a Silver

g, my journal in my lap, trying to make myself as small as possible. In the center of the square, my grandfather, the Alph

simple, worn traveling clothes, his jet-black hair slightly messy. He held a small, strange bouquet of what looked like dead, reddish flowers.

to a halt. Every eye in the pack turned to h

g unnaturally still. A low growl rumbled in his chest, to

nose wrinkled. She scented his weakness, saw his plain clothes, and the recognition was instantly crushed by disgust. My cousin had been r

teps measured and graceful, and knelt on one knee before

rough the murmuring crowd. "I request permission to join the Silve

uquet of withered

h the pack. A weak rogue, fated to our pa

glorious moment of destiny; it was a public humiliation.

f with rage. She glanced at the flowers h

er chin, her voice ringing out, clear and cruel, f

una of the Silver Ridge Pack,

earing of a soul bond, a pain I couldn't imagine. But his face remained a blank ma

e asked, his voice s

ce rose, becoming shrill. "I will neve

most sacrilegious act. But looking at Dravon's unassuming presenc

ected mate lingering in our territory would be a source of endless gossip and shame

y moved before m

than ever as I made my way through the stunned crowd

story my mother used to tell me, a secret oath my ancestors made to a grea

rs and Elara's gasp of outrage, I spoke, my voice

mate to be accepted into

shrieked, her face contorted with

Ridge Pack is not without honor," I said, my voice gaining a

em. His scent, which I could now smell up close, wasn't weak. It was just... quiet. Like a sleeping volcano. It smelled of dee

ubstitute, but the man himself gave a slow, deliberate

k's flawed legacy, the cripple. Using me to solve this embarr

his voice booming. "The