She turned.
And fuck me, the world stopped turning with her.
Penelope Hart.
Standing in the middle of flashing lights, bass drops, and sweat-slicked bodies—but all I saw was her.
Her eyes met mine. Wide. Cautious. Glowing like twin moons in the dark.
And everything snapped.
The mate bond slammed into me like a goddamn freight train.
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't do anything but feel her.
Not the slow burn I'd convinced myself I'd missed out on in this life. No. This wasn't gentle. It was violent. A rupture. A goddamn awakening.
My wolf stilled. Heart pounding in sync with mine. For once, Damon wasn't fighting me.
Mate.
It wasn't a question. It was a truth older than time.
Penelope didn't say a word.
She didn't need to.
She just stared—like she felt it too. Her lips parted slightly, chest rising in shallow breaths, like the bond had struck her lungs as hard as it hit mine.
I took a step forward.
Her fingers twitched at her side.
Two minutes. Maybe less. Maybe more. I couldn't tell. Time was distorted—warped by the weight of her gaze.
The forest of bodies blurred around us. The music faded into a dull thump. All I knew was her.
And gods… she looked like freedom.
But then—
A flicker of memory rose up like bile.
A different set of eyes.
A different voice.
"I love you, Alex. I'd never betray you."
Freya.
Not my Beta. Not my soldier.
zara
Ronan's sister.
Shadowmoor's golden girl. Their precious daughter. The one I let in when I was too young and too fucking hopeful.
She wore the bond like a weapon. Told me we were destined. Said she felt it. Played me like a damn puppet while she smiled sweet and bled secrets from my veins.
She sold us out to Shadowmoor
Stood at my side while she let them in through the southern border.
I watched my soldiers bleed for her betrayal.
I buried people because I believed in her.
And when I confronted her, she didn't even flinch.
She just tilted her head and said, "Don't be dramatic, Alex. It's just war."
No remorse. No tears. Just venom under a silk dress.
I never felt the bond—not really.
But I was young. Stupid. I thought I could grow into it. I thought maybe it would snap into place if I just gave it time.
It never did.
Because she was never mine.
And now—years later, when I'd written off the whole fucking concept as a cruel myth—Penelope showed up.
And the bond didn't just appear. It roared.
But she's from Shadowmoor.
Just like zara
The same land. The same bloodline. The same sick scent of betrayal woven into their history.
And yet…
Penelope looked at me like she was terrified to hurt anyone.
Like the idea of cruelty had never once lived behind those big, soft eyes.
There was nothing manipulative in her stare.
No calculation. No masks.
She didn't even try to draw me in—she just was.
That's what made it worse.
Because I wanted her.
More than I'd ever wanted anything.
And I didn't know how to have her without tearing down the fortress I'd built to survive.
I clenched my fists, grounding myself in the pain, the sharp sting of nails cutting skin.
She was nothing like Freya.
Different posture. Different energy. Different soul.
She didn't play power games—she shrank from them. Like she'd been burned too many times.
She looked soft, but I'd seen the quiet edge in her spine. She was a fighter.
And that made her dangerous in a way I wasn't ready for.
Because she could undo me.
Because she already was.
My body burned for her. My wolf howled for her.
But my mind?
It screamed.
I turned.
And I ran.
Through the bodies. Into the cold. Away from the lights. Into the woods.
Where I belonged.
Where the ghosts waited.
The second the music died behind me, it hit—the full weight of what just happened.
She's my mate.
My real mate.
Not Zara. Not the lie.
This time, it was real. I felt it.
But the blood in my veins remembered.
The betrayal. The humiliation. The war that nearly killed half my pack because I trusted the wrong woman from the wrong place.
Shadowmoor.
I punched a tree. Bark splintered. My knuckles split.
"Fuck," I snarled, dragging in a shaking breath.
Damon growled low in my head. Not angry—desperate.
She's not zara
"I know that."
You're punishing her for someone else's sins.
"I can't trust her."
You already do.
I collapsed to my knees, forehead pressed against cold earth.
Images of zara flashed behind my eyelids—her smirk when I told her I'd figured it out. The way she didn't deny it. Didn't beg. Just turned her back and walked away like I was nothing.
She's alive.
Still breathing. Still dangerous.
Still wearing that Shadowmoor crest like she didn't help light a match to my world.
And Penelope?
She's hers.
Same pack. Same legacy.
But gods, she's not her.
Penelope looked at me like she wasn't sure she was worthy of being looked at.
Like she was waiting to be thrown aside.
I've seen girls seduce with their eyes.
But she?
She ached.
And fuck me—I ached back.
I growled, fists buried in the dirt.
"I won't lose her."
Not again.
Not this one.
I don't care where she came from. I don't care what blood runs in her veins. She could be zara's fucking sister and I'd still claim her.
Because this time, the bond is real.
This time, the gods got it right.
And I'll be damned before I let the past steal her from me.