The Wolf Who Stole My Name

The night I discovered who my mate was, he looked me in the eyes and wished me dead. I had imagined meeting my fated mate. In every version, he recognized me instantly. He pulled me into his arms, pressed his forehead against mine, and promised that no matter what the world thought of me, I would never be alone again. I never imagined standing before an entire pack while the most powerful Alpha in the northern territories looked at me as though I were something he had found beneath his boot. But perhaps wolfless girls like me weren't meant to have beautiful endings. "Elara Voss!" My name rang across the training grounds. I hurried forward, clutching the small wooden box I had been carrying for the pack healer. Around me, wolves stopped sparring. Conversations faded. Even the warriors standing beside the stone steps turned to look. Alpha Lucien Vale had arrived. I had seen him only twice before, always from a distance. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend among the northern packs. He had inherited Blackthorn Pack after his father's mysterious death and crushed three rival territories before his twenty-fifth birthday. They called him the Iron Wolf. Standing beneath the black banners of his pack, he looked every bit the name. His dark hair was disheveled from riding, and his black shirt stretched across broad shoulders. A thin scar crossed his left eyebrow, making his otherwise handsome face appear even more dangerous. His gray eyes swept over the crowd before settling on me. My breath caught. Something inside my chest stirred. It was not pain. Not exactly. It felt like a locked door shaking beneath a sudden, violent wind. I took another step toward him. Then another. The strange sensation grew stronger until my knees weakened. I pressed a hand against my chest, confused by the warmth spreading beneath my skin. Lucien went completely still. His nostrils flared. For one second, his expression changed. His eyes widened, and his fingers curled as though he were fighting the urge to reach for me. Then he whispered a word that silenced every wolf within hearing distance. "Mate." The crowd erupted. "No way!" "That wolfless girl?" "The Alpha's mate?" I barely heard them. My heart was pounding so hard that I could feel each beat in my throat. My mate. After eighteen years of being the orphan nobody wanted, after years of enduring whispers about my empty blood and nonexistent wolf, the Moon Goddess had finally given me someone. And not just anyone. She had given me the Alpha of Blackthorn. I wanted to smile, but Lucien's expression stopped me. The wonder disappeared from his face. In its place came something colder than hatred. Fear. He descended the stone steps slowly, his boots striking the ground with measured precision. The crowd parted for him. When he stopped before me, I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes. "What's your name?" he asked. I blinked. "Elara Voss." "I know what the pack calls you." His voice was low and controlled. "I'm asking for your name." Confusion tightened my throat. "That's my name." For a moment, something flickered across his face. Then he reached for my wrist. The instant his fingers touched my skin, a pulse of heat raced up my arm. Silver light flashed beneath my wrist, forming a crescent before disappearing. Lucien released me as if I had burned him. A warrior behind him stumbled backward. "No," Lucien muttered. I stared at my wrist. "What was that?" He didn't answer. Instead, he looked toward the warriors surrounding the training grounds. "Everyone stays where they are." His command struck the clearing like a whip. Every wolf obeyed. I swallowed. "Alpha, I don't understand what's happening." "Neither do I," he said, though his eyes suggested otherwise. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "Listen carefully, Elara. Whatever you think this bond means, you need to forget it." My stomach tightened. "But you're my—" "Don't." The single word cut through me. I looked at his face, searching for a hint that this was some cruel misunderstanding. Surely the man who had just recognized me as his mate couldn't look at me with such disgust. "Did I do something wrong?" I whispered. His jaw tightened. For one brief moment, his gaze dropped to my lips. His expression faltered, and I saw the same unbearable pull I felt inside myself. Then he stepped away. "Bring the pack elders," he ordered. Two minutes later, three elderly wolves stood beside him. They exchanged nervous glances when they saw me. One of them, Elder Rowan, stared at my wrist. "That mark," he whispered. "It shouldn't exist." Lucien turned on him. "You recognize it?" Rowan's mouth closed. The silence answered more questions than words could have. Lucien faced me again. His hands were clenched at his sides, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. I wanted to ask what they knew. I wanted to demand why my skin had produced silver light. Instead, I asked the only question that mattered. "Are you going to reject me?" Something painful crossed his face. For one heartbeat, I thought he would deny it. Then he straightened, his expression hardening into the ruthless mask the entire territory feared. "Yes." The word landed between us. My chest tightened so violently that I struggled to breathe. "Please," I whispered. "You haven't even given me a chance." "I don't need one." The crowd had gone silent. Hundreds of wolves watched their Alpha, waiting to see what he would do to the girl the Moon Goddess had chosen for him. Lucien raised his voice. "I, Lucien Vale, Alpha of Blackthorn Pack, reject Elara Voss as my fated mate." Pain exploded through my chest. I gasped, stumbling backward as though he had struck me. Somewhere deep inside, something whimpered—a sound I had never heard before. Then Lucien delivered the words that shattered whatever hope remained. "I would rather watch you die than let you become my Luna." A few wolves lowered their eyes. Others stared at me with pity. I could barely see through my tears. Lucien turned away. But before he reached the waiting warriors, I heard him whisper something beneath his breath. "Forgive me." He was gone before I could ask what he meant. I stood alone in the center of the training grounds, surrounded by strangers who had just witnessed my humiliation. Then a burning sensation spread beneath my collar. I pulled out the silver pendant my mother had given me before she died. I had worn it every day since childhood, never knowing what it meant. For the first time, its surface was warm. A thin line of silver light moved across the pendant, forming a symbol I had never seen before. Seven tiny stars surrounding a crescent moon. Then, from somewhere behind me, a man's voice whispered: "She's alive." I turned sharply. A hooded stranger stood beside the northern gate, watching me. His eyes were fixed on my pendant. And when he smiled, I realized that unlike everyone else in the clearing, he wasn't surprised by what had happened. He had been waiting for it.