The full moon hung heavy and silver in the night sky, bathing the clearing behind the Steel Pack estate in an ethereal glow. Dozens of werewolves had gathered—strong, predatory figures in casual clothes or ceremonial robes, their eyes reflecting the lunar light with unnatural brightness. Laughter and low growls mixed with the crackle of a massive bonfire. Drums beat in a primal rhythm that vibrated through Faith’s bones.
She stood at Ronan’s side on a raised wooden platform, wearing a deep crimson gown that hugged her waist and flared at her hips. It had been chosen for her, like everything else. Her dark hair fell loose down her back, and she kept her chin high despite the curious and sometimes hostile stares from the pack.
Luna. The title still felt like a joke.
Ronan looked every bit
