Page 10

The full moon hangs heavy over the Hollow, bathing the ancient clearing in silver light.

Here, in this deepest part of the woods, lies the most sacred site of Silvercreek, used only for the most important gatherings the pack ever holds.

Torches form a perfect circle around the stone altar, their flames burning an unnatural blue-white that speaks of old magic.

Magic that makes my own power stir restlessly under my skin, recognizing something ancient and profound.

"Stop fidgeting," Ruby whispers beside me. "You're making me nervous."

"I'm not fidgeting." But I force my hands to still where they've been twisting the fabric of my ceremonial dress—deep purple silk that feels foreign against my skin. I’ve been restless since my talk with Nic at the creek yesterday.

All around us, pack members file into their traditional positions: Elders nearest the altar, pure-blooded families behind them, mixed-blood shifters next, and non-shifting pack members at the edges.

Ruby and I stand with the other lottery candidates, though the space around us remains conspicuously empty.

No one wants to seem associated with us.

The air itself feels charged, heavy with anticipation and power.

Incense smoke curves through the night in impossible patterns, forming briefly into wolf shapes before dissolving.

The stone altar gleams with countless moons of ceremonial oil, its surface carved with symbols so old their meaning has been lost to time.

Beside it, Victoria arranges tokens of the ritual—the ancient grimoire bound in wolf hide, the silver chalice filled with sacred water from Shadow Creek, the bundle of herbs that look suspiciously like ones my mother used to grow.

"Look at Melissa," Ruby murmurs. "She's practically preening."

Nic's sister stands with the Alpha’s family near the Elders, resplendent in crimson silk that emphasizes her perfect figure.

She looks comfortable in her skin, as if she attends such family events every other day—beautiful, confident, wolf-blooded, stood with the Alpha’s affiliates and the Elders as if she belongs there.

She doesn’t even spare us lowly candidates a glance.

She, like everyone else Nic associates closely with, has better things to do than pay a moment’s attention to the likes of me.

"You're perfect exactly as you are." Nic's voice echoes from the past, a memory of stolen moments in this very clearing. "My wolf doesn't want some delicate pure-blood. He wants you."

I push the memory away, but others flood in to take its place.

Nic and I practicing ceremony protocols here, sneaking to the Hollow at night, giggling as we stumbled through the formal steps.

His hands on my waist as he showed me the traditional positions.

The way he used to look at me, like I was something precious instead of something shameful. ..

A hush falls over the gathering. Victoria steps forward, resplendent in ceremonial robes of midnight blue. When she speaks, her voice carries effortlessly through the clearing.

"Since the first wolves claimed this territory, the Mating Lottery has served to strengthen our pack. Tonight, we honor that tradition." She raises her hands, and the torches flare higher. "Let those chosen by fate stand forward."

The candidates move as one, forming a crescent before the altar, facing up to the dais where the Alpha’s family and Elders and pack authorities are gathered like some sick, domineering pantheon of gods.

Around thirty women, most of them unknown to me, each hoping to be chosen as mate to the Alpha.

I feel intensely out of place among them—for an abrupt, terrifying moment, I feel like a teenager again, uncomfortable in my own skin, desperate to hide away, to curl over myself.

Above us, Melissa smirks when I take my position, whispering something that makes her friends titter.

"Silence." Victoria's command cracks like a whip as the crowd murmurs. They fall back into silence at once.

More movement at the edge of the clearing draws every eye.

Nic approaches through an honor guard of his closest advisors, and my breath catches despite myself.

He wears the traditional Alpha robes—black silk embroidered with silver symbols of pack and power.

Moonlight turns his dark hair silver, emphasizing the sharp planes of his face.

He looks otherworldly, powerful, everything an Alpha should be.

He looked just as perfect the night he broke my heart, I remind myself firmly.

Nic takes his place before the altar, alone on the lower level of the dais, and I feel the exact moment his gaze finds me among the candidates. Something flickers in his expression—too quick to read—before he turns to Victoria.

"Who comes before the pack to seek their mate?" Victoria's voice rings with ritual significance.

"I come." Nic's response fills the clearing, deep and commanding. "Dominic Blackwood, Alpha of Silvercreek, beloved of the high moon, guardian of territory and pack."

"And do you swear to accept the lottery's choice as sacred and binding? To honor its wisdom and submit to its will?"

"I swear by moon and blood and pack bond." The formal words fall like stones into still water. "I will take as mate she who is chosen, pledging my strength to hers, my power to her protection, my life to our union."

Victoria’s eyes flash with something momentary and strange. I think I’m the only person who saw it.

"The candidates will present themselves," she continues after a moment. "Step forward as called and state your claim to the lottery's consideration."

One by one, the women move to the altar. An old schoolmate goes first—I don’t remember her name, but I remember her laughing at me once after dumping her lunch on my head.

"I come before the lottery pure of blood and strong of wolf," she declares proudly. "First daughter of the Marrock line of Elders, trained in pack law and tradition."

Others follow with similar declarations.

Pure-blood this, noble line that. Each one emphasizing their wolf heritage, their understanding of tradition.

Ruby mumbles something about her family’s historic allegiance to the pack, how they’ve served the wolves for generations as friends and laborers, but no one is paying any attention to her, which makes my blood boil. She deserves better than this place.

Finally, only I remain.

I step forward on shaking legs. Nic's eyes find mine again, and I'm transported back to our last night together for a moment. The way he looked at me then, like I was everything he ever wanted. The way he looked at me the next night, cold and distant as he rejected me publicly.

"I come before the lottery as I am," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "Daughter of shifter and witch, blessed with magic if not wolf's blood. I come only of obligation to historic pack law, which states that all unmated pack members of age must be considered."

Whispers ripple through the gathering. It’s a disrespectful address, perhaps even an unkind one. I don’t care. I lift my chin, refusing to be cowed. Let them whisper. Let them judge. I've survived worse than their disdain.

Victoria nods, satisfaction flickering across her features. "The candidates are accepted. Let the choosing begin."

She opens the ancient grimoire, and power floods the clearing. The torches flare impossibly high, casting writhing shadows through the incense smoke. Wind that shouldn't exist whips through the trees, carrying whispers in a language I almost recognize.

My magic responds instinctively, wanting to rise to meet the ancient power, but I squash it inside of myself, trying to keep a leash on its thrashing.

Beside me, Ruby grabs my hand in silent support.

Across the altar, Nic's expression remains carefully blank, but his wolf eyes glow amber in the strange light.

The choosing has begun.

Victoria raises the silver chalice, moonlight catching on its etched surface. The ancient grimoire floats before her, pages turning by themselves in the magical wind. Power builds in the clearing until my teeth ache with it, until every torch flame stretches toward the stars.

"By moon and magic, by blood and bone, we call upon the ancient wisdom." Her voice echoes strangely, as if multiple voices speak through her. "Show us the path to pack strength. Guide us to the union that will secure our future."

She pours the sacred water over the altar stone. Instead of running off the edges, it pools in the carved symbols, beginning to glow with an inner light. My magic surges in response, recognizing something kindred in the old power.

"The lottery wasn’t really random, you know," my mother's voice echoes in memory. "It saw what the pack needs, even when the pack itself is blind..."

The glowing water begins to move, flowing between symbols in impossible patterns. Victoria's eyes go completely silver as she reads the signs. The wind rises to a fever pitch, and I swear I hear wolves howling in it, though every pack member stands silent.

Then everything stops. The wind dies. The torches steady. In the sudden stillness, silvery light rises from the altar, forming letters in the air.

LUNA CATHERINE MORGAN.

My name.

For a moment, nobody moves. Nobody breathes. The letters hang there, undeniable, casting their soft glow over shocked faces.

Then the chaos erupts. Everyone starts shouting at once.

"Impossible!"

"She must have cursed it!"

"—must have rigged the ceremony—"

"—an insult to pack tradition!"

Melissa's voice rises above the others, sharp with fury. "This is a farce! She's not even a real wolf!"