The Price Of Fate

Nyra Moonchild is wolfless, outcast, and treated like the pack’s mistake in Vandwood. She’s learnt to survive bruises, whispers, and hunger, because mercy is for the strong, and Nyra has never been allowed to be strong.

Then fate binds her to Kieran Whitewolf, the future Alpha.

For four years, he’s loved her in secret, stolen moments, whispered promises, “Soon.” Soon he’ll claim her. Soon he’ll protect her. But in daylight, Kieran becomes what the pack demands: cold, controlled, untouchable… and Nyra becomes the shame he refuses to stand beside.

When the pack pushes another woman toward his side, Nyra finally understands the truth: power won’t make him brave.

So she walks away.

And one broken night, she strays deep into the woods, rogue territory where pack law doesn’t matter and predators don’t ask permission.

That’s where Ronan finds her.

A dangerous Alpha with storm in his eyes and a claim he isn’t afraid to make.

Now Nyra is caught between the Alpha who won’t choose her publicly… and the Alpha who might burn everything to keep her.

01 The Pack’s Dirty Secret

Nyra’s POV

“Watch where you’re going, freak!”

The word hit before his shoulder did.

My books jolted. My yearbook slipped from my grip and slapped the floor, pages flaring open like it was trying to escape me. The hallway swam with noise, laughter, footsteps, the shriek of a locker door, yet somehow that one word still found the centre of me, like it had a map to every bruise I’d ever swallowed.

Freak.

That was me. The pack’s wolfless unknown-origin mistake.

Robert Wilson brushed past as if I’d deliberately thrown myself in his path. He didn’t even pause. He didn’t have to. Wolves like him, clean-blooded, wolf-strong, certain of their place, never had to stop for girls like me.

I bent down slowly, swallowing the sting in my throat, and gathered my things with careful hands. The floor felt colder than it should have. So did the air. This was the usual treatment. I’d learned the hard way not to hope for anything better from the pack.

“Can’t you smell where you’re going?” someone muttered nearby, and a few voices chuckled like my humiliation was a snack they could share.

I kept my head down.

There was no point arguing. I’d learnt that the hard way.

Arguing got you shoved. Shoving got you hit. And getting beaten up when you were wolfless wasn’t like getting beaten up for everyone else. Wolves healed fast, bones knitting, bruises fading, pain turning into a memory in hours, not days. Me? Sometimes it took weeks. Sometimes it took longer. I carried old bruises like other girls carried jewellery.

At twenty, I still hadn’t shifted.

No wolf. No heightened reflexes. No healing. No strength.

Just a body that broke the way humans did.

Some people said my father had been a cursed rogue. Others liked the witch story better, said he must have been something disgraceful from the Outlands, something unnatural that explained