CHAPTER TWO

“Alpha Thorne has arrived.”

Those who had been taking turns tormenting Celeste recoiled as the unmistakable silhouette of the man approached with a calm yet chilling aura.

It was bizarre—how someone with such striking features could wear dread like a second skin.

Brielle’s heart dropped to her stomach.

She’d heard countless stories about this man, and now, seeing him with her own eyes, she couldn’t hide the terror that gripped her. She instinctively ducked behind Alpha Alaric.

Why did Thorne have to show up now—right at the brink of Celeste’s death? Her unease quickly turned to resentment.

“I only invited him as a formality… I didn’t think he’d actually come,” Alaric whispered, his voice barely audible as he leaned toward Brielle. Unlike others, he never underestimated Thorne.

He was known for his keen insight—he could sniff out lies, detect guilt, and uncover hidden truths like a bloodhound. Alaric did his best to steel himself. He had evidence to cover his tracks, but Celeste? She had nothing but bloodied skin and silence. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself.

All eyes slowly turned to the commanding figure who now stepped into view.

Alpha Thorne's dark attire contrasted his pale skin, exuding power and mystery. With every footstep he took, silence deepened.

This was the first time many in the Wolfsbane Pack were laying eyes on Alpha Thorne of the Midnight Ridge, but they instantly knew who he was. His signature all-black clothing gave him away, a visual trademark that echoed stories whispered across territories.

Women stared, some entranced, others petrified. Thorne wasn’t just feared—he was revered, admired, and cursed all at once.

He approached Luna Celeste, who was a broken mess on the cold earth, but his gaze never drifted from Alaric, who stood firm but inwardly crumbled.

Alpha Thorne preferred solitude.

He rarely brought anyone along—not even his Beta. His warriors only acted when called upon. He didn’t need guards or council. His presence alone was a wall of steel.

Legends spoke of how even death itself turned its back on Thorne. He’d survived a blaze that leveled an entire camp. He’d resurfaced from drowning when all assumed he was long gone. His infamy only deepened after his mate was found murdered within his pack, the killer still unidentified.

He hadn’t been the same since.

“My wolf led me here... to my mate.” Thorne’s voice was soft, a whisper that seemed to roll in with the wind—but it struck like thunder.

Alaric went pale.

Mate?

No. That couldn't be right.

How had Celeste—just recently rejected—already become someone else’s second chance mate?

Celeste could hear the voice faintly, echoing from somewhere distant, as though it floated through the haze of her pain. She was barely conscious, her body a roadmap of bruises, her spirit clinging to life by a thread.

Fear was now a contagious disease in the crowd. Those who’d mocked and tormented her began edging away, calculating escape routes. Her skin was torn, blood trickled from wounds, and she was barely clothed. Yet, despite it all, hope flickered in her shattered soul.

Her wolf stirred.

She felt the healing begin.

“With due respect, Alpha Thorne,” Alaric began, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Which she-wolf do you mean? This woman was once mine, but she betrayed me. Slept with another. I have proof.”

He offered his phone. Thorne glanced at the screen briefly before returning it, his face unreadable.

The audience leaned in, breath held. Would this feared Alpha strike the woman down now?

Instead, he crouched slowly beside her, eyes narrowing as he studied her face. Something flashed behind those cold eyes—a memory perhaps. His expression changed.

Recognition.

His jaw tightened. His fists clenched. “It’s you,” he said, his voice now a rasp of barely-contained rage.

Celeste blinked up at him, disoriented. Did she know him? She tried to speak but couldn’t form the words.

“You know her?” Alaric asked, though suspicion danced in his eyes.

Thorne stood abruptly, tension radiating from his shoulders. Then a bitter chuckle escaped his lips.

“Karma never forgets,” he muttered.

He had spent years searching for both justice and redemption. For his murdered human mate. For a new beginning.

But not with this woman.

Celeste’s wolf, moments ago alive with joy, retreated with dread. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Then the words came. Words like blades.

“I, Alpha Thorne, reject you as my mate…” He paused, turning slightly.

“What is your name?”

Alaric, too eager, stepped forward.

“Her name is Celeste,” he answered quickly.

Gasps erupted. The moment felt unreal.

Alpha Thorne was rejecting her too?

His gaze iced over. “I reject you, Celeste.”

Paralyzed, Celeste knew better than to challenge it. Though her body had just begun to heal, the moment she replied, everything shattered again.

“I... accept your rejection,” she said hollowly.

Something shifted in Thorne’s expression—but it vanished before anyone could name it.

Then came the scream—internal, primal, soul-crushing. Her wolf. Gone.

She tried again.

‘Astra...?’

No response.

She reached, clawed inward—but Astra had vanished. For the first time in her life, she felt hollow.

Footsteps receded. The crowd sighed. No one wanted to stay any longer. No one wanted to be involved with Thorne’s fury.

“The daughter of the dead Alpha must be cursed,” a rogue muttered, laughter trailing after him.

Alaric took advantage of the moment. He needed to finish this before the moon goddess gave her another mate. Before she came back with vengeance.

“End her!" he commanded his warriors.

If Thorne had claimed her, they would’ve been doomed. But now?

Brielle’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Thorne hadn’t lifted a finger to avenge her.

A sword unsheathed. A warrior approached.

Celeste’s lifeless gaze met the steel. Without her wolf, she was defenseless. Broken.

After two rejections, she didn’t care. Let it end, she thought.

“Say your final words,” the warrior whispered, blade rising.

But before it could reach her neck, a thunderous voice echoed across the clearing.

“STOP!”

Alaric and Brielle stiffened. That voice—

Thorne was turning back.

His cold stare swept over them like a death sentence.

One of the warriors whispered, “We’re dead.”

Celeste did not dare to hope.

Thorne’s next words weren’t comfort—they were knives dipped in acid.

“The traitorous daughter of a fallen Alpha deserves a fate worse than death. Let her live. Let her suffer.”

Alaric grinned, relieved.

But Celeste’s world turned dark again.

The venom in Thorne’s voice was more unbearable than death.

Without Astra, she collapsed, falling into unconsciousness.

When she regained consciousness, she wasn’t in the clearing… and it was nowhere she had anticipated.