Chapter 2: The night of the rite bonding

The cold night air was thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and the musk of wolves.

Silver moonlight bathed the clearing where the Moonfang Pack gathered in tight clusters, their golden eyes gleaming like embers in the darkness.

The towering pines swayed, whispering secrets Elara would never be privy to. She lingered at the edges of the pack, half-hidden in the shadows, her presence an unwelcome stain on an otherwise perfect night.

Tonight was the Rite of Bonding—a sacred event where young wolves discovered their fated mates.

It was a night of joy, of unity, of destiny but for Elara Moonfang, it was yet another reminder of her insignificance.

She folded her arms around herself, not for warmth but for comfort, as she watched her siblings, tall and proud, standing among the other elite wolves of the pack.

Their fur shimmered in the moonlight, their bodies strong, their eyes filled with confidence. They belonged here, they were everything a Moonfang wolf was meant to be—fierce, proud, dominant.

And then there was her.

Her silver fur was dull, her build frail, her presence an afterthought. Her empathy—a rare ability that allowed her to feel the emotions of others—was nothing but a mark of shame in a world that valued strength over sentiment.

She had spent her entire life trying to silence it, trying to be like them but no matter how hard she trained, no matter how many times she pushed herself to exhaustion, she remained an outcast.

A disappointment.

She flinched as her father, Luca Moonfang, strode past her, the familiar scent of dominance and authority rolling off him in waves. He didn't even look at her.

Why would he?

He had three strong children to be proud of. What use did he have for a weak, trembling daughter who couldn't even shift without pain?

But the worst part wasn't his silence. It was the memory of his words, spoken in that cold, cutting tone that haunted her dreams.

"You're too weak and I regret having you as a daughter."

Elara clenched her fists as her mother, Seraphine, walked by next. A perfect reflection of what a she-wolf should be—elegant, fierce, respected.

She was whispering to Elara's elder sister, Celeste, who was glowing with excitement. Tonight, she will find her mate.

"Stay out of sight," Seraphine hissed at Elara without breaking stride. "Don't embarrass us tonight."

Elara swallowed the lump rising in her throat and stepped back, pressing herself against the bark of a massive oak. The night was supposed to be about unity, but all she felt was loneliness clawing at her ribs.

The ceremony began, and one by one, wolves stepped into the moonlight, drawn to their destined mates. Joyous cries and howls filled the air.

Elara's heart twisted as she watched Celeste find her mate—one of the strongest warriors in the pack.

Then came her brother, Darius, who bonded with a fierce and intelligent she-wolf. More cheers. More celebration.

And then—

"Elara Moonfang."

A shiver ran down her spine. The Alpha's voice was like thunder, rattling her bones.

Silence fell over the clearing. Whispers.

"Why is the Alpha calling her?"

"She doesn't even belong here."

"Who would be fated to a wolf like her?"

Elara stepped forward on shaking legs, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down on her.

The air felt suffocating, the moment she entered the clearing, her heart lurched.

A scent—deep, musky, familiar—wrapped around her senses, making her pulse stutter.

Her mate.

Her gaze locked onto Thorne, the Moonstone Beta-in-waiting. He was tall, powerful.

His dark fur gleamed under the moonlight, and his golden eyes burned with something unreadable.

Time slowed, the bond snapped into place.

And then—

Thorne took a step back, nostrils flaring, his face twisting in disgust.

"No." His voice was sharp, final.

Elara felt her breath hitch.

The crowd murmured in shock. No wolf rejected their fated mate on sight. It was unheard of.

"No?" The Alpha's voice was like steel.

Thorne turned his gaze on him. "I refuse."

The words sliced through Elara like a blade.

The murmurs grew into open laughter. Wolves sneered, whispered cruel words.

"A weakling as the Beta's mate? Ridiculous."

"She can't even shift properly."

Thorne's lips curled, his next words loud enough for everyone to hear.

"She is not worthy to be my mate."

The world blurred. Her legs threatened to buckle. The bond, the sacred connection that was supposed to be unbreakable, had just been shattered.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever known—like a gaping wound in her soul, raw and unbearable.

Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

The Alpha narrowed his eyes at Thorne but said nothing. This was his decision to make.

Luca, her father, did not move. Did not look at her.

And her mother? Seraphine stood beside Celeste, not even a flicker of concern on her face.

They didn't care. They never had.

Elara turned, forcing herself to walk away, each step heavier than the last. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand why the Moon had cursed her with a bond only to have it broken.

She reached the edge of the clearing, her breath shallow, when she heard her father's voice—calm, quiet, but sharp as a dagger.

"Leave."

She froze.

Luca stepped forward, his golden eyes empty. "You have shamed this family enough."

A cold dread seeped into her bones. "Father, I—"

"You are no daughter of mine."

The pack watched, silent. No one spoke for her. No one stood for her.

Banished.

She had no words. No breath. No home.

Her vision blurred, her chest caving in on itself.

And then—

She ran.

Through the trees, through the cold, through the agony splitting her heart apart.

Branches tore at her skin. The freezing air burned her lungs but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

The Moonfang Territory faded behind her, swallowed by the dark forest.

She kept running, further and further into the unknown, her body trembling, her soul breaking.

She ran until her legs gave out, until she collapsed in the damp earth, her silver hair tangled with mud and leaves.

And for the first time since she was a pup—

She let herself cry.

Alone.

Unwanted.

Forsaken.

The silver light of the moon shone down upon her as if it, too, mourned her fate.

And somewhere deep in the forest, something watched