[POV: Draven]
For days, the Rebirth Feast had loomed in my thoughts like a storm cloud—full of energy, anticipation, and one very specific, gnawing uncertainty.
I'd planned every detail. The music, the moonlit garden setting, the ceremonial toast.
But the moment that mattered most—the announcement of my chosen mate—was the one I couldn't stop obsessing over.
Would he be there? Would he understand? Would he look at me with those pale eyes of his—the ones that made my chest ache and Sirius howl with recognition every time they met mine?
I'd spent the last three nights tossing and turning in bed, tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of pine because he'd fallen asleep beside me two nights ago and the scent had soaked into the fabric like a stain I never wanted to wash out.
I kept remembering his face during the last celebration.
The sharp line of his jaw catching the firelight. The way his shirt had pulled across his shoulders when he'd leaned against the railing, and how the sight of it had nearly had me crossing the room to drag him somewhere private just to breathe again.
Hopefully, he wouldn't look quite as devastating this time. I needed my head clear. And I was already more nervous than I wanted to admit.
Which was stupid. I was the Alpha of Crimson Fang. I'd faced down enemy packs, rogue invasions, and traitors in my own ranks without flinching.
I'd buried my grief for Annabeth so deep it had calcified into something that functioned like strength even when it wasn't. I'd held this pack together through winters that should have broken us.
But this? This made my palms sweat.
As the sun dipped below the treetops and the lanterns lit the garden in flickering golden halos, I stood with my Beta Aaron at the edge of the gathering, scanning the sea of faces.
My heart hammered against the inside of my ribcage with a steady, insistent rhythm that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with the fact that Atlas was nowhere in sight.
Aaron noticed my restlessness.
"He's not here yet?" he asked casually, sipping from his silver flask.
I didn't answer, just kept my gaze moving through the crowd.
"Maybe he's late," he added. "Or maybe he's avoiding you."
I shot him a warning look.
He raised a brow. "Should I start preparing for your emotional collapse now or after you make the announcement?"
I exhaled slowly through my nose. "Don't push me, Aaron."
He grinned. "Look, I'm just saying, you look like you're about to go into battle, not name your mate."
I didn't respond, because he was right. It felt exactly like battle—the same tight coil of adrenaline in my gut, the same hyperawareness of every sound and movement around me, the same bone-deep certainty that everything was about to change and there was no controlling the outcome.
And I hadn't even spotted him yet.
Aaron sobered slightly and lowered his voice. "You're really scared, aren't you?"
I turned to him. "I'm scared shitless."
If he had been anyone else, I wouldn't have said it. But Aaron had earned that truth.
He was the one who'd dragged me out of my grief after Annabeth. The one who'd pulled me back when I stopped believing in bonds, in futures, in anything beyond the next patrol and the next threat.
He'd sat with me through the worst nights without once telling me to get over it, and he'd never asked for anything in return except that I keep standing.
He just gave me a half-smile. "He's not going to hate you for that, Draven."
"I'm not worried about hate," I said, jaw tight. "I'm worried he'll walk away."
Aaron clapped me on the back, his grip firm and grounding. "Even if he does, you're still the Alpha. Your decision is final and even he couldn't doubt it."
I didn't reply, because that wasn't the point. I didn't want Atlas to accept this because I was his Alpha.
I wanted him to accept it because he wanted me the same way I wanted him—with that terrifying, all-consuming certainty that made the rest of the world feel like background noise.
When the time came, I stepped forward to address the pack.
The music faded and the lanterns flickered. Every eye turned toward me. The garden was full—wolves in their finest, gathered beneath strings of light that swayed in the evening breeze—and the silence that fell was the heavy, expectant kind that pressed against the skin.
Still no sign of him.
I cleared my throat, lifted my glass, and let my voice carry through the moonlit garden.
"Tonight," I began, "we celebrate the Rebirth. A tradition to mark survival, strength, and the forging of a future from the scars of the past."
The crowd murmured in agreement.
I scanned them one more time—and then, finally, there.
Atlas.
Standing with Ava, Levi, and Kobe near the edge of the garden. His arms were crossed, his glass half-full, and his brows drawn slightly, as if he was either deep in thought or trying not to throw the drink at someone.
His silver-white hair was pushed back from his face, a few loose strands falling across his forehead. He wore a dark shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, the fabric pulling across his chest and shoulders in a way that made the breath stall in my throat.
And at the base of his throat—the wolf-fang pendant. My mother's pendant. The one I'd given him.
He wasn't smiling. But Goddess, he was beautiful in the way that made something feral and possessive twist beneath my sternum. And I realized at that moment—he had no idea what was coming.
I took a breath. Sirius surged forward in my mind, fierce and certain, his presence a wall of heat at my back.
"This year, the pack has not only survived—we've grown," I continued. "We've welcomed new warriors, strengthened our alliances, and proven that Crimson Fang does not bow, bend, or break."
A few wolves let out proud howls. I looked straight at Atlas.
"And now, it's time to give this pack what it needs most. A mate to stand beside the Alpha."
He blinked. His brows rose slightly.
I lifted my glass higher, my voice steady but strong.
"I name Atlas of Crimson Fang—my chosen mate. The one who has earned his place not just beside me, but above every shadow cast against him."
A beat of silence fell—one heartbeat, two—and then the garden erupted.
Cheers, applause, howls of approval broke around me like a wave, the sound crashing through the night air until the trees themselves seemed to vibrate with it. But all I saw was him.
Atlas's head snapped up, eyes wide, frozen in place like the world had tilted beneath his feet.
He looked at me—not with pride, or joy, or even anger. He looked shocked. Like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
Like no one had ever chosen him before.