Have you ever felt pressure?

  Not the everyday kind, but the real kind. The heavy, looming, life-altering kind that settles on your chest and refuses to move. The kind that feels like a countdown, silent and unstoppable.

  That is exactly where I am standing.

  For weeks now, strange sensations have rippled beneath my skin. A ringing in my ears. A tingling in my fingertips, as if static dances along my nerves. My dreams have become vivid and relentless, filled with moonlit forests, howling winds, and shadows that feel far too real. My mother insists it can be normal, but the look she gave me when I described the dreams said something else entirely.

  “Lirian?”

  My mother’s gentle voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. Charlise Ellas stands beside me, evergreen eyes warm with concern.

  “I have been calling you for five minutes. Didn’t you hear me?”

  I open my mouth to answer when something glints in the treeline behind her.

  A flicker of light, sharp and reflective, like metal.

  Or eyes.

  Eyes staring back at me.

  “Do you see that?” I whisper.

  My mother turns, her gaze steady as she studies the woods. After a moment, she shakes her head. “See what, sweetheart? I don’t see anything.”

  When I blink, the glint is gone.

  “I’m worried about you,” she says softly. “Have your symptoms changed?”

  Before I can answer, my father approaches.

  “Charlise, finally,” Elijah Ellas says. “Alpha Kennan says the patrol spotted a rogue near the border last night. He thinks it might be Azrael Black, though nothing is confirmed.”

  My mother cuts him off sharply.

  “Elijah, we don’t need to worry Lirian with rumors. She is safe within our territory.”

  Safe.

  I glance toward the treeline again.

  Nothing moves.

  Yet the feeling remains.

  That creeping, undeniable sense that someone is watching me.

  It should frighten me, and it does.

  But beneath the fear is something else.

  Recognition.

  My name is Lirian Ellas. I am twenty-five years old, a late shifter, and tomorrow night I am supposed to become Luna to Kellan Vale, the golden heir of Pack Vale.

  Yes, that Kellan. The man half the unmated she-wolves sigh over as if he is the Moon’s personal blessing.

  He is handsome, charming, warm, endlessly patient. We have been best friends since childhood. Our betrothal feels almost fated.

  Everyone insists our future is perfect.

  Almost too perfect.

  My parents serve as advisers to Alpha Kennan Vale and Luna Marienne Vale. I grew up beneath their roof nearly as often as my own. Kellan and I shared training drills, communal meals, and constant lessons about the responsibilities we were meant to inherit.

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  Female wolves can shift anywhere between eighteen and thirty. The Moon chooses when we are ready.

  I am only twenty-five.

  So no, I am not afraid of marrying the most desirable alpha our pack has seen in nearly a century.

  And I am not nervous about stepping into the role of Luna.

  What terrifies me is what happens after the shift.

  Because something feels wrong.

  Not wrong exactly.

  But not normal.

  What if my wolf is tiny?

  What if she is malformed?

  What if she is nothing like what a future Luna should be?

  No Kellan.

  No Luna title.

  No place in the pack.

  Or worse.

  A rogue.

  Azrael Black.

  The name drifts back into my mind uninvited.

  I return to the ribbons I have been tasked with tying. In the hour I have been standing here, I have managed exactly three.

  Wonderful.

  A cold shiver slides up my spine again.

  I lift my gaze toward the treeline.

  Nothing.

  No glint.

  No shadow.

  Yet the awareness lingers.

  With all the pressure crushing down on me, slipping into the woods for a moment of quiet would be nearly irresistible.

  Nearly.

  Because if the patrols are right, and Azrael Black truly crossed into our territory, he is not the kind of rogue anyone should cross paths with.

  Not with his reputable rages.

  Not with the blood on his hands.

  Not with the stories whispered about him by every pack for miles.

  Even if the woods usually soothe me, tonight the risk feels far too great.

  Strong, familiar hands slide around my waist.

  Soft lips brush the nape of my neck.

  The scent of pine and sunlight fills my senses.

  “Not much longer until you’re mine forever,” Kellan murmurs.

  I turn in his arms, golden eyes catching mine.

  For a moment, fear pierces me again.

  What if he rejects me after I shift?

  “What’s rolling around in that pretty little head of yours?” he asks softly. “There is nothing to fear. Your first shift will be incredible.”

  “I just want everything to be perfect,” I whisper. “I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially you.”

  He tilts my chin.

  “There is nothing you could do that would ever change the way I feel about you.”

  His words soothe me.

  Almost.

  As he leans in to kiss me, something cold lashes down my spine.

  A presence.

  Heavy.

  Ancient.

  Watching.

  It presses at the edge of my senses, far stronger than before.

  I jerk my head toward the treeline.

  Nothing.

  But my heart is pounding.

  Not with fear.

  With intrigue.

  As if something inside me knows that whatever is out there is not a stranger.

  My breath catches.

  A tug deep in my chest.

  Something older.

  Something powerful.

  Something calling my name.

  And then, from the depths of the forest, a voice I cannot hear but somehow feel brushes across my mind.

  Soon.

  A chill floods through me.

  Kellan does not notice.

  But I know one thing with absolute certainty.

  Someone, or something, is waiting for me in those woods.

  And tomorrow night, after my first shift, nothing in my life will ever be the same.