The wind carried the scent of ash and pine as Aylin crossed the threshold into Midnight Claw territory.
Four years.
Four years since she had been cast out—exiled like a cursed creature after her first heat turned violent, when the Alpha's son clawed himself bloody trying to claim her. She could still remember it vividly: the elders' disgust, the way her mother had bowed her head in shame, and the decision to send her away, like some forsaken mutt.
But now she was back.
The pack had summoned her. And she would obey.
She walked the forest path with her head held high, chin tilted into the breeze, though her heart throbbed with the kind of pain only wolves could understand—the ache of rejection, the agony of a bond severed by those who should have protected her.
Midnight Claw hadn't changed much.
Stone structures lined the edges of the camp, their faint glow from dim lanterns flickering in anticipation of the Lunar Eclipse Ceremony. Wolves in their human forms walked past, some not sparing a glance, others offering looks that barely concealed their disdain.
"She came back?" one sneered from behind a bonfire. "The cursed siren bitch with no shame."
"Should've died , be killed and burried ," another muttered.
Aylin felt the sting of their words but didn't flinch. She had built an armor around herself, thick enough that no words could pierce it. Her hands trembled at her sides, but her spine remained straight. Dressed simply in a black cloak over a fitted slip dress that hugged her hips, her long silver hair cascaded down her back, wild and untamed—the one thing about her untouched by shame.
By the time she arrived, the gathering was already underway. The great stone circle—Moon's Hold—was packed with pack members sitting on the lower tiers, their eyes fixed on the sky, waiting for the Eclipse to begin. Torches cast dancing shadows, and the mingling scent of wolves—dominant, feral, and charged with lust—filled the air.
She could feel them—so many alphas. Watching. Judging. Wanting.
Aylin scanned the gathering for a place to sit, but a hand caught her arm. It was Lira, her old friend turned coward.
"You shouldn't be here, Aylin," she whispered, hurried and anxious. "They only summoned you because they think your mark might awaken tonight. They want to see what kind of freak you'll become."
Aylin's lips curled into a slow, bitter smile. "Do you think I care?,if they want to see the freak I will become Then let them watch."
With that, she stepped into the center of the stone circle, head held high. Gasps rippled through the crowd. A bold move—omegas, especially disgraced ones, were never allowed there.
"what is she doing there, Get out of there!" the Beta barked from the elder's seat. "You have no right to stand there on a sacred ground you cursed—"
They didn't finish before
The moon began to darken.
The air shifted—heavy, thick, and laden with something ancient and primal. The crowd fell silent, eyes turned upward as the eclipse began, casting the world into a crimson shadow.
And Aylin screamed.
Her knees buckled, her eyes rolling back as agony ripped through her body like fire. Her skin burned, her bones felt as though they were breaking from the inside out.
She clawed at her chest—
Right over her heart—it was awakening.
The Siren Mark.
A jagged, swirling brand flared to life across her sternum, pulsing as if it had its own heartbeat—golden with a core of black flame. The crowd gasped. Some fell to their knees from the sheer power radiating off her.
Men whimpered. One Alpha vomited from the pressure.
And then…
The scent.
Her scent.
It flooded the air, intoxicating, thick, irresistible. Half the males in the circle shifted, gripping their seats, or falling to the ground, panting like starving beasts.
Aylin rose slowly, lips parted in a mixture of agony and euphoria. Her body trembled as the power surged across her skin. It was too much—too hot, too electric, too alive. She felt a wetness between her thighs, shame colliding with an overwhelming, helpless need.
Her gaze lifted—and met his.
Ryder.
The last male she ever wanted to see.
Alpha. Ruthless. An enemy.
His wolf eyes glowed red from across the fire pit. His body was taut, fists clenched as he fought against the bond snapping between them like a live wire.
She expected hatred.
But what she saw was far worse.
more like a raw, vicious Desire.
And he wasn't the only one.
From the shadows stepped another man. Cloaked in midnight robes, tattoos coiling down his chest. Kael.
The obsessed priest. A man she didn't know, but one who looked at her as though she had just fulfilled some prophecy.
And behind the fire…
Lucien stood Silently Watching. Still as death.
The mark on Aylin's chest pulsed again—and all three males flinched as if struck. Hands twitched toward her.
The crowd lost control.
Some backed away. Others snarled in lustful confu
sion. In the chaos, Aylin stood at the center of it all—barefoot, branded, broken, and reborn.