Page 3 of The Onyx Covenant

Their village is nothing like our scattered stone dwellings. The Umbra wolves build upward—multilevel structures of dark wood and stone that rise from the forest floor. Torches line the main paths, casting flickering shadows against walls decorated with trophies and symbols of the pack’s victories. Skulls hang from posts at regular intervals. A warning to enemies. A warning to me.

The Umbra pack’s idea of home looks like my pack’s idea of a nightmare.

I creep closer, staying within the tree line, my silver fur a liability in this darkness. Wolves gathered in clusters, the sound of laughter and conversation carrying to where I hide.

And then I see him.

Theron stands near the largest structure, his father’s home. He’s dressed formally in black leather armor accented with silver, his hair tied back to reveal the sharp angles of his face. Even from a distance, he steals my breath. The moonlight illuminates the strong curve of his jaw, the powerful breadth of his shoulders, and the scar on his collarbone.

My heart lurches painfully in my chest. He’s alive. He’s unharmed. He’s… not alone.

A woman stands beside him, tall and sleek, with hair the color of midnight that falls in a glossy curtain to her waist. Her dress, blood-red and clinging to every perfect curve, marks her as high-ranking. One delicate hand rests on Theron’s arm. When she laughs at something he says, her entire face transforms, revealing stunning beauty.

My insides knot into a sickening twist. I want to look away, but I can’t. It’s like watching my own heart being carved from my chest.

The Pack Alpha of the Umbra Wolves, Theron’s father, Magnus Shadowmane, is an imposing figure and impossible to mistake. Even from here, I spot the crimson gleam of his gaze as he watches his son with the woman. He says something that makes the woman smile wider, her hand tightening possessively on Theron’s arm.

And Theron—my Theron, who whispered promises against my skin and swore that nothing would keep us apart—doesn’t pull away. His expression remains neutral, unreadable at this distance, but he makes no move to reject her touch or her closeness.

The ground lurches beneath me. I’ve been a fool. A complete, utter fool.

As I watch, frozen in place, the woman leans closer, pressing her lips to Theron’s cheek. She lingers there, whispering something in his ear that makes his jaw tighten. Magnus places a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, his smile a predatory slash across his face.

A betrothal. It has to be. The formal clothes, his father’s presence, the public display—Theron is to be mated to this woman. Has it already happened? Has he already made her his while I waited by the river like a lovesick idiot?

Everything inside me shatters. Not just cracks but implodes, leaving a jagged hole where my heart should be. I can almost hear the pieces hitting the ground.

This is why he didn’t come. This is why he broke his promise. He’s being mated to another.

Bile rises in my throat, bitter and burning.

I was never going to be enough. An Elios wolf, daughter of his father’s enemy—what future could we have had? But oh, how I believed him when he whispered that we could change things, that together we could heal the rift between our packs.

What a fucking joke.

A soft whimper escapes me before I can stop it. Too quiet for the celebrating wolves to hear but enough to release the first crack in the dam of my control. The pain is right behind my ribs, taking my breath and blurring my vision.

I loved him. Goddess help me, I still love him, even as I watch him with her.

A gust of wind shifts direction, carrying my scent to the village. Theron stiffens suddenly, his head turning toward the trees where I hide. For one terrible moment, our gazes meet across the distance, his widening with recognition and shock.

I don’t wait to see more. I turn and run, pushing my body harder than I ever have before. Branches whip against my face and stones cut into my paws, but I barely feel the pain. It’s nothing compared to the agony tearing through my chest, the knowledge that every sweet word, every tender touch, every promise was a lie.

Or worse—that they were true, and still not enough to make him choose me.

Behind me, I hear a commotion. Shouts. The crashing of someone large moving through the underbrush. I push harder, fear mixing with my heartbreak that sets my blood on fire.

I dart between trees, changing direction frequently, using every trick I learned growing up in forests just like these. Glancing back, I spot a shadow rushing amid the woods like a demon, coming after me.

Heart thumping against my rib cage, I sprint faster.

The river appears ahead, its silver surface now a barrier I desperately need to cross. Just a few more yards…

Something heavy crashes into me from behind, sending me tumbling across the forest floor. Pain explodes in my side as I slam into a tree trunk, the impact forcing a yelp past my lips.

My attacker looms over me—a huge black wolf. Not Theron, but one of his pack. A guard, by the look of him, his muzzle scarred from numerous fights.

I try to scramble away, but he pins me with a paw, claws digging into my shoulder. Blood wells, hot and sticky, matting my fur. I snap at him, teeth catching only air as he jerks back.

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