lack of rank. “Then stop speaking and listen for your wolf,” Mariel said coldly. “She has lived inside you since the moment you drew your first breath. Call to her.” Elara swallowed. She had been calling for years. When the other children first began hearing their wolves at fourteen, Elara had lain awake every night whispering into the emptiness inside her. Are you there? At fifteen, while Selene boasted about the strength of her wolf, Elara had pressed her hands over her heart and begged. Please say something. At sixteen, when her father began taking her to healers, she had pleaded until tears soaked her pillow. Anything. Growl at me. Insult me. Tell me you hate me. Just let me know I’m not alone. At seventeen, she had stopped begging. Still, she had hoped. Every wolf officially awakened at eighteen. Some heard their wolves early, while others heard nothing until the full moon called them forward. Garrick had assured her that being late did not mean she was broken. But now she was eighteen. The moon was calling. And no one answered. “Elara.” Her father’s warning voice reached her from the edge of the ceremonial circle. Alpha Cassian Vale did not need to shout to make fear crawl down her spine. The shame in his tone was enough. Elara opened her eyes. Her father stood with her mother and sister among the pack’s highest-ranking families. His broad shoulders were stiff beneath his formal black coat. The silver emblem of House Vale—a wolf standing upon a mountain—gleamed over his heart. Once, that emblem had represented honor. Tonight it felt like another pair of eyes judging her. Beside him stood Luna Helena, Elara’s mother in name, if rarely in affection. She was dressed in a flowing blue gown that matched the ceremonial paint surrounding her eyes. Her expression was carefully composed, but Elara recognized the small downward curve of her lips. Disgust. Selene did not bother hiding her smile. Her older sister looked like everything a daughter of House Vale was expected to be. Tall, beautiful, and graceful, with dark hair cascading down her back and golden eyes inherited from their father. Even in human form, Selene carried the predatory elegance of her wolf. She had transformed at eighteen without difficulty. According to the family’s favorite retelling, Selene’s wolf had burst from her body before the High Priestess finished the invocation. She had emerged as a silver beauty, circled the grounds, and bowed before the moon. The pack had celebrated for three days. Elara had helped decorate the banquet hall. Tonight, there would be no banquet. “Call her,” Mariel repeated. “Command her if you must.” Elara drew a breath. Cold night air filled her lungs. She searched inside herself. Past her pounding heart. Past the fear twisting in her stomach. Past every insult she had ever swallowed. Wolf? Nothing. I know you must be frightened. I am too. Silence. But we can be frightened together. A strange warmth flickered deep inside her chest. Elara froze. There. Something was there. It was so faint she might have imagined it—a spark behind a locked door, a breath from the other side of an endless darkness. Hope surged through her. “I feel something.” The crowd stirred. Mariel’s hard expression sharpened with interest. “Do not lose it.” “I’m trying.” Elara reached for the warmth. For one impossible second, she saw a pair of enormous white eyes open within her mind. Not blue. Not silver. White. Pure, brilliant white filled with the light of countless stars. Then an invisible force slammed between them. Elara gasped. The connection shattered. Pain exploded behind her ribs. She fell to her knees, catching herself with both hands as her lungs fought for air. The ceremonial stones were freezing beneath her palms, yet sweat broke across her skin. “Elara?” Mariel asked. The High Priestess sounded uncertain now. Elara pressed one hand against her chest. Something inside her had not merely refused to awaken. It had been dragged away. “I—I saw her.” “What did you see?” “Eyes.” A boy snickered from the crowd. “Wolves usually have those.” Laughter followed. Elara recognized the voice. Riven, the son of one of her father’s commanders. He had spent most of their childhood discovering new ways to torment her without leaving marks visible enough to anger her grandfather. Elara ignored him. “She was there,” she insisted. “I know she was.” Mariel glanced toward Alpha Cassian. Something unspoken passed between them. “How long must we continue?” Cassian asked. Elara looked at him. “Father, please. Just one more—” “You have been standing beneath the moon for nearly an hour.” “I felt her.” “And yet you remain human.” The words struck harder than a fist. Mariel stepped closer and placed two fingers against the pulse beneath Elara’s jaw. Her eyes clouded as she attempted to reach Elara’s wolf through the spiritual bond shared by every member of the pack. Seconds passed. The High Priestess pulled away. Her face told Elara the answer before she spoke. “There is no awakening pulse.” Whispers spread through the sacred grounds. “No wolf?” “Impossible.” “She’s already eighteen.” “Maybe it’s delayed.” “The Alpha’s daughter?” “What kind of future does a wolfless girl have?” Elara slowly rose. Her knees trembled, but she forced them straight. “What does that mean?” she asked. Mariel regarded her with something worse than anger. Pity. “It means I cannot sense a wolf within you.” “There has to be one.” “Elara,” her mother warned. “All werewolves have wolves,” Elara continued. “That is what makes us werewolves. You taught me that.” “Perhaps we should discuss this privately,” Helena said. “Why? Everyone has already decided what I am.” A heavy silence fell. Even Selene’s smile faded slightly. Elara knew she should lower her head. She should apologize for raising her voice and accept whatever explanation the High Priestess gave. She had spent her entire life making herself smaller so others would not be inconvenienced by her existence. Tonight, something inside her refused to shrink. Mariel’s mouth tightened. “There are rare cases of wolves awakening late.” “How late?” “A few days. Sometimes several weeks.” “And if she doesn’t?” Riven called. This time, no one laughed. Mariel looked directly at Elara. “Then she will be classified as wolfless.” The word moved through the gathering like a disease. Wolfless. Among humans, it might have sounded harmless. Among werewolves, it meant unnatural. Incomplete. A creature trapped between species, lacking both the independence of a human and the power of a wolf. Wolfless pack members could not hunt, defend territory, or form complete mate bonds. Most were reduced to servants. Some were driven out before their weakness attracted enemies. There had not been a wolfless child born to an Alpha bloodline in more than two centuries. Until Elara. “No,” Cassian said. For a foolish moment, she thought her father was defending her. Then he stepped into the circle. “My daughter will not be classified after a single failed ceremony. Perform the invocation again.” Mariel’s eyebrows rose. “Alpha—” “Again.” “The moon has already given its answer.” “And I am giving you an order.” The High Priestess’s gaze hardened. She did not belong to House Vale or answer solely to its Alpha. The priestesses served the Moon Goddess first and the pack second. But challenging Cassian before hundreds of wolves would weaken them both. Mariel lifted her silver staff. “Very well.” Elara stared at her father. He still refused to look at her. This was not about faith in his daughter. It was about protecting his reputation. Elara almost laughed. She had wanted him to stand beside her for years. Now that he finally did, she wished he had remained silent. Mariel struck the staff against the ceremonial stone. “Remove your cloak.” Elara obeyed, revealing the simple white dress worn by every wolf during awakening. The thin fabric offered little protection against the cold. She stepped into the silver circle etched into the stone. Around her, the pack fell silent. Mariel began the invocation in the ancient tongue. The words flowed over Elara, older than Silvercrest and every kingdom beyond it. “Child of earth, blood, and moon, release the spirit sleeping within you.” Elara raised her face toward the full moon. “Let bone answer bone.” Nothing. “Let blood answer blood.” Nothing. “Let the hidden soul rise and be known.” Elara searched again. The warmth inside her chest was gone. In its place stood a wall. Tall. Ancient. Unyielding. She pressed against it with everything she had. Please. A distant sound reached her. Not a voice. Chains. Something enormous moved on the other side of the wall, and the chains tightened with a terrible metallic groan. Pain ripped through Elara’s body. She screamed. Silver light flashed beneath her skin. It traveled from her heart to her shoulders, racing down both arms like veins filled with lightning. The ground beneath her feet trembled. Cracks spread through the ceremonial circle. Wolves shouted. Mariel stumbled backward. Cassian seized Helena and pulled her away as several guards shifted into battle forms. Fur and claws erupted around the circle. Elara could not move. She could not breathe. A voice whispered from behind the wall. Not yet. The words were soft, but they carried a power that shook her bones. Who are you? Elara asked. The chains snapped tight. The presence vanished. The silver light died with it. Elara collapsed. For several heartbeats, no one moved. The sacred grounds remained unnaturally silent. Then Selene spoke. “What did she do?” Elara pushed herself onto one elbow. Her vision blurred, but she saw her sister pointing toward the ceremonial stone. The moon-shaped emblem beneath Elara had split in half. “She damaged the altar,” Selene said, her voice trembling with perfectly performed horror. “Father, she destroyed a sacred symbol.” “I didn’t,” Elara whispered. “You were standing on it.” “I don’t know what happened.” “She used something,” Riven said. “Some kind of magic.” “Werewolves do not use magic,” Mariel snapped. Riven lowered his head. “Forgive me, High Priestess.” Mariel approached the broken emblem. She knelt and touched the crack with her fingertips. “What was that light?” Cassian demanded. “I do not know.” “You are the High Priestess.” “And I said I do not know.” Mariel looked at Elara differently now. The pity was gone. In its place was fear. Elara would have preferred the pity. “Did you hear anything?” Mariel asked. Elara hesitated. Not yet. The voice still echoed in her mind. Her grandfather had spent years teaching her that knowledge was power and secrets were shields. If people feared what they did not understand, offering them more mysteries would only sharpen their weapons. “No,” she lied. Mariel studied her face. Elara held her gaze. Finally, the priestess rose. “The ceremony is concluded.” Cassian’s jaw clenched. “And the result?” “There was no transformation.” “I saw that.” “I sensed no wolf.” “What about the light?” “I cannot name what I do not understand.” Cassian’s eyes shifted to Elara. She had seen him furious before, but never like this. The anger in his expression was too controlled, too cold. It promised punishment after the witnesses were gone. Mariel raised her staff. “Until a wolf manifests, Elara Vale will be considered unawakened.” “Unawakened?” someone repeated. “Not wolfless,” Mariel clarified. “Not yet.” It was meant to sound merciful. To Elara, it sounded like a temporary delay before execution. The ceremony ended without music. Families left in whispering groups, glancing back at her as though they expected horns to grow from her head. Some looked disgusted. Others frightened. Most appeared delighted to have a new scandal to discuss. Elara retrieved her cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself. Caelan Thorne stood near the forest path. He had not laughed. That should not have mattered, yet her heart grasped at the small mercy. Caelan had been her closest friend once. Before rank and expectation changed him. Before his father began reminding him that the future Alpha could not waste his time protecting the pack’s weakest girl. At nineteen, Caelan was already taller than most warriors. His black hair fell over the golden eyes that marked the Thorne Alpha line. Although he had not yet inherited his father’s title, wolves naturally moved aside whenever he passed. For one breathless second, his eyes met hers. Something tightened inside Elara’s chest. Not pain. A pull. Warm and deep, it wound around her ribs and tugged her toward him. Caelan stiffened. His hand flew to his heart. Elara forgot the ruined ceremony. She forgot the watching wolves and the cold air freezing her damp skin. The world narrowed to the boy standing beneath the trees. “Caelan?” she whispered. His wolf flashed behind his eyes. Gold swallowed his irises, bright and unmistakable. He felt it too. The bond. Not complete—not without Elara’s wolf—but alive. Her mate. The boy who had once carried her home after she fell from an oak tree. The boy who used to hide honey cakes beneath her window whenever her mother refused to let her join family dinners. The boy who had promised, at ten years old, that if the entire world became cruel to her, he would simply fight the entire world. Her mate was Caelan. Relief broke over her so suddenly that tears burned her eyes. The Moon Goddess had not entirely abandoned her. She took one step toward him. Caelan stepped back. The hope inside her faltered. His face had gone pale. His gaze moved from her to the shattered altar, then toward the warriors still whispering about the Alpha’s wolfless daughter. “Elara,” he said quietly. She waited. He glanced over his shoulder, checking who might be watching. That hurt more than his retreat. “You felt it,” she said. His jaw flexed. “I don’t know what I felt.” “You do.” “You didn’t shift.” “What does that have to do with the bond?” “Everything.” His answer was barely audible. Elara stared at him. “You once told me it wouldn’t matter what kind of wolf I had.” “We were children.” “You told me that last year.” His expression hardened. “Keep your voice down.” “Why?” “Because this isn’t the place.” “There may never be a place where you’re not ashamed of me.” Caelan flinched. For an instant, the boy she remembered appeared behind the future Alpha’s perfect mask. He looked frightened. Then Selene approached. “There you are,” she said, slipping her arm through Caelan’s as though she had every right. “Your father is looking for you.” Caelan immediately pulled away, but not before Elara saw how naturally Selene had touched him. How many times had they stood like that when Elara was not present? Selene turned toward her. “Are you all right, little sister?” The concern in her voice would have fooled anyone who had not grown up beneath the same roof. Elara saw the triumph in her eyes. “I’m fine.” “You collapsed.” “I noticed.” Selene’s smile sharpened. “There is no need to be rude. We are all worried about you.” “No, you aren’t.” “Elara,” Caelan warned. She laughed bitterly. “Of course. I’m the one who needs correcting.” Selene sighed. “Tonight has clearly been difficult for you. Perhaps you should go home before you embarrass yourself further.” The cruelest thing about Selene was not that she lied. It was that she lied softly enough to sound kind. Elara looked at Caelan. “Tell her to leave.” Selene’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?” “I wasn’t speaking to you.” Caelan looked between the sisters. Elara waited for him to choose. He had defended her from Selene once. Years ago, when Selene cut Elara’s hair while she slept and claimed Elara had done it for attention, Caelan had been the only one who spoke the truth. Now he lowered his gaze. “Elara, you should rest.” Something delicate broke inside her. Not the mate bond. It was too new and incomplete to break. This was older. The last remaining faith she had in him. Selene leaned closer as Caelan walked away. “Did you really think he would want you?” Elara kept her face still. “I don’t know what you mean.” “I saw the way you looked at each other.” Selene’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Poor Elara. The Moon Goddess finally gives you something, and you still aren’t good enough to keep it.” “Get away from me.” Selene’s hand shot out and closed around Elara’s wrist. Her nails dug into the skin. “To become Luna, Caelan needs a strong mate. A beautiful mate. A woman capable of giving him powerful heirs.” She glanced meaningfully at the ceremonial circle. “What could you possibly give him?” Elara ripped her arm free. “A reason not to choose you.” For the first time, Selene’s smile disappeared. Then footsteps approached. Selene’s expression transformed. Her eyes filled with tears as she stumbled backward. “Elara, stop!” Before Elara could react, Selene deliberately stepped onto the edge of her gown and threw herself to the ground. Cassian rounded the corner in time to see her fall. “Selene!” He rushed forward and caught his eldest daughter by the shoulders. Elara closed her eyes. Of course. “What happened?” Helena demanded, following him. Selene pressed a hand to her ankle. “It was an accident.” Her mother looked at Elara. “What did you do?” “Nothing.” “Elara was upset,” Selene said quickly. “She didn’t mean to push me.” “I did not touch her.” Cassian’s face darkened. “Must you disgrace this family further?” “She threw herself down!” “Enough.” “No, not enough.” The words escaped before Elara could stop them. “It is never enough for her. She ruins something, and I’m punished. She lies, and I’m punished. She hurts me, and somehow, I’m still the one apologizing.” Selene began to cry. Helena crouched beside her. “Cassian, her ankle is swelling.” It was not. They all knew it was not. But Cassian looked at Elara as though she had committed an unforgivable crime. “Apologize to your sister.” “I didn’t push her.” “Apologize.” “No.” His hand struck her cheek. The impact snapped her head to the side. For a moment, she heard nothing but a high-pitched ringing. The metallic taste of blood spread across her tongue. When she looked back, Caelan had stopped several paces away. He had seen it. Elara waited. Some small, pathetic part of her waited for him to return. To speak. To become the boy who had promised to fight the world for her. Caelan’s fists clenched. But he remained where he was. Selene watched him too. Then her tearful mouth curved into the faintest smile. Elara understood. She was surrounded by wolves, yet not one of them would stand beside her. A low growl rolled through the sacred grounds. Every head turned. Garrick Vale stood at the top of the stone steps. Elara’s grandfather was thinner than he had been the previous winter, and his face had lost much of its color. A black cane supported his weight, but weakness had not stolen the authority from his eyes. He had once led Silvercrest. And for the first time that night, every wolf fell silent out of respect rather than shock. “Strike her again,” Garrick said to his son, “and I will remind this pack why they once called me the Iron Alpha.” Cassian straightened. “Father, you should be resting.” “And you should be protecting your child. It appears neither of us is doing what we should.” His gaze moved to Selene. She immediately lowered her eyes. “Stand up,” Garrick ordered. “My ankle—” “Is perfectly fine.” Selene rose without another word. Garrick descended the steps slowly. Elara wanted to rush forward and help him, but he hated being treated like an invalid before the pack. When he reached her, his fingers gently lifted her chin. A red mark already burned across her cheek. Something dangerous stirred behind Garrick’s tired eyes. Then his expression softened. “Did you hear her?” he asked. Elara’s heart stumbled. No one else was close enough to hear. “Hear whom?” “Your wolf.” Cassian exhaled impatiently. “The High Priestess sensed nothing.” Garrick ignored him. His pale gray eyes remained fixed on Elara. She remembered the vast presence behind the wall. The white eyes. The grinding chains. Not yet. Elara nodded. Her grandfather’s fingers tightened beneath her chin. “What did she say?” Elara hesitated before whispering, “Not yet.” For one second, fear crossed his face. Not surprise. Recognition. He knew. Before she could question him, Garrick drew her against his chest. He had not embraced her in public since she was a child. His heart beat weakly against her ear. “Listen to me carefully,” he murmured. “You must tell no one else what you heard.” “Why?” “Because your wolf is not late.” The night seemed to grow colder. Garrick’s next words were so quiet that even the surrounding wolves could not hear them. “She is being held back.” Elara gripped his coat. “By whom?” Her grandfather looked toward the full moon. “By someone powerful enough to fear what will happen when she is free.”