Chapter 12 — Moon-Oath Reckoning

Silver dawn spilled across the freshly carved oath-circle, turning dew to diamonds on every rune. The entire pack packed the courtyard—warriors in half-polished mail, maids clutching aprons, pups perched on shoulders. No one dared speak above a whisper: the moon-oath ceremony was older than any Alpha, and lying beneath its symbol was said to twist a wolf’s tongue to ash.

Ophelia stood on the eastern arc, palms slick despite the chill. Maeve and Ash hovered just beyond the cordon of guards. On the western arc, Caroline appeared flanked by two retainers, her hair braided in austere coils, sable cloak hiding manacles. Beta Hawthorne stalked behind her, jaw set like quarried stone.

Dylan stepped into the center. Moonlight still lingered, pale against the rising sun, enough to sanctify the vow. His voice carried without effort.