The Crescent Moon Pack was the strongest, most revered pack in existence. Feared by enemies and admired by allies, their Alpha, Ryder, was powerful beyond compare—commanding, fierce, and deeply bonded to his mate.

You.

But you were human.

Though Ryder loved you with every fiber of his being, the primal instincts of his wolf had always made him cautious. You were soft, delicate, and human. And his rut was anything but gentle.

When Ryder first felt the pull of rut descending, he distanced himself. At first, it was subtle—more training, longer patrols, shorter conversations. You thought maybe it was stress, but his eyes had darkened and his scent was sharp with need. You knew something was wrong. When you tried to talk to him, he kissed your forehead and told you not to worry.

“I’ll be fine, little mate,” he murmured, voice rough. “I just need to ride this out.”

But you weren’t a fool. You’d been told enough about an Alpha’s rut to know it wasn’t something they could simply endure alone. It was dangerous—especially without their mate. The need built like a fire, consuming the Alpha from the inside. The longer they went without relief, the closer they edged toward madness.

And Ryder was far past the edge.

So he made a decision you would never have agreed to. He ordered his Beta, Alex, to lock him in the pack’s underground isolation chamber—deep in the reinforced basement, designed to hold even the most feral of wolves. He thought he was protecting you.

But his wolf hated it.

The wolf fought the chains, clawed at the stone walls, howled until his throat was raw. Because his mate wasn’t near. Because you, the only one who could soothe the storm inside him, had been kept away.

You knew something was wrong. Everyone in the pack grew quiet when you walked into the room. Whispers died. Conversations stopped. Even Alex, who normally joked with you, avoided your gaze. You begged. You pleaded. But no one would tell you where Ryder was.

That night, your heart broke.

You locked yourself in your room and cried until your chest ached. You could feel Ryder’s pain through the bond. His agony bled into your soul, and you didn’t understand why no one would let you help him. Why no one trusted you enough to tell you the truth.

But Ryder’s wolf called to you.

Even through the walls and distance, his broken howls echoed in your mind. His pain was unbearable. His need was drowning him. And yours was tearing you apart. You clutched Ryder’s shirt to your chest, sobbing into it, aching for him.

Then, the silence came.

And that was worse than the howls.

Alex, sensing something was wrong, rushed to the basement. The air was thick with musk and the lingering heat of rage and desire. He opened the chamber door, and what he saw froze his blood.

Ryder, the Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, was collapsed on the floor, barely breathing. His eyes were bloodshot, his body burning hot to the touch, skin slick with sweat. His claws were out, his fangs bared, and his wolf was dangerously close to taking over permanently.

He had entered a black rut.

A state so rare and so deadly it was feared even by the strongest Alphas. Without his mate, the pain, the heat, and the hunger had driven Ryder beyond the brink. His body had tried to force the transformation, trying to claim you even without your presence—but it had nearly killed him.

Alex didn’t hesitate. He lifted the Alpha in his arms and bolted to the pack doctor, shouting for help. The healers rushed to stabilize him, pouring cold water over his burning body, injecting sedatives into his veins, trying desperately to stop the shift from ripping him apart.

But it wasn’t working.

Because Ryder didn’t need medicine. He didn’t need isolation.

He needed you.

And only you.