Chapter 1 The Blood Moon Offering
I knew they were going to kill me when they dressed me in white.
No one in Hollowmere wore white unless they were becoming someone’s bride, someone’s Luna, or someone’s corpse.
And I was no bride.
The thin silk clung to my skin as Elder Orick’s fingers tightened around my arm and dragged me across the stone courtyard. The dress was too fine for me, too soft, too pure. It belonged to a girl who was loved. A girl with a mother to braid her hair and friends to whisper about how beautiful she looked beneath the moonlight.
Not me.
Never me.
I was Vanya Thorne.
The traitor’s daughter.
The cursed girl.
The mistake Hollowmere Pack had never forgiven.
“Walk properly,” Elder Orick hissed beside me, his bony fingers digging deeper into my flesh. “You will not shame this pack more than your bloodline already has.”
I kept my chin lifted, even though my bare feet were freezing against the stone. The courtyard was full tonight. Every member of Hollowmere had gathered beneath the Blood Moon, their faces painted in red light, their eyes sharp with judgement.
Some looked at me with disgust.
Some with relief.
A few looked away.
Those were the worst ones.
The ones who had known me since I was a child. The ones who had watched me grow up scrubbing floors in the pack house, eating last at dinner, sleeping in a room with no lock and no heat. The ones who knew I had never betrayed anyone.
Still, not one of them stepped forward.
Not one.
My eyes searched the crowd before I could stop myself.
Theron stood near the front.
My stepbrother.
Tall, still, unreadable.
His dark hair was neatly tied back, his jaw clenched as if he had bitten down on words he refused to say. For one pathetic heartbeat, I thought he might move. I thought he might finally do something other than watch me suffer from a safe distance.
But Theron only stared at me.
Then his gaze dropped to the ground.
A sharp pain sliced through my chest.
I should have known better.
People like Theron loved quietly, if they loved at all. They passed you bread when no one was watching. They warned you to stay silent before punishments. They looked guilty while doing absolutely nothing to save you.
And somehow, that hurt worse than hatred.
Elder Orick shoved me forward, and I stumbled into the centre of the courtyard.
The pack went silent.
At the top of the stone steps stood Alpha Magnus Wren, ruler of Hollowmere, my stepfather, and the man who had made my life a punishment before I was old enough to understand why.
His black ceremonial cloak snapped in the wind behind him. Silver rings glinted on his fingers. His expression was calm, almost bored, as if he were about to discuss hunting schedules or winter supplies instead of ending my life.
Beside him stood my stepsister, Liora.
She wore crimson.
Of course she did.
Liora always wore the colour of victory.
Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders in perfect waves, her lips curved in the faintest smile. She was everything Hollowmere adored. Beautiful. Obedient. Pure-blooded. A future Luna in the making.
And tonight, she looked at me like I was already dead.
Alpha Magnus raised one hand.
The crowd bowed their heads.
I did not.
His eyes narrowed.
Good.
Let him hate me with my spine straight.
“Tonight,” Alpha Magnus began, his voice carrying across the courtyard, “Hollowmere gathers beneath the Blood Moon not in celebration, but in grief.”
A murmur passed through the pack.
My stomach tightened.
Grief?
No one had told me anything about grief.
“Three Nightveil warriors were discovered at dawn near our eastern border,” he continued. “Their bodies were torn open. Their blood spilled on disputed land.”
The courtyard erupted in whispers.
Nightveil.
The name moved through the crowd like a curse.
My skin prickled.
The Nightveil Pack bordered our lands beyond the black forest. I had never met one of them, but I had heard the stories. Everyone had. They were brutal wolves, raised beneath colder moons and harsher laws. Their Alpha was worse than all of them.
Kaiden Draven.
The Alpha of Nightveil.
The monster with silver eyes.
The wolf who supposedly ripped enemies apart without shifting.
My mother used to tell me not all monsters looked like monsters.
Then Hollowmere accused her of becoming one.
Alpha Magnus let the whispers grow before he silenced them with one sharp look.
“Nightveil will demand blood for blood,” he said. “If we refuse, war will follow.”
A heavy pause.
Then his gaze landed on me.
My breath caught.
No.
No, no, no.
I looked at Elder Orick, at the guards behind me, at the white dress they had forced over my head, and suddenly every piece clicked into place with sickening clarity.
They were not punishing me.
They were offering me.
Alpha Magnus descended the steps slowly. His boots struck the stone with measured, powerful sounds.
“Years ago, Mira Thorne betrayed this pack,” he said.
My mother’s name punched through me.
I forced myself not to flinch.
“She fed our secrets to Nightveil. She weakened our borders. She cost Hollowmere lives.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
The words were out before I could stop them.
The courtyard froze.
Elder Orick struck me across the face so hard I tasted blood.
My head snapped to the side. Pain burned through my cheek, hot and immediate. Someone in the crowd gasped. Someone else laughed softly.
I slowly turned back.
Alpha Magnus was watching me with a small smile.
“Still defending a dead traitor?” he asked.
“My mother was never proven guilty.”
“Your mother confessed.”
“She confessed after three days in your cells.”
Silence.
Dead, absolute silence.
A dangerous darkness passed over Magnus’s face. For the first time that night, his calm mask cracked.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
So did Theron.
His head lifted sharply, eyes locking on mine.
Something flickered across his expression.
Warning.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
Magnus stepped closer until he towered over me. “You should be grateful, Vanya. Tonight, your blood will finally serve a purpose.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“By dying?”
“By paying a debt.”
“I didn’t kill those wolves.”
“No,” he said softly. “But your blood has always belonged to Nightveil.”
The words slipped through the courtyard like a blade.
My pulse stumbled.
“What does that mean?”
Magnus smiled again, but there was no warmth in it. “It means your mother’s sins have finally come due.”
He turned to the pack.
“By ancient law, by blood debt, and by the authority of Hollowmere, Vanya Thorne will be delivered beyond the border as an offering to Alpha Kaiden Draven.”
A low rumble of approval passed through the crowd.
My body went cold.
Delivered beyond the border.
To Nightveil.
To him.
I looked at Theron again.
This time, his eyes did not drop.
He looked furious.
Not helpless.
Furious.
Then he mouthed one word.
Run.
Before I could react, Elder Orick grabbed my wrists and bound them with silver-threaded rope.
The burn was instant.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from crying out. Silver did not kill us unless it entered the blood, but against skin it was agony, a slow, blistering heat that made every nerve scream.
Liora stepped down from the stairs as the guards pulled me forward.
She stopped beside me, close enough that her rose perfume drowned out the scent of stone and smoke.
“You always wanted to be special,” she whispered. “Congratulations.”
I stared at her.
“You knew.”
Her smile widened.
“Of course I knew.”
Something inside me went still.
It was not shock.
It was not even pain.
It was the terrible quiet that came when your heart finally stopped begging people to be better than they were.
The guards dragged me through the courtyard gates.
No one said goodbye.
No one prayed.
No one cried.
The pack followed at a distance as I was marched down the western path, through the village, past the houses where warm candlelight glowed behind windows. Children peered out from behind curtains. Mothers pulled them back quickly, as if looking at me too long might spread whatever curse they believed I carried.
The forest waited ahead.
Black, endless, hungry.
The trees rose like claws against the red moon.
Every step closer made my wolf stir beneath my skin.
Not enough to shift.
Never enough.
That was another mark against me. At twenty, I still had not fully shifted. Most wolves met their beasts at sixteen. Some at seventeen. Rare ones at eighteen.
But mine remained buried.
A shadow in my bones.
A growl in my dreams.
Another reason Hollowmere called me defective.
The boundary stones appeared through the mist.
Tall, ancient slabs carved with runes older than pack memory. On one side was Hollowmere land. On the other, Nightveil territory.
The guards stopped.
Elder Orick untied my wrists only long enough to shove me forward. The rope fell away, leaving angry red burns around my skin.
He leaned close to my ear.
“Try to scream loudly when they find you,” he whispered. “It will comfort the pack to know peace has been restored.”
I turned my head and spat blood at his feet.
His expression twisted.
Before he could hit me again, a voice cut through the trees.
“Enough.”
Theron.
Every head turned.
He stood a few steps behind the guards, fists clenched, face pale beneath the moonlight.
Alpha Magnus’s voice sharpened. “Careful, boy.”
Theron’s jaw worked.
For one breath, I thought he might expose something. Some secret. Some truth. Anything.
Instead, he looked at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The words struck harder than the slap.
Sorry did not save me.
Sorry did not untie my hands.
Sorry did not stop them from throwing me to monsters.
I gave him the only thing I had left.
My hatred.
Then Elder Orick shoved me across the border.
The moment my foot touched Nightveil soil, the air changed.
Power rolled over my skin.
Dark.
Electric.
Alive.
My knees nearly buckled as invisible pressure wrapped around my chest. Hollowmere land had always felt heavy, like a chain. But Nightveil felt like a beast breathing beneath the earth.
Behind me, the guards retreated.
I spun around.
They were already walking away.
“Cowards!” I shouted.
No one turned back.
The mist swallowed them one by one until only Theron remained at the boundary.
He lifted something in his hand.
A small silver pendant.
My mother’s pendant.
My breath stopped.
I had not seen it since the night she died.
Theron pressed it to his chest, then pointed deeper into the forest.
Go.
Then he vanished into the fog.
For a second, I stood there frozen, my mind tearing itself apart.
Theron had my mother’s pendant.
Why?
How?
And why had he waited until now to show me?
A howl rose in the distance.
Low.
Long.
Close enough to make my blood turn to ice.
I ran.
Branches clawed at my dress. Thorns ripped the silk. Cold mud splattered up my legs as I stumbled through the trees, barely able to see through the mist. My lungs burned. My cheek throbbed. My wrists ached from the silver burns.
Another howl answered.
Then another.
They were not far away.
My wolf slammed against my ribs.
Move, she seemed to snarl.
For once, I agreed with her.
I pushed harder, dodging trunks, jumping roots, slipping down a mossy slope. My shoulder slammed into a tree, sending pain bursting through my side, but I kept going.
The forest shifted around me.
That was the only way to explain it.
Paths vanished. Trees appeared where there had been open space. The mist thickened until I could barely see my hands in front of me. Nightveil territory was not just land.
It was alive.
And it did not want me there.
A dark shape moved between the trees to my left.
I stopped so fast my feet skidded.
A wolf stepped into view.
Massive.
Black as midnight.
Its eyes glowed pale silver.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Another wolf appeared behind me.
Then another.
They circled slowly, silent except for the low rumble in their chests.
I backed away, hands raised.
“I didn’t kill your warriors,” I said, though I had no idea whether they understood me in this form. “My pack sent me here. I didn’t come willingly.”
The black wolf tilted its head.
Listening.
That was somehow worse.
A branch cracked behind me.
I turned and ran again.
The wolves gave chase.
Panic ripped through me. My body became nothing but instinct. I ran blindly through mist and moonlight, my dress tearing, my feet bleeding, my breath shredding apart in my chest.
The ground dropped suddenly.
I screamed as I slid down a steep bank, rocks cutting into my palms. I hit the bottom hard and rolled, pain exploding through my hip.
When I lifted my head, the world opened before me.
A cliff.
A river roared far below, black water crashing against jagged stone.
Dead end.
I scrambled backwards, but the wolves were already there.
Three shadows at the tree line.
Silent.
Waiting.
Then the mist behind them parted.
A man stepped through.
Every wolf lowered its head.
Not in fear.
In respect.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in black. His dark hair was damp from mist, falling carelessly over his forehead. The angles of his face were harsh and beautiful in a way that made my breath catch despite the terror clawing through me.
But his eyes were what pinned me in place.
Silver.
Cold.
Unnatural.
Kaiden Draven.
Alpha of Nightveil.
The monster.
He looked at me once, and I felt it like a hand around my throat.
His gaze travelled over my torn dress, the blood on my lip, the bruises on my arms, the silver burns circling my wrists.
Something dangerous moved across his face.
Not pity.
Never pity.
Something sharper.
“Who did this to you?” he asked.
His voice was deep and controlled, but power threaded through every word.
I laughed, breathless and bitter. “You’re asking because you want to thank them?”
The wolves growled.
Kaiden raised one hand.
They fell silent instantly.
His eyes remained on mine. “You are Hollowmere.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Magnus sent you?”
“He offered me,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
Kaiden took one step closer.
My heel slipped on loose stone.
The river thundered beneath me.
He stopped immediately.
For one strange second, his face tightened.
“Move away from the edge,” he said.
“Why?” I whispered. “Planning to kill me somewhere more convenient?”
His jaw flexed.
“I do not kill women left bleeding at my border.”
“Lucky me.”
His nostrils flared slightly.
Then his gaze dropped to my wrists.
The silver burns pulsed hot under his stare, and something inside me responded. My wolf lifted her head. The air shifted. A strange warmth flickered beneath my skin, spreading from my chest to my fingertips.
Kaiden noticed.
His expression changed.
The cold control cracked.
Only for a moment.
But I saw it.
He moved too fast for me to react.
One second he was several feet away.
The next, his hand closed around my wrist.
The moment his skin touched mine, the world split open.
Heat exploded through my veins.
Not pain.
Recognition.
My knees gave way, but Kaiden caught me against him. His arm locked around my waist, hard and possessive, pulling me against the solid wall of his chest. The scent of him surrounded me instantly — cedar, smoke, rain, and something wild that made my wolf go utterly still.
Then she whispered one word through my bones.
Mate.
No.
No, no, no.
I shoved at his chest, but the bond burned brighter. My palms met muscle beneath his black shirt, and another wave of heat rushed through me. My breath tangled. His eyes darkened from silver to storm.
Kaiden stared down at me like I had just ruined him.
Like I had become the one thing he could not control.
Behind him, one of the wolves snarled in shock.
“Alpha?” a male voice asked from the trees.
Kaiden did not look away from me.
His grip tightened.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to claim.
I hated the way my body noticed.
I hated the way my wolf leaned closer.
I hated that for the first time in my life, being held did not feel like being trapped.
It felt like being protected.
Kaiden lowered his head until his mouth was near my ear.
His voice was a growl, rough and shaken beneath the command.
“Tell me your name.”
I should have lied.
I should have stayed silent.
But the bond pulled the truth from me.
“Vanya,” I whispered. “Vanya Thorne.”
A sound tore from his chest.
Half growl.
Half curse.
The wolves behind him went deadly still.
Kaiden pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.
His face had gone pale beneath the moonlight.
“What?” I demanded. “What is it?”
He did not answer.
Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a torn strip of bloodstained fabric.
White silk.
My stomach dropped.
On the fabric, written in dark, dried blood, were three words.
Send the Thorne girl.
My breath vanished.
Kaiden’s eyes burned into mine.
“Your pack did not send you here to keep peace,” he said. “They sent you because someone in Nightveil asked for you.”
The forest went silent.
Even the river seemed to still.
Then a howl rose from somewhere behind us.
Not Nightveil.
Not Hollowmere.
Something else.
Kaiden’s arm tightened around me as his warriors shifted around us.
From the mist, a voice whispered my name.
“Vanya…”
My blood turned cold.
Because I knew that voice.
I had heard it every night in my dreams since I was seven years old.
My mother.
And then the dead woman stepped out of the trees.
