Chapter 1
POV: Serena
The corridors outside the council chamber always smell like iron and old stone.
Power, I think. Or the illusion of it.
I slow my steps anyway, even though the guards straighten the moment they see me. Their bows are respectful, but never deferential. Not the way they bow to my brother. Not the way they will one day bow to his Beta.
If I ever become one.
The council doors open before I reach them, and Alaric steps out like the room itself has finally exhaled.
My twin looks… wrecked.
His dark hair has fallen loose from the leather tie he insists on wearing during meetings, strands brushing the sharp line of his jaw. His blue eyes — the same intense, unmistakable blue as mine — are dulled with exhaustion, shadows carved beneath them like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Don’t,” he mutters the second he sees me.
I cross my arms. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I can feel it.”
I smile despite myself. Twins. Curse or gift, depending on the day.
“The council eating you alive again?” I ask.
He lets out a humorless breath. “They’re very concerned about the future of the pack.”
“Oh.”
His lips twitch, but it doesn’t last. He glances back at the closed doors, lowering his voice. “They want to postpone the border expansion. Again. They think the eastern clans won’t respect a treaty signed by an unmated Alpha. Silverclaw keeps offering help, but somehow their help feels more like pressure than support.”
I stiffen. “You’ve been Alpha for five years.”
“And yet,” he says quietly, “apparently my leadership is still considered… incomplete.”
I step closer, close enough that our shoulders brush. Same face, if you looked too quickly. But where his posture is rigid, weighted by command, mine is coiled — restless, waiting.
“I know you can’t wait to be my Beta,” he says, softer now. “But if these meetings are already draining you just by hearing about them, you’d hate sitting through them.”
I lift my chin. “I can’t wait for them.”
He studies me, searching my face the way he’s always done when he thinks I’m lying to myself.
“You say that,” he replies, “but wanting power and being allowed to hold it are two very different things in this pack.”
The words sting because they’re true.
I’ve trained. Studied law, strategy, diplomacy. Became a lawyer. Fought alongside warriors twice my size and won. And still, every time my name is mentioned in the same breath as Beta, there’s always a pause.
When she finds her mate, they say.
When the Moon Goddess decides.
“I want my place,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “And I want my mate. I’m tired of being half something.”
Alaric’s gaze softens. He reaches out, brushing his knuckles against my wrist — a twin’s comfort, small and private.
“You’ll have both,” he says. “I swear it.”
Then duty pulls him away, as it always does. He nods to the guards, squares his shoulders, and walks down the corridor toward the war room, already wearing his Alpha mask again.
I stay where I am, staring after him.
That’s when the air shifts.
Not dramatically. Not magically. Just… warmer.
“Serena.”
I turn.
Cassian stands a few steps away, blond hair cropped short, skin kissed by sun and training fields rather than council chambers. His brown eyes — warm, steady, dangerously kind — meet mine, and something in my chest lights up in a way I refuse to examine too closely.
Head of the Guard. My brother’s right hand. The man who never looks at me like I’m unfinished.
“You were in there a long time,” I say.
His mouth curves into a smile that’s meant only for me. “I was waiting for your brother to stop glaring at the council long enough for me to escape.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
Gods help me.
“I’m headed to the training grounds,” he continues, shifting his weight. “Thought you might want to join. Clear your head.”
The invitation hangs between us, loaded with everything we never say.
Training with Cassian means sparring until my muscles scream. It means his hands correcting my stance, his voice low and steady in my ear. It means feeling powerful in a way the council chambers never allow.
It also means pretending I don’t notice the way his eyes soften when he looks at me.
“Yes,” I say. “I’d like that.”
Relief flashes across his face before he masks it, professionalism snapping back into place.
“Good,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”
As we fall into step together, I can’t shake the familiar ache curling beneath my ribs.
I believe in the Moon Goddess. I believe my mate is out there.
But some days, walking beside Cassian, believing feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
The training headquarters hums with movement the moment we step inside.
Steel clinks. Boots scrape stone. Sweat and leather scent the air.
And then Cassian enters fully beside me — not just walking with me, but claiming the space — and everything subtly rearranges itself around him.
Conversations quiet. Soldiers straighten. Weapons are sheathed.
He doesn’t say a word. He never needs to.
The head of the guard doesn’t demand respect. He radiates it.
And this kind of power gives me chills in my lower belly; I always deny it to myself.
“Clear the circle,” Cassian orders calmly.
The soldiers obey instantly, backing away from the central sparring ring. I catch a few familiar glances sent my way — respectful, curious, proud. I’ve trained here my whole life. I’ve earned my place.
Still, there’s something different when it’s just me and him.
Cassian turns to me, rolling his shoulders once, slow and deliberate. His fitted training shirt stretches over muscle earned through discipline, not vanity. He is hot, I can’t deny it. Every movement is precise. Controlled.
Deadly.
“Ready?” he asks.
Always.
We circle each other.
I strike first — a feint meant to test his reflexes. He blocks easily, countering with a sweep that would have taken down anyone else. I jump back just in time, my heart already pounding.
We exchange blows, fast and fluid. He lets me push him. Lets me think I’m winning.
I know his tricks.
“You’re holding back,” I say under my breath as we lock forearms.
His mouth curves slightly. “Am I?”
I twist, forcing momentum. He stumbles — just enough — and I capitalize, driving him backward until he hits the padded wall.
For one brief, dangerous second, I feel victorious.
Then his hand snaps out, catching my wrist.
In a single, seamless movement, Cassian spins me, presses me flush against the wall, and pins both my wrists above my head.
Hard.
My breath leaves me in a sharp gasp.
His body cages mine. Solid. Unmoving. Heat everywhere.
“Never assume,” he murmurs, leaning in.
Our faces are inches apart. I can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Feel his breath brush my lips. My pulse is everywhere — throat, wrists, thighs.
The world narrows to this moment.
To the way his grip is firm but careful. To the way his jaw tightens like it’s taking everything he has not to cross a line.
My lips part without permission.
His gaze flicks down.
For half a heartbeat, I think he might kiss me.
Then Cassian inhales sharply and steps back, releasing me as if burned.
The space between us feels colder instantly.
“Point,” he says, voice rougher than before. “You almost had me.”
Almost.
I swallow, steadying myself. My wrists tingle where he held me.
“Almost counts,” I reply.
He watches me for a long second, something unreadable flickering across his face before the mask snaps back into place.
We finish the session professionally after that — too professionally. When it ends, the soldiers disperse, pretending not to have noticed anything.
Cassian hands me a towel.
“The Mate Ball is in one week,” he says casually. Too casually.
I freeze for half a second before taking it. “I know.”
“You and the Alpha turned twenty-five this year.” His eyes lift to mine. “It’s… a big moment.”
I nod, my chest tightening with the familiar mix of hope and fear. “I used to dream about it when I was a child. That the Moon Goddess would just… know. That I’d feel it immediately.”
“And now?” he asks quietly.
“Now I want it more than ever.”
He studies me, jaw flexing.
“Do you want to find your mate?” I ask, needing to know. Needing to hear it.
“Yes,” Cassian answers without hesitation.
Then his gaze drops — not to my mouth this time, but deeper. As if he’s looking for something he’s sworn never to touch.
“For the right reasons,” he adds.
Before I can respond, hurried footsteps echo down the hall.
A young soldier approaches, breathless. “Chief. Lady Serena. The Alpha requests your presence in the council meeting room. Immediately.”
Cassian arches a brow, glancing at me. “Now what?”
I huff a quiet laugh, already bracing myself. “I don’t know. He’s your best friend.”
“He is your twin,”Cassian add laughing.
I step closer to him, lowering my voice. “But let’s figure it out.”
Together, we turn toward the council wing.
And I have no idea that this moment — this tension, this almost — is about to be shattered by someone who should have stayed exiled.
