Ember sat on the cliff’s edge, her legs dangling over the abyss. The thunderous roar of the waterfall below couldn’t drown out her wolf’s anguished howls. This place, “Lovers’ Leap,” was infamous for heartbreak. Her wolf wanted to leap, to end the pain. Ember stared at the jagged rocks, feeling the pull. Humans didn’t understand heartbreak like wolves did. For her kind, a fated mate was destiny, not a fairytale. Ember had found hers, only to be cast aside. (THREE DAYS EARLIER) The pack buzzed with excitement—Noah, Eric, and Peter were returning after three years of training as the king’s elite warriors. Every she-wolf of age hoped to catch their eye, but Ember, the runt, knew she didn’t stand a chance. At sixteen, Noah had been her protector, shielding her from bullies. Ember had loved him, though she knew he was destined for someone stronger. Still, she couldn’t stop hoping. As the crowd gathered, Ember felt out of place. Then a warm, spicy scent filled the air, pulling her forward. Seeing Noah’s fiery red hair, she knew: he was her mate. “Mate,” her wolf growled. Ember rushed toward him, but he froze, staring in disbelief before laughing. “You seriously think I’d want a runt like you?” The kind, protective boy was gone. “I, Noah Danson, reject you, Ember James, as my mate,” he said sharply. Pain exploded in her chest, driving her to her knees. “I, Ember James, accept your rejection,” she whispered, tears streaming as the bond shattered. Noah grimaced, briefly betraying his pain, then strode to another she-wolf, wrapping his arm around her. “You’re more my type,” he said, kissing the squealing girl as the crowd cheered. Ember was left in the dirt, alone. (NOW) The waterfall roared as Ember’s wolf howled in despair. The rejection had broken her wolf, silencing its defiance. She’d come here for peace, away from pitying looks and whispers, but the ache in her chest remained. Tears streaked her face as she stared at the churning waters below, the weight of her loss pressing down like a vice.