Page 21 of The Onyx Covenant

My father pushes past Magnus, reaching for my arm to examine the manacle. “This is outrageous,” he growls, looking up at Theron with pure hatred. “An Umbra champion cannot claim an Elios Omega! It violates the most sacred rules of the Harvest!”

“Yet the magic has accepted the claiming,” my mother observes quietly, her fingers hovering over the glowing band. “Look… the patterns match perfectly.”

She’s right. The silver veins running through both our manacles have arranged themselves into identical patterns, pulsing with the same rhythm. According to everything I’ve ever been taught about the Harvest Ritual, this shouldn’t be possible. The Alpha and Omega team must be from the same pack, ensuring the winner comes from only one pack to take over the Onyx Covenant.

“I will have this undone,” Magnus declares. “The Onyx Covenant will hear of this perversion.”

“They can’t undo it,” Theron replies, standing his ground despite the threat emanating from his father. “Once the manacles have accepted the pairing?—”

“You dare to lecture me on ancient law?” Magnus cuts him off, taking a menacing step forward. “This is a deliberate insult to our pack. To claim an Elios wolf, and not just any Elios—the daughter of their Alpha?”

My father turns to Magnus, his anger momentarily redirected. “If anyone should be outraged, it’s me. Your son has trapped my daughter in a ritual that could get her killed!”

The full weight of the situation settles on me. I’m bound to Theron Shadowmane. We will face the trials together, our lives literally dependent on each other’s survival. After a year of heartbreak and hatred, fate has forced us back together in the cruelest possible way.

“This changes nothing,” Magnus blurts out. “You still need to present yourself with your… chosen Omega at the Onyx Covenant by midnight to begin the Harvest Ritual.” He spits the wordschosen Omegalike they’re poison. “As for this… abomination…” His gaze shifts between Theron and me, contempt evident in every line of his face. “The Onyx Covenant will decide what to do about it.”

With that, he turns and stalks back into the ballroom.

My parents remain, my father looking as though he might physically tear Theron limb from limb, my mother’s face unreadable as she studies our bound wrists.

“I need to speak with my daughter,” my father says finally, the tightly controlled rage behind his words making me flinch. “Alone.”

“We can speak in the adjacent room,” my mother suggests, gesturing to a small antechamber back inside the building. “The binding allows for up to fifty feet of separation.”

The thought of being able to put even that small distance between us brings momentary relief until I remember that this invisible tether will remain for the duration of the Harvest Ritual.

“I’ll wait here,” Theron states. “But don’t go farther than the next room. The pain starts gradually, but it becomes… intense.”

My father’s jaw tightens dangerously, but he nods once, sharply, and nudges me toward the antechamber. The moment we cross the threshold, I feel it—a slight tugging sensation at my wrist, not quite painful but definitely present. A constant reminder that I’m no longer completely free.

“What has he done to you?” my father demands the moment the door closes. “How is this even possible?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my own shock still making it difficult to think clearly. “The manacle activated, he grabbed my wrist, and…” I gesture helplessly at the glowing band.

“And the magic accepted it,” my mother finishes, her eyes fixed on the manacle with unsettling intensity. “This is unprecedented. In all the history of the Harvest that I’m aware of, there has never been a cross-pack claiming. And there’s a reason for that—to ensure the team who wins will be the one pack that takes control of the Onyx Covenant for the next ten years.”

“It’s forbidden!” my father explodes. “He’s trapped our daughter. The trials are designed to be lethal. How many participants don’t return each decade? And now she’s bound to the son of our greatest enemy!”

“I’m right here,” I remind them, frustration cutting through my shock. “And I can handle myself. I’m not some helpless Omega who needs protection.”

Both my parents turn to look at me incredulously.

“Lyra,” my mother says carefully. “You don’t understand what this means. The Harvest Ritual isn’t just a physical challenge. It tests the bond between Alpha and Omega, forces them to work together in ways that?—”

“That require trust,” I finish for her. “I know the stories.”

What I don’t say—what I can’t say—is that Theron and I once had that trust. Before he shattered it. Before I spent a year trying to hate him.

“We need to get back to Wolfhaven immediately,” my father decides. “The Onyx Covenant might be able to dissolve this binding. If a partner requests removal on grounds of inability or unfairness, it’s not too late. And Theron can still continue the games on his own.”

I don’t say anything, as I’m still in shock myself.

My father curses, a rare display of raw emotion from the usually composed Alpha.

Mother turns to me, her expression softening slightly. “Lyra, is there something you’re not telling us about you and the Alpha’s son?”

My heart stops for a beat, then races to catch up. Does she know? Has she somehow figured out what happened between us?

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