Rana's mind was a whirlwind of disbelief and wonder.
She stood frozen in the middle of the ballroom, her hand still tingling from where Elian had touched it, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain everyone around her could hear it. The music swirled around her, the laughter of the guests echoed in her ears, but all of it felt distant, muffled, as if she were underwater.
The number on her chest felt like it was burning.
She had worn it without thinking, assuming it was just a formality—a way to participate in the evening's festivities, a harmless gesture that would have no real meaning. She had watched as younger wolves found their matches, their faces alight with joy, and she had felt a pang of bittersweet longing for something she had long ago stopped believing in.
But never—nev
