The grand ballroom of the Crescent Moon Pack felt less like a celebration and more like a suffocating cage of gold, crystal, and mirrors. Kaelen stood frozen by a towering obsidian pillar, his knuckles turning stark white as his grip tightened around his glass of bourbon until the glass groaned under the pressure. The lively music, the laughter, and the political chatter of the continent's most powerful wolves had faded into a dull, agonizing roar inside his ears. All he could hear, all he could feel, was the frantic, savage scratching of his own wolf inside his mind, tearing at the barriers of his sanity.
*Mate. Our mate. Elara.* Across the room, Elara stood like a goddess carved from winter ice right beside the monstrous Lycan King. She was utterly radiant. Untouchable. The long, silver
