Bertha’s POV
Cara and Rose stick close to me as three wolves emerge from the tree line. The way they move—calm, confident, and unyielding—sends a knot tightening in my stomach.
“Alpha Bastian’s wolves,” Cara murmurs beside me, her breath curling in the cold air.
I don’t recognize any of them. Not that it matters. They wouldn’t recognize me either—not as their future Luna. The thought fills me with a dangerous mix of anger and defiance.
“Hello, Lady Raquel,” one of them greets, his deep voice slicing through the quiet like a blade. He’s not loud, but the authority in his tone makes every wolf in earshot freeze and pay attention.
I step forward, ignoring the weight of dozens of eyes tracking my movements. The tension in the clearing is thick as I join my mom.
“What do you want?” my mom
