Chapter 12: The Wolf Emerges – Dominic’s Transformation Triggers When Elara Is Threatened

The sky over New Veylan was thick with storm clouds, thunder rumbling low like the growl of some sleeping beast. The air in Dominic's penthouse was sharp, too still—unnaturally so. Elara felt it in her teeth. Something was about to shift.

Dominic was pacing the floor again. Ever since the Council's summons, he'd been on edge. But this was different. His steps were too fast, his breathing too shallow. She noticed the flickering gold in his eyes, his fingers twitching. His wolf was close.

"Dominic," she said softly, approaching him. "What's going on?"

He stopped abruptly, turning to her with clenched teeth. "They're coming earlier than expected. The High Council emissary lands in less than an hour. They're not waiting for our response. They want to see us. Now."

She swallowed hard. "But we're not ready."

"That's the point," he muttered. "They're forcing our hand."

Before she could respond, a knock came at the door—sharp, fast, and unfamiliar.

Dominic stepped in front of her instinctively, nostrils flaring.

"Stay behind me."

She obeyed, adrenaline prickling her skin as he opened the door to reveal Ezra, his Beta, panting and blood-streaked.

"They're not alone," Ezra hissed. "Someone else came with them. A seer. She's sniffing the bond. If it's fake, she'll know."

Dominic's jaw tensed. "We need to keep Elara hidden."

"No," Elara stepped forward. "If they sense me hiding, it's worse. We act bonded. We act real. Because we are."

Dominic stared at her. In that moment, the fear in his golden eyes softened into something else—trust. He nodded once.

"Then let's give them a show they'll never forget."

The Council's envoy arrived with the weight of five kingdoms behind them. Two Alphas, cloaked in silver, entered the penthouse without permission, followed by a woman whose eyes looked blind but glowed with moonlight. Her presence chilled the room. The seer.

Dominic greeted them with a confident nod, Elara at his side, her hand wrapped tightly in his. The High Alpha of the North, Cillian Mordane, did not return the greeting.

"We have come to verify what was claimed," Cillian said. "The bond. The mark. The truth."

Dominic inclined his head. "You'll find nothing false here."

The seer stepped forward, her voice echoing unnaturally. "We shall see."

She raised a hand, gesturing Elara closer. A strange pressure built in Elara's chest, as if her blood were being pulled toward the woman. Her knees nearly buckled, but Dominic's arm slipped around her waist, steadying her.

"Her blood sings," the seer murmured. "But not only with the bond. There is something... older."

Elara stiffened. The Council members exchanged glances.

"What do you mean?" Dominic asked carefully.

"The Luna's curse walks in her shadow. But so does the mark of fate. This is not a simple union." The seer stepped back, eyes narrowing. "She is more. And because of that, more will come for her."

Cillian's expression darkened. "Then the bond must be tested further. We will host a formal gala. Tomorrow night. Before the packs. You will perform the Rite of Aether Flame."

Dominic went still. Elara turned to him.

"What's that?"

"A sacred tradition," Cillian answered for him. "The Alpha and his mate must allow their bond to manifest before the flame of the moon. If it is false, the fire burns. If it is real, it shines silver."

"And if we refuse?" Dominic's voice was like ice.

"You forfeit your title. Your lands. Your life."

The penthouse turned into a fortress that night. Ezra doubled the guards. Dominic barked orders. Elara sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching the chaos unfold around her.

She was exhausted. Not just physically—but emotionally, spiritually. Her dreams had turned darker, wilder. In one, she'd walked barefoot across a blood-soaked forest, a silver wolf watching her from the shadows. In another, she'd stood at the top of a tower, calling down the moon until her own skin cracked with light.

She pressed a hand to her heart. The bond. It pulsed there, low and electric.

Dominic entered the room and shut the door behind him.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No." She stood. "Dominic, they're forcing us into something sacred. What if it fails? What if they see the truth?"

He came close. "Then I burn. Not you."

"Don't say that."

He touched her cheek, gently. "You've brought me back from the edge more times than I can count. I won't let them take you now."

Just then, the balcony window shattered with a scream of wind. A blur of darkness rushed through—black fur, glowing red eyes. A rogue. Not just any rogue. This one reeked of death and magic.

Elara screamed as claws slashed toward her. Dominic shoved her behind him and shifted mid-air. His form exploded into his wolf—massive, midnight black, eyes glowing like a dying star.

It was the first time she had seen him fully shifted. And he was glorious.

Dominic's wolf tore into the intruder with a snarl, but the rogue was fast. Too fast. They tumbled through the broken glass, howling. Elara ran to the edge, heart pounding.

Another rogue dropped from the rooftop.

"Elara, run!" Ezra shouted from the hallway.

But she couldn't move. The second rogue lunged for her—and something inside her cracked open.

Heat flared in her veins. Her vision blurred. And her hands, her once-human hands, glowed with silver light.

The rogue screamed as it collided with the barrier around her. It disintegrated midair.

She collapsed to her knees, breathing hard.

Below, Dominic howled. The sound split the sky.

She stumbled down the stairs, following the chaos. Outside, the courtyard was a battlefield. Dominic's wolf bled from a gash across his flank, but he stood between her and five other rogues, shoulders heaving, eyes wild.

And then—he changed.

Not just shifted. Changed.

His fur began to gleam with silver. His stance grew taller, almost humanoid. His aura burned like fire.

Ezra's gasp echoed. "He's Ascending."

"What?"

"He's reaching the Second Wolf. The Pure Form. That only happens... when the bond is true."

Dominic roared and launched into the rogues. This time, they didn't stand a chance.

It was a massacre.

When it was over, the courtyard was littered with bodies. Elara ran to him, but he was on his knees, shifting back, covered in blood and mud.

He looked up at her. "Did I... hurt you?"

She shook her head, tears spilling. "You saved me. Again."

He touched her hand, breath ragged. "They sent them. The Council. They knew. They wanted you dead."

"Why?"

"Because they fear what you are. What we are. The bond is too strong."

Elara stared at the flames burning in the wreckage. The truth scorched her.

"We're not just a contract anymore," she whispered. "We're real. And they know it."

Dominic pulled her into his arms.

"I'm not hiding anymore," he said. "Let them come. Let them see what happens when you push a fading Alpha too far."

From the shadows, another presence watched—one cloaked in moonlight and bone. A witch of the old blood. She whispered to the wind.

"The bond has awakened. But so has the prophecy. And death walks behind them both."