Dominic’s tone didn’t waver. “I have waited long enough. The time for hesitation is past. Skymist needs every protection the moon can grant.”
Someone near the front spoke without permission, “You mean, you’re taking a mate?”
A ripple of sound, shocked laughter, approval, disbelief.
Dominic’s gaze cut sharply in that direction, and the noise died immediately.
“I mean,” he said, “that I have received God’s call to do so. The bond will strengthen the pack. The ceremony will be held tonight.”
The wordtonightlanded heavily. No preparation, no courtship, no ceremony planned months ahead as tradition demanded. Immediate. Unchangeable as the tide.
Layla’s breath caught. She wasn’t sure why.
Dominic’s voice deepened, quieter now, but the kind of quiet that makes the world lean in to hear. “There is no time to waste. The decision belongs to Lunarion, and it is made.”
All around her, the pack buzzed, whispers under breath, fragments of speculation. Mating was a common occurrence, similar to marriage, but a mate chosen by Lunarion? That was a rare thing indeed. Those alphas who found their chosen mate were rumored to receive special powers from Lunarion himself.
Of course, many claimed to have a chosen mate. To strengthen an alliance, to garner support, even in the interests of being romantic. A true mating, as it was known, was rare indeed.
Someone said, “A Nordan girl, perhaps?”
And someone else, “He’ll choose from the Severney Pack, strengthen ties to that slippery lot against the Volnoye.”
Layla felt the edge of a bitter smile rise unbidden. They were probably right. That was how it worked. Politics first, heart second. If there was room for heart at all.
She was barely paying attention now, her thoughts drifting to how quickly she could leave once the announcement was made. She needed to check the basement again, to make sure nothing had—
“Before the God,” Dominic said, “and before the pack, I name my mate.”
The words froze her where she stood.
The hum of the crowd ceased as if cut by a knife. The silence was total.
He paused, not for effect, she thought, but for grounding. Like he was steadying himself before a blow.
Layla’s stomach turned.
And then his eyes found her.
The look was brief, unreadable, but it pinned her in place.
Dominic’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
“Layla Hawthorne.”
The name struck her like a physical force.
For a second, she didn’t understand it. It didn’t make sense. Someone else must have that name, another Hawthorne, a cousin, anyone. The words couldn’t possibly meanher.
But then the silence broke, and the whispers began, sharp, gasping, incredulous.
“Her?”
“The unshifted girl?”
“Isn’t she an outcast? Or was that just a rumor?”
Layla’s body went cold. Her throat worked, but no sound came out.
