Prologue
Bailey POV
I worried that it wouldn’t be enough to hold a wolf, but my fear didn’t last long. The bear trap had been my idea.
The potion-laced rag?
All hers.
I didn’t ask. She didn’t explain.
I knelt beside Hope, pressing the soaked cloth firmly over her mouth. My gaze was locked on her pale face as I counted off in my head.
A flicker of movement in the trees snapped my attention upward as Rosalie stepped from the shadows, pushing back the hood of her cloak. I looked back down again, a slow smile curving my lips.
We had rehearsed this a hundred times. Everything was going exactly as planned.
Or so I thought.
A sharp slap landed on my shoulder.
A growl tore free before I could choke it down. “I warned you.”
I had already bitten her once, and she still hadn’t learned. You don’t strike a predator and walk away unscathed. I could sink my teeth into her every day, and it wouldn’t matter. She never flinched…from the bite or warning.
My wolf snarled in frustration, urging me to end her insolence here and now. But I was convinced she’d been sniffing too many of her own potions.
Or perhaps she was stricken with something else.
A curse, most likely.
She laughed, shaking her head as she turned slightly, addressing empty air. “She ignores my warning, though,” she announced, her voice sharpening on the word my. “Fine.”
I had grown accustomed to it—the way she muttered to herself, or to whatever unseen companion she thought she had.
But I didn’t have time for her madness. This was my last chance.
“What warning, Rosalie?” I hissed through gritted teeth. My lips curled, baring my teeth before I caught myself.
She’s not my enemy, I repeated.
Not yet.
“You get much closer to that rag,” she said lightly, “and there will be two pretty wolves out cold in the woods. That will ruin everything, I think.”
I moved back so fast I nearly fell on my ass, catching myself with both hands just inches from the ground. My pulse hammered. I had leaned too close, too long, listening for signs of life. She had been so still, I had nearly convinced myself we had already killed her.
And gods—the blood.
Too much of it coated her ankle, pooling beneath the jagged teeth of the trap. I salivated when I first approached her. The metallic scent flooded my senses.
I rocked back onto my heels, dragging in fresh air.
Then I stared at Rosalie, my brow knitting as the realization struck. She had used something resembling common sense. A rarity. Most days, she was unmoored. Always needing redirection.
But the blood overwhelmed me. It was all I could smell. I felt wild. Powerful.
Vicious.
It was so damn intoxicating. Holding her life in my hands and choosing not to crush it right then and there.
I was distracted.
I didn’t smell anything unusual on the rag. I half expected it to fail. But it didn’t. She wasn’t losing blood fast enough to lose consciousness. No, the unconsciousness was Rosalie’s doing. The potion she had secretly prepared all day yesterday.
And I nearly fell victim to it myself.
Rosalie’s bony fingers settled on my shoulder. Her other hand stretched into the air, claw-like, twitching as if she plucked strings that only she could see. The trap sprang open with a metallic shriek. She pressed her palm to Hope’s skin and muttered in an ancient tongue.
The forest blinked away.
We stood inside the room I’d spent so long preparing.
My cage for her.
“We’re home,” Rosalie announced loudly, tilting her chin toward the ceiling.
“I know,” I snarled.
“I know you know,” she giggled as she turned to walk away.
I didn’t move a muscle, straining for some sound—any sign to prove she wasn’t veil-fractured.
There was nothing.
Only the faint tap of her footsteps against the cement floor.
I rolled my eyes—at her or myself, I wasn’t sure. She creeped me out more than usual.
Maybe I was just on edge, knowing how close I was to getting everything I’d ever wanted.
I shook my head and forced the thought aside and began the next step.
Leaning down, I hooked my arms beneath Hope’s shoulders and dragged her into the shadows toward the narrow storage room concealed behind the rear wall.
The dark smelled of dust and stone.
My vision adjusted as I dropped her limp body against the far wall and reached for the shackles. Their weight settled comfortably in my palms. Chains scraped across cement as I hauled them toward her, securing one around each wrist, each ankle. Every lock snapping shut felt like a piece of my life sliding back into place.
I loomed over her as my thoughts replayed every reason that led to this moment.
This fragile, insignificant thing. A thief who believed she would take the helm of one of the greatest families in the world. Who thought she would take the arm of my alpha.
I had watched her for days beneath Rosalie’s cloaking spell. Watched the way he looked at her.
He sealed her fate then.
Not me.
“You can thank him for this,” I whispered, the smile threading through my voice.
For good measure, I wrapped a heavier, rusted chain several times around her waist. Tightly. And locked it too. My gaze flicked to the ceiling, mapping the spot in my mind—where I’d never want to stand if she ever tried to bring the house down.
My smile deepened.
I almost wanted her to try.
That would solve my problems even sooner – and I wouldn’t exactly have blood on my hands. Technically.
I had been robbed of what was mine for the last time.
I tugged each chain, testing them. Once. Twice. A third time.
Bread and water waited by the wall. Pathetic offerings for survival. Just in reach. The bucket in the corner would serve as her only relief. A quiet laugh threatened to escape as I imagined the moment she realized what it was for.
I almost wanted to watch her break, to see her face when the dignity crumbled.
Her face. How ironic.
As I took my final look at her, a wave of relief rolled over me. For days, my mind gnawed through every possible failure.
But nothing went wrong.
Not once.
For the first time in months, I felt something dangerously close to hope.
I pulled the door closed by the hidden notch in the lower cinder block. The seal clicked into place, disappearing seamlessly into the wall as though it had never existed.
No one would ever find her here. I wouldn’t have—if the door hadn’t been left half open the first time I stumbled into this basement.
I knew instantly it would become her prison.
The witch warned me. The magic would fail if Hope died.
Her survival depended entirely on her rations…and whether she brought the roof down trying to break free once she woke.
I only needed seven days.
Seven days for the magic to become permanent.
My heart pounded violently—not from fear. That had burned away long ago. This was pure, uncut exhilaration. An adrenaline high I never wanted to come down from.
I would finally get what I deserved.
Aiden had slipped through my fingers. I felt myself going feral. The bond with my wolf was fraying. I’d struck the Luna deliberately—a crime punishable by death. I fled for miles, my wolf tearing at my insides, desperate to drag me back to the pack.
We left everything we knew—our den, our safety—and for what?
All because she arrived.
Because she stole what was meant to be mine.
He would have chosen me eventually. I had waited my entire life.
This was all Jess’s fault. She ruined everything.
My family was gone. My friends. My pack.
Aiden.
I had nothing.
Then I found the house. Found Rosalie.
It was meant to be temporary. A place to hide, to rest, while I decided what to do. Where to go.
I was so lucky to have even found it at all.
She had uncloaked it when she heard me approaching.
Rosalie welcomed me inside, listening to my snarling grief without judgment. Even when I confessed to the revenge festering inside me.
She had been alone for a long time. When she began muttering about the coven that cast her out, I saw the shape of a plan.
A plan I could coax her into helping me with.
And it worked.
Perfectly.
Now we were hundreds of miles away—transported in a single blink. Far, but not far enough for Hope’s mate…unless the spell your witch knew could encase an old mansion with a cloaking spell.
After all, she only wanted a friend.
I only wanted to be Luna.
I wanted the reverence owed to me. I always believed Aiden would give it to me. Our families basically threw us together since we were pups.
But there was still another brother.
Josh would do.
-----------------------------Author notes-----------------------------------------
Here we go with Book #3!!!
I love to share early drafts here on Inkitt for readers who enjoy being the first to watch a story take shape. These versions change as the worlds deepen and the characters reveal more of themselves.
Once a book is fully edited and complete, the final published version is available on Amazon. Writing is my full-time career, and reader support makes it possible for these stories—and their characters—to come to life. Whether you're here for early drafts or final editions, I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who reads, comments, and follows along here and on Amazon.
Thank you for being part of the journey.
Love,
L C
