Chapter 32 The Shadow of the Neutral Zone

Chapter 32 The Shadow of the Neutral Zone
Rafael’s POV

The moon was a sharp, silver sickle in the sky, and every time I looked at it, I wanted to howl in frustration. 

My brother Alessandro thinks he’s so wise just because he found his "happily ever after" with Aurora. 

He thinks because he survived the drama with Leonardo and finally claimed his Luna, that I’m bound to follow the same path.

But I’m not Alessandro. I don’t want to be "completed" by some soul-mate. I liked being a puzzle with missing pieces. It made life more interesting.

I stood on the balcony of my room, staring out toward the north. 

Far beyond the lush green forests of our pack territory lay the Neutral Zone a wasteland of grey rocks, dead trees, and the kind of people you don’t invite to dinner. 

That was where the Seeker lived. Not the pack seer who spoke in riddles and told me to "follow my heart," but a dark seer. 

Someone who dealt in the messy business of breaking what the gods had joined together.

Suddenly, a sharp, cold ache bloomed in my chest. It felt like I’d been dunked in an icy lake.

Zara.

She was cold. She must have been outside, probably doing some midnight chore that Beatrice had dumped on her.

The bond was a constant, annoying radio station playing the song of her life in the back of my head. 

I could feel her shivering, and my wolf instinctively wanted to go find her and wrap his fur around her.

"Shut up," I growled at the beast inside me. 

"She’s just a girl. She’ll live."

But the ache didn't go away. It stayed there, a dull, freezing throb beneath my ribs. It was a reminder that as long as she was tied to me, I wasn't really free. I couldn't even stand on my own balcony without feeling her goosebumps.

I needed to move. 

Now.



I didn't tell my brothers. Gabriel would have made a joke about it, and Alessandro would have given me a lecture on the dangers of dark magic. 

I shifted into my wolf form, my fur a dark, midnight black, and leaped from the balcony.

I ran. 

I ran until the scent of the pack pine, woodsmoke, and safety faded away. I pushed my body, enjoying the way my muscles burned. 

This was the only time I felt like myself, when I was moving so fast the bond couldn't keep up.

But as I reached the border, the pain in my chest intensified. It wasn't cold anymore; it was a sharp, stinging sensation on my legs.

I shifted back into my human form, naked and breathing hard at the edge of the Neutral Zone. 

I looked down at my shins. There were no scratches, no blood, but I could feel the sting of thorns as if I were walking through a briar patch.

She’s in the woods, I realized. Why is she in the woods at this hour?

Was she trying to run away? The thought made a weird, hot surge of anger flare up in my throat. She didn't get to leave. 

I was the one who was supposed to do the rejecting. If she left now, I’d be stuck with this phantom pain forever.

I shook my head, trying to clear the static. 

"Focus, Rafael. The Seeker. The cure."



The Neutral Zone felt dead. There were no birds singing here, no crickets chirping. The air tasted like ash and old copper. 

I walked for hours, guided only by the rumors I’d heard from rogue traders. Finally, I saw it, a hut made of mud and bones, tucked into the side of a jagged cliff.

I didn't knock. I pushed the door open, the smell of rotting herbs and stagnant water hitting me like a physical blow.

"I’m not looking for a fortune, Seeker," I barked into the darkness. 

"I’m looking for a knife. A spiritual one."

A low, wheezing cackle came from the corner. A figure shrouded in tattered grey robes sat behind a table covered in jars of things I didn't want to identify. 

The Seeker’s eyes were milky white, blind to the world but seeing everything else.

"The Alpha’s son," the Seeker hissed, her voice sounding like dry leaves skittering on a grave. 

"You have the smell of a fated bond on you. It’s thick. It’s strong. It’s... violet."

"I don't care what color it is," I snapped, sitting across from her. 

"I want it gone. My father, my brothers... they’ve all succumbed to this 'mate' nonsense. I want to stay the man I am. I want to feel my own skin, not hers."

The Seeker leaned forward, her blind eyes fixed on my face. 

"You wish to reject the gift of the Moon Goddess? To tear out the thread she wove into your soul?"

"I wish to live my life without feeling a maid stub her toe," I growled. 

"Can you do it or not?"

The old woman reached out a bony, claw-like hand and touched my chest, right over my heart. I flinched as a jolt of ice-cold energy shot through me.

"The bond is a lock," she whispered. "And you are the key. But the lock is not made of iron, Rafael Prickette. 

It is made of blood and choice. To break it, you must truly hate her. Not the 'hate' that hides a secret hunger. Not the 'hate' that watches her from the shadows. Total. Absolute. Indifference."

"I can do that," I said, though my heart gave a traitorous little twitch.

"No," she cackled. 

"You cannot. Not yet. Because your wolf knows what you refuse to see. 

He knows she is not just an Omega. He knows she is changing."

I froze. "What do you mean, changing?"

"She is waking up," the Seeker said, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. 

"The girl you call a nuisance is shedding her skin. And when the Goddess within her fully breathes, your bond will become a chain you cannot break with any blade of mine."

The Seeker pulled her hand away. "There is a way. A ritual of the Dark Moon. But it requires a sacrifice of the spirit. 

You must make her believe you love her, as your brother Gabriel suggested. But you must do it so perfectly that she gives you her heart completely. And then... at the moment of her greatest joy... you must hand that heart back to her and tell her she is nothing. 

If you can do that without feeling a single spark of regret, the bond will shatter."

"That’s the plan," I said, my voice sounding hollow in the small hut. "That’s exactly what I’m going to do."

"Is it?" the Seeker asked, a mocking smile on her thin lips. 

"Then why, Rafael, are you currently bleeding?"

I looked down at my hand. A thin line of red was blooming across my palm.

Zara. She must have cut herself on something sharp in the barn where she was hiding.

I stood up, my chair clattering to the floor. The pain was sharp, but the panic in my chest was sharper. 

My wolf was pacing, howling, demanding that I get back to the pack house.

"The ritual," I said, trying to regain my composure. "When can we start?"

"You’ve already started," the Seeker laughed. 

"Every time you look at her, the trap closes tighter. 

Go back, Alpha’s son. Go back to your 'curse.' 

We shall see if you have the stomach to break a goddess."



I ran back to the territory, the sting in my palm a constant reminder of her presence. 

By the time I reached the pack house, the sun was just beginning to peek over the trees.

I saw her. She was walking back from the storage barn, her hair messy and her clothes covered in dust. 

She looked exhausted, but she was carrying herself differently. Her shoulders were set, and she didn't look like a girl who was afraid of the dark anymore.

I watched her from the shadows of the porch. My hand throbbed in sync with hers.

I will do it, I promised myself, gripping the railing until the stone cracked. I will make her love me. 

I will make her worship the ground I walk on. And then, I will break her so completely that the Moon Goddess herself will cry.

But as Zara looked up and caught my eye, she didn't look away. She didn't blush or trip. 

She just gave me a small, knowing smile, a smile that looked far too much like a challenge.