The air in the chapel became unbreathable. Castian's presence was like a slab of lead upon the chests of everyone present. Aurora, caught between Baron Silas's sweaty grip and the newcomer's steel gaze, felt her new wolf blood boil. Her senses, now ultra-sensitive, detected something no one else perceived: the scent of sulfur, ancient woods, and predators lurking in the shadows of the wooden pews.
"Guards! Kill this insolent fool!" Aurora's father shrieked, breaking the deathly silence. "Protect the bride!"
But the mansion guards didn't move. They stood paralyzed, eyes wide with terror, staring at Castian as if they were facing the Grim Reaper himself.
However, the chaos didn't come from the guards. It came from the guests.
Suddenly, five of the nobles who had been observing the ceremony let out inhuman snarls. Their fine clothes shredded as their bodies contorted into impossible positions. They weren't human. They were infiltrators from the Northern and Southern packs—spies who had tracked the White Wolf's aura to this tiny chapel.
"She is Destiny!" roared one of them, a man who moments ago looked like a refined count and now displayed four-inch fangs. "Our pack will prosper for a thousand years with her blood! She is my destined Mate!"
"You lie, crawling dog!" another screamed, half-shifting, his face covered in gray fur. "The prophecy says she belongs to the King of the Mountains! She is mine!"
Aurora backed away, hitting the altar. Panic flooded her. She didn't understand what they were talking about. "Destined Mate?" "The prophecy?" She only knew those men were looking at her with a mixture of divine hunger and political ambition. Her beauty—the very thing that an hour ago gave her power over her family—now made her a coveted prey for monsters.
Then, Castian moved.
It wasn't a run; it was a blur. The outcast Alpha lunged at the first infiltrator with a brutality that made Aurora choke back a scream. Castian didn't fight like a knight; he fought like an unleashed force of nature. With a bare hand, he caught the gray wolf's claw and, with a sharp twist, snapped his neck. The sound of bone crunching echoed against the stone walls like a gunshot.
"No one," Castian said, his voice low and vibrating, as he dodged a rear attack and buried his runic dagger into another attacker's chest, "lays a hand on what belongs to me."
Baron Silas, in a fit of stupidity and cowardice, tried to pull Aurora toward a rear exit. "You're coming with me, damn it! I paid for you!"
Castian turned his head. His gray eyes flashed with a dark silver hue. In one fluid motion, he threw his dagger. The weapon whistled past the Baron's ear, embedding itself deep into the altar's wood, millimeters from his neck. The Baron wet himself and let go of Aurora, collapsing to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Aurora stood free in the middle of a battlefield. The chapel was now a den of blood, snarls, and shifting forms. The infiltrators, realizing Castian was a greater obstacle than expected, joined forces to attack him at once.
That was when Castian looked at her.
Despite the chaos, the wolves leaping at him, and her family's screams, time slowed for Aurora. Castian reached out a hand to her. Their gazes locked, and for the first time, Aurora felt the true "awakening." An electric spark raced through every nerve in her body, from her fingertips to the base of her spine. It was a gravitational pull—a violent tug of her very soul toward his. Her purple eyes glowed with such intensity they illuminated the chapel.
"It is him," the essence of the White Wolf whispered within her. "Your counterpart. Your darkness."
Castian roared—a sound that was neither human nor common wolf, but something deeper, hybrid and ancestral. The burst of power that emanated from him hurled the attackers against the walls. The man strode through the debris and wounded bodies, reaching Aurora.
He took her by the waist, pressing her pale, slender body against his massive chest covered in leather and blood. The contrast was hypnotic: her, a vision of white light and lunar purity; him, the embodiment of war and shadows.
"Listen well, parasites," Castian declared, his voice projecting toward the wolves still breathing and her horrified family watching from the corners. "Heaven and earth may call her their destiny. The Alphas may claim she is their mate according to the laws of their cowardly packs."
He paused, tightening his grip on Aurora, who trembled at the intensity of his scent—sandalwood and storms.
"But this woman is my mate. And in my kingdom, destiny is written with the blood of my enemies. Whoever touches her, whoever looks at her, whoever dares to utter her name in their dreams... will die before they see the dawn."
Aurora looked at him, searching for safety, but what she found in Castian's eyes was a cold, calculating determination. He wasn't there to save the bullied girl; he was there to claim the ultimate weapon of his prophecy.
"Trust me, little wolf," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath contrasting with the night's chill. "Or stay here and let them tear you apart."
Aurora, seeing the infiltrators rising again and her father approaching with an iron net, closed her eyes and clung to Castian's shoulders. It wasn't trust; it was survival.
"Take me away from here," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper.
"With pleasure."
Castian didn't use the door. With superhuman strength, he scooped Aurora into his arms and sprinted toward the chapel's great stained-glass windows.
"No! Bring my daughter back! That beauty is my fortune!" her father screamed, but his words were lost in the roar.
Castian jumped. The glass shattered into a thousand diamonds that shimmered under the moon as they both fell into the void. The fall felt eternal—a whirlwind of freezing air and adrenaline. Aurora felt the controlled impact of Castian's feet against the forest floor, followed by a speed her human body could never have endured.
The landscape became a blur of green and black. The movement was rhythmic, violent yet secure. However, the trauma of the transformation, her father's murder attempt, and the electric connection to Castian were too much for her.
Her vision began to darken at the edges. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Castian's sharp profile, his gaze fixed on the horizon of the Forbidden Forest, and the realization that, although she had escaped death, she had just entered a war that would change the fate of all wolves forever.
Aurora faded out, unaware that the man carrying her wasn't her hero... but the monster who needed her sacrifice to become King once again.