Chapter 1

I am Elena Silvermoon, daughter of the Silver Moon Pack's Alpha.

Before choosing my lifelong mate, I knelt alone before the ancient altar of the Moon Goddess, following Silver Moon tradition—praying for divine guidance under the full moon.

Most werewolves receive only vague premonitions, fleeting images, or sometimes nothing at all. But I was different.

The Moon Goddess granted me a complete, crystal-clear, undeniable vision of the future.

I saw myself in a white ceremonial gown, standing at the center of the sacred marking stones, completing the marking ritual with Lucas Whitehall.

His fangs pierced the side of my neck, declaring the union of our souls and instincts.

The pack's cheers were deafening, my father watched us with satisfaction, love shone in my eyes—everything was perfect.

Then the vision shifted.

Just months later, Lucas's "body" was brought back to the pack. They said he'd been ambushed by a rival pack during routine patrol and died heroically in battle.

I watched myself kneeling beside his cold corpse, tears streaming down my face, the whole world drained of color.

The vision twisted again, as if torn by an invisible hand.

At the edge of unfamiliar territory, deep in dense pine forest. I saw Lucas—who was "supposed to be dead"—alive, pulling a she-wolf tightly into his embrace.

It was Livia Green.

The illegitimate daughter of the Green family, always keeping her head down, playing the pitiful victim.

The moment the vision ended, my entire body began to shake violently. My fingertips were ice-cold, as if frozen in eternal winter night.

So he never loved me. He would even fake his death to escape me.

"Elena?"

Father's deep voice pulled me from my memories. He sat upright on the Alpha's throne, his silver-gray eyes full of affection and expectation.

On the long table before him lay four scrolls neatly arranged—detailed profiles of four potential mates.

"Have you decided?" he asked, his voice gentle yet carrying undeniable authority. "Who will you choose as your mate?"

...

I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Father, I—"

"I'm guessing it's Lucas, isn't it?" He smiled and interrupted, reaching for one of the scrolls. "You've followed him around since childhood. The whole pack has been waiting for this day. If you've decided, I can announce it right now—"

"No!"

The word tore from my throat, so sharp it startled even me.

Father froze, the scroll suspended in midair. "What's wrong, child?"

My nails dug deep into my palms. The scenes from the vision flashed repeatedly through my mind.

Lucas gazing tenderly at Livia, their kiss under the moonlight, those moments that once made me ache with suffocating pain—now they left only bone-deep cold.

"I'm not choosing Lucas Whitehall."

This time, my voice was remarkably calm.

Father's brow furrowed, clearly confused by my decision. But he didn't press, simply placing Lucas's scroll back on the table in silence.

"Then who do you want?"

My gaze swept across the remaining three scrolls, finally settling on the one at the far edge. I reached out and picked it up with an air of finality.

The moment I unrolled it, a proud face came into view. Dark brows, deep-set eyes, lips curved in a devil-may-care arc.

Kaine Blackwood.

Since childhood, he'd been my greatest rival. We argued whenever we met, always at odds, never backing down.

Last time, he'd hung my favorite cloak at the top of the tallest pine tree in our territory, making me so angry I chased him halfway across Silver Moon Mountain.

But in this moment, looking at those untamed eyes in the portrait, my heart inexplicably settled.

Perhaps precisely because he never pretended, never deceived.

"Kaine?" Father nearly knocked over the teacup on the table in shock. "Are you serious? You two aren't—"

"I've thought it through, Father." I met his eyes directly. "I choose Kaine Blackwood."

Before the words fully left my mouth, the council chamber doors suddenly burst open.

Four familiar figures walked in—the four mate candidates. Clearly, they'd been waiting outside for the results.

The most lively one, Edwin Reynolds, immediately rushed over. "Has the princess chosen? Who is it?"

The refined Henry Grey smiled. "Do you even need to ask? Of the four of us, the least likely to be chosen is Kaine. If those two become mates, they'll tear the whole territory apart. Obviously it's Lucas—the princess has followed him around since she was little—"

His words weren't finished when what happened next left everyone frozen in place.

Lucas Whitehall—that cold, moonlike figure who never lost composure in public—suddenly dropped to his knees.

"Alpha," his voice was low but firm, "I request to withdraw from mate candidacy."

The room erupted in shocked murmurs.

He raised his head, his eyes holding a resolve I'd never seen before. "My heart belongs to another. I can only fail Elena's trust. I ask that you and Elena grant me this."

I watched him kneeling on the ground quietly, a complex mix of emotions suddenly surging through me.

So that's how it is.

The Moon Goddess's vision hadn't come only to me.

He must have seen something too—enough to make him, in this moment, before everyone, make such a decisive choice.

He just didn't know that the fate he wanted to escape, I had already cut off before him.

"Please rise, Lucas." I spoke lightly, my lips curving in a mocking arc even I didn't fully register. "Your request is granted."

I looked down at the scroll in my hand bearing Kaine's image, feeling for the first time that perhaps fate was giving me a chance to begin again—in another way.