Page 159 of The Moonborn's Curse

"You have been expecting this." Said Draken as he rose slowly, "You've seen what's happening to the land. To our people. We're coming apart. We can't hold this together—"

"And if I had listened to you, to Mom, to Seren, I wouldn't be in this position now.," Hagan cut in. "But I forgot something vital." His voice thickened, almost broke. "My bonded is my tribe first. She should've been my priority."

He let that truth settle, heavy and painful.

A chair scraped. Jorik—broad-shouldered and good-natured even under pressure—stood, crossing his arms. "I'll govern. Keep the peace. But I won't wear the mantle, brother. You're the rightful Highclaw,"

"Not yet," Hagan said, shaking his head. "Not while she's gone. That crown belongs to the man who can stand beside her."

Astrid, silent until now, tilted her head slightly. A small, secretive smile danced at the corners of her mouth.

"We shall see," she murmured.

Hagan's eyes narrowed. "You've seen something."

Astrid only gave the softest shake of her head, a noncommittal gesture. But her eyes—moonlit and knowing—spoke volumes.

Draken stepped forward, hands briefly gripping his son's shoulders.

"I should've stopped you. So many times," the older wolf said. "But I kept thinking... you'd find your way back to her. To yourself."

"I intend to," Hagan said. "But I won't return unless she's with me."

And no one stopped him.

When he left, his pack slung over his shoulder and a storm curled tight in his chest, the sky was bruising with dusk. The outer gates loomed ahead, tall and grim.

But in the shadow of the tree line, Veyr waited—silent, watchful, already moving.

No words passed between them. Veyr fell in step with him. Together, they got into the Jeep parked outside the tribe gates.

This was the beginning of a hunt.

And this time, Hagan would not fail.

Chapter 58

The air smelled like baked stone and steel. The city buzzed around him-impatient, fast, indifferent. But Hagan crouched in the shadows of the brick-faced apartment building, tracking one thing and one thing only: her.

Two years, four months, and two days.

That's how long it had been since she walked away from him. That's how long he'd been measuring time.

And now she was just twenty feet away, making her way towards her apartment. A blur of motion through frosted glass, and his whole body was on fire.

He'd followed her from The Hollow Moon, her pace brisk, steps certain. She hadn't spotted him-he was a forest-born predator after all-but she'd felt him. The slight tightening of her shoulders, the way she glanced over her shoulder more than once.

He'd seen it all.

The other man.

His hand on her waist. The kiss. It felt like someone reached into his chest and squeezed. Hard.

Nausea crawled up his gut, thick and slow, as the bond twisted violently inside him-reacting to the unwanted intrusion like a living thing in pain. Acid pooled behind his ribs, bile rising in his throat.

So this was it, then. This was what she must've felt every time Lia had touched him. Every time he'd let it happen. Brushed it off as nothing.

He didn't move when they kissed. Didn't look away.

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