The early morning air was thick with tension as Crescent Vale prepared for Alpha Lucas’ burial. His body lay in the ceremonial hall, shrouded in the Alpha’s Crest—a symbol of leadership, dominance, and the weight of the lives he had shaped and destroyed.

Jackson stood alone before the casket, his expression blank but his hands trembling at his sides. The memory of his father’s final moments haunted him, the betrayal of Michael—however unwilling—etched into his soul.

Selina entered quietly, her soft steps echoing in the vast hall. She had barely slept, her mind still reeling from the events of the previous night. She hesitated a moment before speaking.

“Jackson,” she said softly, her voice careful, like stepping onto fragile ice.

He didn’t look at her. “I told you not to come here.”

Selina swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m your Luna. I can’t ignore this, no matter how much you push me away.”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t respond.

Selina stepped closer, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Michael isn’t to blame for what happened. You know that, don’t you?”

Jackson’s head snapped toward her, his eyes blazing. “Don’t defend him!” he growled. “He killed my father. Rogue or not, possessed or not, he killed him.”

“But it wasn’t him, Jackson!” Selina said, her voice rising with emotion. “You saw the Rogue King—he controlled Michael, used him like a weapon. Punishing Michael won’t bring your father back. Sending both siblings out or back to their former lives might endanger them more. Especially in the hands of the Rogue king.”

Jackson’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “And what would you have me do? Forgive him? Welcome him with open arms? You think that’ll fix this?”

Selina took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “I am no wiser, but we need to stop fighting each other and start focusing on the real enemy. The Rogue King is out there, and he won’t stop until he’s torn this pack apart.”

Jackson turned away, his voice low and cold. “Leave me, Selina. Just… leave me alone.”

Her heart broke at his words. She knew there was no reaching him in this moment. She turned and left the hall, tears threatening to spill but she held back the emotions with several sighs.

Kaia sat on the cold, damp floor of her cell, her back against the wall. Her hands were bound, though she had no intention of fighting back—not yet. She stared at Michael, lying unconscious on a makeshift cot in the cell across from hers.

The door creaked open, and the sharp click of heels announced Morrigan’s arrival. The Alpha Priestess approached Kaia’s cell with slow, deliberate steps.

“You’ve made quite the impression,” Morrigan said, her voice calm but laced with curiosity.

Kaia looked up, her green eyes hard. “Is this where you tell me how much trouble I’ve caused?”

Morrigan chuckled softly. “No. This is where I tell you that you’ve done what few have dared to do—you’ve wounded the Rogue King. You’ve shaken him.”

Kaia’s expression didn’t change. “It wasn’t enough.”

“No, but it’s a start.” Morrigan’s tone shifted, becoming more serious. “Kaia, do you know why the Rogue King is so determined to destroy this pack?”

Kaia’s jaw tightened. “Because of Lucas. Because of what he did to my family.”

Morrigan nodded. “Partly. But there’s more. Lucas took something from the Rogue King—something powerful, something he’s been searching for ever since.”

“What is it?” Kaia asked, her voice sharp.

Morrigan hesitated, her eyes searching Kaia’s face. “A talisman. An artifact of ancient power that could tip the balance in his favor. Lucas stole it decades ago and hid it. The Rogue King believes it’s still here, in Crescent Vale.”

Kaia’s mind raced. If he gets that talisman, no one will be able to stop him.

Selina sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Jackson’s words echoed in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. He mind pondered to questions and dialogues, unanswered.

She glanced at the empty space beside her, the realization settling in that this wasn’t how their marriage was supposed to begin. Her father had always told her that being a Luna meant being strong, even when it felt impossible.

But strength didn’t mean silence.

She stood abruptly, her resolve hardening. If Jackson wouldn’t listen, she would act.

The burial ceremony was a somber affair, the entire pack gathered under the gray morning sky. It was the third day since his death. Lucas’ body was lowered into the ground, and the Elders spoke words of reverence and finality.

Jackson stood at the forefront, his expression stoic but his hands clenched into fists. Selina stood a few paces behind him, watching as the man she loved bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

As the ceremony ended, the pack began to disperse, murmurs of unease rippling through the crowd. The Rogue King’s attack had shaken them all, and the absence of Lucas’ domineering presence left a void they weren’t sure how to fill.

Jackson turned to leave, but Selina stepped in front of him, her eyes fierce.

“We need to talk,” she said firmly.

“Not now,” Jackson said, his voice strained.

“Yes, now,” she insisted. “I’m your Luna, Jackson. Reject me if you don't want me

“Watch your words, Selina.” Jackson warned. His voice, low but deep with maturity.

“If you truly love me then fine! Proof it to me! I’m not just here to stand by your side when it’s convenient. We have to face this together.”

Jackson stared at her for a long moment, his anger and grief warring with the love he couldn’t suppress. Finally, he nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

Before they could take another step, a scout came running toward them, his face pale.

“Alpha Jackson!” he called.

“What is it?” Jackson asked, his voice sharp.

The scout hesitated, his eyes darting toward Selina before returning to Jackson. “It’s the dungeons. Michael… he’s awake. But something’s wrong.”

Jackson and Selina exchanged a glance before hurrying toward the dungeon.

When they arrived, the sight that greeted them sent chills down Selina’s spine. Michael was standing, his back to them, his hands clutching the bars of his cell.

“Michael?” Kaia called softly from her cell across the hall.

He turned slowly, and Selina’s breath caught. His eyes weren’t the bloody red of possession, but they weren’t normal either. They glowed faintly, a sickly green that pulsed with an unnatural energy.

“Jackson,” Selina whispered, her voice trembling. “This isn’t over.”

Michael’s lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile. “No,” he said, his voice distorted, layered with something not his own. “It’s just beginning.”