The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 645

Chapter 645

Aria’s POV

The moon was almost full, two nights since the gates had closed behind Lucien.

For forty-eight hours I had shut myself away, refusing the light, refusing the whispers of the pack outside my chamber. The Omega attendants came and went like shadows, their hands gentle, their words muted. I let them dress me, feed me, braid my hair, but my mind was elsewhere-always elsewhere. I forced myself not to think of him. Not of Lucien’s defiant eyes when he was dragged away. Not of the way his wolf had howled through the bars, promising he would never bow, never break.

I told myself Aedric was an Alpha of honor. If he said Lucien would be released, then he would be. He wasn’t the kind of male to kill in the dark. Still, my wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin, restless with every heartbeat that dragged me closer to tonight.

The coronation.

The night I would be bound.

The night I would no longer be free.

The attendants fussed around me, fastening the silver-threaded cloak across my shoulders, smoothing the midnight-blue gown that trailed like a river behind me. Their hands smelled of lavender and fear. I sat there, unmoving, my body nothing but a vessel for the ceremony to come.

When the door burst open, I almost didn’t look up. But the scent hit me before the voice. Old parchment, herbs, the sharp bite of wolfsbane.

“Aria.”

Professor Maeryn.

Her footsteps were quick, furious, the heels of her boots clicking across the marble floor. I lifted my eyes and saw her face-lined with worry, her wolf close to the surface.

One glance at me, and her expression collapsed into sorrow,

“You don’t want this,” she breathed, her voice trembling

My throat was tight. “It isn’t about what I want.”

She crossed the room in three strides, lowering herself before me until her hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. The touch of her palms was warm grounding, the way it had been years ago when she taught me my first runes, my first discipline of wolf and mind.

“Child,” she whispered, and I hated the crack in her voice. “You do not belong here. I always believed you would find yourself again, that your path would return to you in its own time. But the Moon Goddess-she has twisted the weave. She has forced your hand too soon.”

Her thumb stroked my temple as if she could wipe away the truth. “If you bind yourself to Aedric, you will regret it until your last breath.”

Something inside me flinched, a spark of rebellion. But crushed it.

“Professor.” My voice was steel wrapped in silk. I took her hands from my face and held them between mine.

“You think I don’t hear the same whisper? You think my wolf doesn’t rage against these walls?”

Her eyes searched mine desperately, as if she could still reach me.

“But listen,” I continued, softer. “Three years I have bled for the Western Pack. Three years I have fought in their ranks, sworn their oaths, carried their scars. Every warrior here knows my name. Every pup here looks. to me with trust in their eyes. I will not abandon them.”

“Aria-”

“No.” I cut her off, shaking my head. “Perhaps I had another life. Perhaps once I belonged elsewhere. But that past is a ghost. This pack-this soil soaked in blood and sweat-this is what I am bound to now. Protecting it is my duty. My honor.”

Her lips trembled with unspoken words, but she never had the chance to speak them.

“I understand,” he said lightly, though his voice carried andden edge. “You want to wait. Until after the ceremony.”

He smiled then, wide and confident, as if my rejection ldn’t cut at all. As if he were so certain that once the moon bore witness, I would yield.

“I will be waiting for you, my Luna,” he promised, bowing his head slightly.

Then he turned, speaking over his shoulder to the attendants. His words were crisp orders about timing, about my veil, about the sacred procession through the ball. They nodded furiously, their hands trembling.

Aedric lingered only long enough to let his dominance every corner of the room, then left with the easy stride of a male already victorious.

The door closed behind him, and the chamber felt colder.

The Omega attendants hovered in silence, adjusting my gown, smoothing my hair again. But my wolf thrashed inside me, slamming against the cage of my ribs.

I had spoken of honor. Of duty. Of blood and soil. And yet, as the moon rose higher, I could not silence the echo of Macryn’s voice in my ears.

You do not belong here.

Her words clung like a scent I couldn’t shake, like a shadow at my back.

And for the first time in days, Lucien’s face surged to the forefront of my mind-his eyes, fierce and unbroken, like a promise.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, until I tasted blood.

Tonight, under the full moon, I would be crowned Lun of the Western Pack.

And yet a part of me-the deepest, wildest part of me-howled in protest.