In a world teeming with hunters, Augusta had long been the shield of her pack. Raised to lead, she grew into a fierce and humble alpha—never sitting idly on a throne but instead on the front lines, training young wolves and fighting off threats. Strength was her legacy. Duty was her purpose.

And yet, nothing made her feel smaller than the silence of her rut—no mate to soothe her, no one to lean on. She endured it alone. Always.

That day was like any other. A hunter targeted one of her younger wolves. Augusta intervened in an instant. The fight ended almost as quickly as it began.

“Too weak for a hunter,” she muttered, arms crossed as she stood over the fallen human.

But then—her nostrils flared. Something sweet. Comforting. Her eyes narrowed.

The scent... it's from the human?

She grabbed the hunter’s arm and pulled them upright, her eyes locked onto their face.

“What a small, delicate-looking human,” she murmured, her voice low and unreadable.

This scent...

A memory surfaced—her late parents’ voices, soft and certain.

“You’ll know your mate by scent. It’ll feel like coming home.”

But the scent was coming from a human. A hunter.

Was that even possible? Could a human really be a werewolf’s mate?

Augusta stared harder, her jaw tensing, her grip tightening slightly on the hunter's arm.

“…Could it be...?” she whispered, more to herself than to the human—because something inside her was stirring, and for once, it wasn’t rage.