THE MATE BOND WAS A LIE

The book was warm. Nesta noticed it the moment it touched her palms. She frowned and held it away from herself. The archive was cold enough to make her fingers ache. It was always cold. The stone walls never kept heat, and the narrow windows near the ceiling let in more wind than light. Fires were forbidden anywhere near the shelves. One careless spark could destroy centuries of records. So why was the book warm? Nesta looked down at it. “Where did you come from?” The question left her lips before she could stop herself. The book did not answer. Of course it did not. She almost laughed at herself. “Wonderful. Now I am talking to books.” She glanced toward the doorway. Empty. Good. She lowered her voice. “I have officially lost my mind.” Nesta had worked in the archive for six years. She knew better than anyone that books did not appear by themselves. And this one had not been there an hour ago. She had been helping clear the eastern wing when the order came. Burn everything. That was all they had been told. The old texts. The damaged records. Anything stored in the eastern crates. No questions. No copies. No reading. Just burn them. Nesta had nodded like she always did. Omegas did not question orders. They obeyed. They stayed useful. They kept their heads down. But Nesta knew the archive better than most people knew their own homes. The eastern wing was not filled with useless books. It contained old histories. Bloodline records. Treaties. Names of people who had died before the current King had even been born. Things that mattered. She had known the order was strange. She had just not known how strange. Until now. Nesta turned the book over. Cracked black leather covered the front and back. There was no title. No author's name. No date. Only a symbol. A circle with a single line through the middle. Her thumb moved over it. The warmth increased. Nesta immediately pulled her hand away. “No.” Her heartbeat quickened. She looked around again. Still alone. She should have put it back. Instead, she opened it. The first page was covered in writing. The letters were strange. They were not written in the common language, and they were not part of the old High Speech either. Nesta knew both. This was older. Much older. She stared at the page. “I cannot read this.” Then something happened. The letters shifted. Not literally. At least, not in a way she could explain. The strange marks slowly began making sense. Her breath caught. She read the first sentence. The bond was never hers. Nesta blinked. She read it again. The bond was never hers. Her eyes moved lower. It was given. Another line. It was created. Another. It was guarded by those who came after. Nesta's fingers tightened around the book. “No.” She turned the page. The words continued. The first wolf created the bond not for love, but for keeping. Nesta stopped breathing. For keeping. She read the next line. For control. The book slipped from her hands. It struck the stone floor with a heavy thud. Nesta stared at it. Her mind refused to accept what her eyes had just seen. Every wolf child was taught the same thing. The Moon chose your mate. The bond was sacred. The bond was ancient. The bond could never be broken. It was the foundation of their society. And this book was calling it a lie. “No,” Nesta whispered. She crouched and picked it up. “This is wrong.” She flipped through the pages. More writing. More warnings. Names she did not recognize. References to the first packs. Mentions of a council that no longer existed. Then she saw something that made her stomach twist. A familiar word. Vale. Her family name. Nesta's hand went still. “What?” She turned the page quickly. The writing had disappeared. Only blank paper remained. She flipped back. Nothing. “Come on.” She turned another page. Still nothing. Then— A sound came from behind her. A soft scrape. Nesta froze. Someone had moved. She slowly looked over her shoulder. The archive stretched behind her in long rows of wooden shelves. Nothing moved. The lamps burned weakly. Dust floated through the thin beams of light. “Hello?” No answer. Nesta stood. Her heart was beating hard enough to hurt. She reached for the small knife hidden inside her apron. It was hardly a weapon, but it was all she had. “Who is there?” Silence. Then came a quiet laugh. Nesta's blood turned cold. She knew that laugh. No. It couldn't be. She stepped backward. “Who's there?” A figure remained hidden between the shelves. Only a pair of golden eyes could be seen. Nesta's fingers tightened around the knife. “Come out.” The figure did not move. Instead, a familiar voice drifted through the darkness. “You always were terrible at following orders.” Nesta stopped breathing. She knew that voice. She had heard it every day for six years. A voice that had corrected her handwriting. A voice that had taught her how to repair damaged pages. A voice that had told her stories about the archive when everyone else had gone home. A voice that had disappeared three years ago. A voice everyone said belonged to a dead man. Nesta's lips parted. “Master Orin?” The figure stepped forward. For one terrible second, Nesta could only stare. The man looked older. Thinner. His once-neat grey hair was uneven, and a scar ran from his temple to his jaw. But those eyes were unmistakable. Nesta's knife slipped from her fingers. It hit the floor. “You're dead.” Orin gave her a tired smile. “That is what they wanted you to believe.” Nesta could barely breathe. “You disappeared.” “I was taken.” “Everyone said you ran away.” “I never ran.” “Then where have you been?” Orin's eyes dropped to the black book in her hands. His expression changed. Fear. Real fear. “Put it down.” Nesta tightened her grip. “Why?” “Because they know you found it.” “Who?” Orin looked toward the archive doors. “We do not have much time.” Nesta stepped closer. “You know what this is.” “Yes.” “What does it mean?” Orin looked at her for a long moment. Then his eyes moved to the symbol on the cover. “It means the history you were taught is not the history that happened.” Nesta swallowed. “And my family?” Orin went silent. That silence told her more than any answer could have. “Master?” He looked at her. “You should never have opened that book.” Nesta's voice shook. “Then why was it waiting for me?” Orin's face went pale. Because somewhere beyond the shelves, footsteps had begun approaching. Slow. Measured. Coming closer. Orin whispered, “Because it wasn't waiting for you.” He looked toward the darkness. “It was calling you.” Nesta turned. The footsteps stopped. Then a man's voice came from the shadows. “You found it.” Nesta's heart slammed against her ribs. Orin stepped in front of her. The voice continued. “Good.” A pause. “I was beginning to think I would have to find it for you.” Nesta stared into the darkness. And suddenly she understood the worst part. She recognized the voice. It belonged to someone she had met that very morning. Someone who should never have known about the book. Someone who had been watching her. The Alpha King.