Prologue
The first thing he said to me, in the great hall, in front of a thousand wolves, was tell me your name.
The last thing he said to me, four minutes later, in front of the same thousand wolves, was —
I, Damien Thornholt, Alpha of the Ashvale, reject you, Aria Marchetti, as my fated mate.
It is the second sentence I have spent the rest of my life telling people about.
It is the first sentence I have spent the rest of my life remembering.
I was twenty-one. My wolf had been awake for two weeks, watching from somewhere at the base of my spine, and I did not yet know what she was waiting for.
I did not know that morning. I did not know in the bath. I did not know when I put on the dress.
The dress was borrowed. The shoes were borrowed. The mask in my pocket — I had not decided, yet, whether to wear it — was borrowed too. My hands at the banister, coming down the stairs at dawn that day, were the only thing about me that morning that was mine.
The house was empty.
That was where it started.
That is where I will start.
Author’s Note 🌙
Hi. I’m Riley. ✨
This is the start of a long story — and I mean long. I want you to know what you’re getting into before you click into Chapter One: a girl walking into a great hall in a borrowed dress, and a man who is going to do the worst thing he could possibly do to her, and the long years that come after.
I write daily. I read every comment. If you stay, I’ll see you tomorrow. 🐺
— Riley
