Page 11

11

SONYA

T he moon hung high and swollen in the sky, casting a pale, merciless light across the clearing.

Sonya stood barefoot on the cold grass, arms folded tight across her chest, every muscle wound taut.

The ancient trees that ringed the sacred grove whispered secrets she didn’t want to hear.

The kind passed down through generations of wolves who believed obedience was survival and tradition was law.

She hated this place.

It was beautiful, yes—sacred to the pack, full of deep roots and deeper history—but it also pulsed with expectation.

Tonight wasn’t just another meeting.

It was a cleansing rite , a minor but ancient ritual meant to reaffirm the pack’s bond under the moonlight.

A symbolic renewal.

It was required of senior pack members—especially of those the Alpha claimed as inner circle.

Which was the real reason she was here.

Because Roman had summoned her.

And saying no to Roman, especially under a full moon, wasn’t exactly wise.

She stood quietly near the edge of the ritual site, smoke from the low fire curling around her like ghost fingers.

Moss-lined stones encircled the clearing, each one etched with symbols so old not even the Elders remembered what they meant.

Some said they predated language.

Roman approached from the shadows like he belonged in them—flawless posture, black coat draped across his broad shoulders, dark eyes gleaming like polished onyx in the firelight.

His tailored clothes looked out of place in the dirt, but Roman didn’t bend to his surroundings.

He bent them to him.

He looked like a statue of a king.

But Sonya knew statues didn’t bleed.

Roman stepped forward, the dried leaves crunching under his boots.

“You didn’t have to come.”

She bit back the laugh.

“Right. Because when the alpha invites you, it’s totally optional.”

He smirked, that smooth, practiced charm sliding into place.

“I meant you could’ve refused. You’ve never been shy about that.”

“Didn’t feel like getting another house visit,” she said flatly.

Roman chuckled low. “Touché.”

He handed her a bundle of dried sage and cedar wrapped in red twine—symbolic purifiers.

She lit them over the fire pit and walked the perimeter, letting the smoke curl outward in spirals.

She spoke the invocation softly, the words bitter on her tongue.

The rest of the pack would perform their parts elsewhere.

This rite—this private one—was his way of pulling her close under the guise of tradition.

When she returned to the center, Roman was waiting.

“You always did have a graceful touch,” he said, voice a low purr.

Sonya arched a brow.

“You bring me out here to compliment my ritual form?”

He chuckled, stepping into her space.

“I brought you here because you’re important. Not just to the pack. To me.”

There it was.

That smooth edge. The sweet-sounding lie.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” Roman said next, his tone still light but threaded with steel.

Her stomach clenched.

“Landon,” he added, needlessly.

“The stray.”

“He’s not a stray,” she said tightly.

Roman’s eyes sharpened.

“He’s not pack. Not yet. And you’ve let him get close. ”

“I’ve done what you asked. I’ve watched him. Learned him.”

“You’re inserting yourself, ” he said, stepping closer.

“He doesn’t even know what you are.”

Sonya stiffened.

Roman’s smile curved cruelly.

“You hide it from him. You play human. How long do you think that’ll last?”

“As long as it needs to,” she snapped.

“Why?” he asked, voice dropping.

“What do you see in him that makes you flinch from your own kind? That makes you question me? ”

Sonya clenched her jaw.

“He’s kind.”

“Kindness won’t protect you,” Roman growled.

“It won’t save him, either.”

He reached for her then—brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

The gesture was meant to feel intimate, but all Sonya felt was cold.

“You’ve grown into something fierce,” he said.

“And I admire that. I do. But I didn’t bring you out here for politics.”

“Then why?” she asked, tone clipped.

“I brought you here to remind you what you are, ” Roman said, stepping in closer.

“You were born for this. For us. You and me—Alpha and mate. Imagine what we could build. What we could control.”

She stepped back.

“Don’t,” she warned.

“I’m giving you everything,” Roman said, voice velveted but hard beneath.

“And all I ask is that you stop pretending some human with half a name can give you more than I can.”

“He’s not pretending to be anything,” she said.

“You are.”

Roman’s expression cracked, just for a second.

“You think I’m the villain?” he hissed.

“You think he won’t hate you when he finds out what you really are?”

Sonya’s mouth opened but she didn’t speak.

Because she didn’t know.

She didn’t know what Landon would do.

If he’d flinch when he saw her wolf.

If he’d back away from the thing she kept buried beneath skin and duty and centuries of pack law.

But she knew one thing Roman was wrong.

Whatever she was becoming, it wasn’t his.

“I’m not yours,” she said flatly.

“You will be.”

He reached for her again—this time with intent.

A claiming touch. And Sonya snapped.

She grabbed his wrist mid-air, twisting hard enough to make him stumble.

Her eyes burned bright, wolf flashing just under the surface.

“Try that again,” she whispered, “and you’ll find out just how unclaimed I really am.”

Roman’s mouth curled, but it wasn’t a smile.

“Careful, Sonya. The pack protects its Alpha. Even from women who think they’re queens.”

“And maybe,” she said, stepping back into the moonlight, “it’s time the pack had something else to believe in.”

She turned, left him standing in the firelight, seething.

The ritual had ended.

“You’ll regret this,” he called after her.

“When he breaks. When he burns. When they come for him, and you realize you can’t save him.”

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t look back.

Because deep in her chest, buried beneath the layers of duty and fear, she knew something he didn’t.

Landon wasn’t the one who needed saving. She was.