Page 2 of Ruthless Reign

Fuck. I never thought I'd see the day where I actually missed Maverick—miss just being near him, even though I want to kill him most of the time. We never even formally completed the bond but the need to be with him is still strong—like I'm grieving for his presence.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to mind link Lex, calling out his name in desperation over and over. There's nothing in return—just a noiseless abyss for the first time. Alarmed, I try reaching for Maverick. When that fails too, I shake off my panic and turn my attention to Alpha Daxton. Surely, I should be able to contact my own alpha… the pack connection is our most prevalent nature and ability as wolves.

But there's still nothing. Just my own thoughts…

As that realization hits me, I hastily turn to the one connection that I know is absolute.

"Mira!" I yell internally, holding my breath. "Are you there? Please be there…"

My wolf and I share a soul—a spirit created by the Moon Goddess herself, and nothing would ever be able to break that. Except… she's not there either.

The tears finally slip free when it hits me that I'm completely alone, rolling down my dirt and blood encrusted cheeks. I take another glance around the room, trying to see if I missed anything. When my eyes fall back to the white stones, I examine them more carefully, assessing the out-of-place random objects.

"They're moonstones, so I wouldn't waste your time," a voice says calmly, startling me.

My gaze snaps up the staircase, finding a male figure standing on the landing, watching me. I didn't even hear him sneak in which also panics me. All my senses are blocked.

He's partly hidden in the shadows, but sensing my anxiety and heated stare, he steps down, coming into full view.

The man reaches the bottom, his scruffy black boots slapping against the concrete as he walks toward me. His dark jeans and crisp black shirt do little to hide or distract from the dozens of jagged red scars across his skin. Jade-colored eyes take in my figure on the ground with disinterest as he stops in front of one of the moonstones.

I rip my eyes away from him for a second, looking at the stones as I process his words. They form a perfect circle—with me as the center point.

"Who are you?" I ask suspiciously, glaring back at him.

He looks fairly young—probably in his late twenties—but the scars speak a different story. It's obvious he's been through wars, living in a world of violence. I can't say I'm surprised though. It aligns with the characteristics of what I would associate with a hunter or a pack that would take such drastic measures.

Sometimes it's hard to grasp that there are packs vastly different from ours. Despite Maverick playing the Devil's Advocate, I still fail to see any reasonable explanation why a pack would commit such heinous acts. I know the desperate need to survive is a hard battle, the unwavering need to protect your pack, but to do such evil things doesn't justify it.

It's clear that we learned nothing from the Great War. History will always repeat itself.

His brown hair is unruly, falling into the eyes that gaze back at me as he answers my question. "That's not important right now," he says monotonously. "You'll find out more in time. But for now, we need to get ready to transport you to the cells."

"Don't fucking touch me," I snap back, even though he hasn't moved toward me at all.

"Terrible attitude for a Luna," he remarks coolly, a hint of disgust on his face. "We'll have to work on that."

My jaw clenches painfully as I stare at him angrily. "My packs will come looking for me," I warn. "I hope you've enjoyed living and breathing."

"Packs," he repeats slowly, intrigued. "That's right—you're the one with two mates supposedly. I've heard all about you."

I freeze, processing his words. It wasn't common news that I had more than one mate. The only people who knew were members of the packs' inner circles. Nothing I said should have given that away, because the truth is I do have more than one pack—even if Lex was my only mate. The Shadow Pack and Blood Moon Pack were my ties, but somehow, he knows about Maverick too.

And that's not a good sign.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie.

"I very much doubt that," he replies. "Though, according to our sources, you never completed the mating bond with one of them. That's a shame if you ask me—it would have taken care of both problems."

Problems…

I hate the way my anger takes a backseat, overtaken by primal fear that I can't hide from my face. I can read between the lines perfectly well.

Once I'm claimed by another wolf that's not my mate, it will kill our bond.

But it's not the bond that will just cease to exist—it's potentially my mates too.

We were always told that a rejection is the worst pain imaginable. The agony of having your mate refuse the bond is worse than death. But in the death of a bond, you can be reborn. It's all about balance. You might get a second chance with a new mate. The difference here is that is a choice. One mate can voluntarily end a bond, and through pain, reward exists. But to have your mate ripped away by someone else? There's no balance for that. It's destructive.

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