Chapter 12
Bolton
Cassie’s challenge has the pack buzzing.
It’s Friday evening, and the council’s already met behind closed doors to approve the terms. They're calling it “a fair test of strength.”But everyone knows Cassie doesn’t care about fairness—only power.
And no one’s saying it out loud, but everyone’s watching me.
Because I’m the reason Maya’s name is on the slate.
I’m responsible.
Cassie knows I’ll never choose her as my Luna—but she’s still pushing. She's using tradition as a weapon because it's the only way left for her to win.
I pace across the edge of the clearing behind my house—the ancient ground where pack challenges have been held for generations. The ritual arena is simple: a wide ring of worn stone surrounded by trees and torches, and a low, crumbling wall etched with runes nearly faded by weather and time. The sky’s darkening fast, twilight pooling like ink through the trees. The moon won’t be full tonight, but it rides high enough to make my skin itch, my senses hyper-fine.
Maya’s supposed to meet me here. I told her I’d help prepare—train, teach, try to even the odds. But I’m not sure there’s a lesson that can get her ready for what she’s about to face.
Cassie’s been trained to fight since she could stand, like every pack member. For her, this isn’t just about dominance—it’s about claiming the Luna role she’s always thought belonged to her by birthright. She’ll use claws if she has to.
Maya hasn’t shifted. She’s never trained. She’s barely processing what she is.
But she said yes anyway.
And that’s what terrifies me most.
A rustle to my left snaps me from my spiraling thoughts. I turn, and there she is.
Maya steps out of the trees wearing a fitted black hoodie and grim determination. Her braid is pulled tighter tonight, her mouth lined with steel. She looks smaller than Cassie, out of place here. But she walks like she belongs.
“Hey,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be.
“Hey,” she echoes, lifting her gaze to meet mine.
I step toward her, then stop short. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Wrong,” she says, crossing her arms. “I do. I need to.”
“Maya, this isn’t some schoolyard fight. Cassie’s going to come at you with everything she has. She’ll try to humiliate you. To hurt you.”
“Let her try.”
Her voice is calm. Not cocky. Just... sure.
I exhale and rub a hand over my jaw. “You haven’t shifted yet. That makes you vulnerable.”
Maya tilts her head. “The thing is, Bolton? I’ve been vulnerable my whole life. I know how to fight from there.”
I study her—really study her—and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
She’s not bluffing.
There’s something simmering beneath her skin, coiled and ready. Something wild.
“The pack will be watching,” I say. “Some of them still want Cassie to win.”
She shrugs. “Let them watch.”
