Chapter 1Weston Kingsley picked the worst possible moment to make a public Luna confess - right to my denmate.
It failed spectacularly. She rejected him.
Then the Kingsley Pack's Alpha-to-be spun around and pressed the rejected moonflower bouquet into my arms.
My denmate - Celia Ellery, Ellery Pack heir, old-blood privilege practically leaking from her pores - curled her lip.
"Weston belongs with a she-wolf from a proper bloodline."
"He'll be back at my den before the next moon, whining."
"And you? Snatching another she-wolf's rejected bouquet? That reeks of desperation, not charm."
So Weston Kingsley made me his rebound stunt.
And he made sure every wolf on the grounds got an eyeful.
That was when the silver script appeared.
Translucent letters drifted across my vision, like the Moon Goddess had gotten bored and started posting spoilers.
[Do NOT melt for him, she-wolf. That Alpha wagered a pile of silver with his packmates that you'd cave faster than the Ellery heir.]
[Say yes, and he'll parade you around, then drop you the second he's bored.]
[He still ends up mated to the Ellery heir - grand Luna ceremony, merged packs - and every pack forum calls YOU the other she-wolf.]
Then a message from Weston would eventually light up my screen.
[Dress incoming. You'd wreck every wolf in the room.]
[Not your vibe? Toss it to your denmate.]
And that same night, I'd send him a list.
One hundred dating rules.
[Fine. I'll bite. Cross one line and we're finished.]
[Rule One: No other she-wolf in your mouth, your memories, or your messages. That includes your mother.]
My bloodline had no silver, no territory worth naming, no useful alliances.
My face? Cute enough on a slow moon.
My wolf? Small and unremarkable.
The one thing I had was brains. I ranked first in my cohort every term.
But Moonveil Academy was crawling with sharp minds and scandalous good looks - half the student body looked like they'd been sculpted for a Luna portrait.
So I learned to keep my head down, my wolf on a short leash, and the real me behind my teeth.
Then Weston happened.
For three moons, he'd courted Celia Ellery with the subtlety of a wolf in heat - gifts, grand gestures, public howls outside her den.
Nothing. Not a flick of her ear.
She rejected his Luna bid in front of everyone.
He spun around and pressed the bouquet into my arms.
Everyone on the grounds knew the Kingsley name.
If Moonveil hadn't thrown us into the same halls - if he hadn't chosen my denmate as his obsession - our paths would never have crossed.
Someone posted a blurry side profile of him on the academy's anonymous howl-board at term start.
It blew up overnight.
Wolves zoomed in on the silver moon-watch on his wrist - six figures, easy.
His HowlTok got dragged up too. Someone matched the territory tags to the watch.
I overheard him one day, irritated.
"Who the hell posted that? My howlbox is a disaster."
By sunrise, every post about him had vanished.
I buried my face in the moonflowers.
Nobody had ever bothered to give me any.
Celia watched me from her den-bed, her expression flat as stone.
"Weston asked me for your howl-code. Don't get attached. I mean it - he's too much wolf for you."
She searched my face.
When I said nothing, her tone went soft in that way that stings worse than a bite.
"He's only adding you to get under my fur. That trick was old before we hit our first moon shift."
She drowned herself in something floral and swapped den slides for heels.
On her way past, she squeezed my shoulder.
"He's strong. I'll give him that. If you want to play with fire, go ahead. I'm not worried. I have options."
My phone vibrated.
A pack-chat request from Weston, then a message:
[Hey. Thanks for catching the bouquet.]
Celia glanced at my screen and scoffed.
"He never used that tone with me."
She grabbed her phone and fired off a voice howl to Weston, mimicking him.
[Oh wow, thank you for catching the flowers.]
The door banged shut hard enough to rattle my wolf.
So much for her not caring.
The silver script swarmed back.
[Moon above, that Alpha has a temper like a wounded bear and an ego to match. No wonder he'll be begging later.]
[The side character looks harmless. Easy prey. Of course he wagered three moons on catching her.]
[The Ellery heir got jealous and dared him to chase the denmate. She didn't think he'd actually do it.]
[If the side character doesn't fall for him and takes the rejection payout later, she walks away with silver. But if she gets clingy? Every pack forum will tear her apart as the other she-wolf.]
[The Alpha and the Ellery heir are an enemies-to-lovers disaster. They'll fight even after the mate bond locks. Brynn's just collateral damage in their war.]
My thumb hovered over ACCEPT.
He'd wagered with his packmates that he could catch me?
And I'd walk away with three hundred thousand in silver just for agreeing to end it?
Was any of that real?
Only one way to find out.
Either I'd pocket the silver, or I'd end up with an Alpha heir who followed my rules.
Either way, I won.
I hit REFUSE and shot back a quick line.
The silver script flickered with glee.
[Well. That's one way to tell an Alpha heir to go chase his own tail.]
[She turned him down? Because he's sniffing after her denmate? I need to sit down.]
[Somewhere in the Alpha wing, a very expensive ego just hit the floor.]
Chapter 2
After I refused his pack-chat request, Weston Kingsley suddenly developed a talent for materializing wherever I breathed.
Some of it was blatant. Some of it was dressed up as coincidence.
The second he learned I claimed the east corner of the Moonvault Study Den at dawn, he started parking his Alpha-sized ego in the seat beside mine.
If someone else was already there, he bought them off.
Then he bought off the entire row - just to be thorough.
Word traveled through the academy faster than a howl at moonrise: sit next to Brynn, walk away with a fistful of silver.
By the next morning, the study den was packed shoulder to shoulder.
Not a single empty seat.
For me, anyway.
I stood in the doorway, books hugged to my chest, staring at Weston planted dead center of the chaos he'd paid for.
He opened his mouth.
I turned around and left.
He caught up in three strides. I'm fairly sure no wolf had ever walked away from him before.
His fingers closed around my wrist.
The silver script immediately flooded my vision.
[He only grabbed her because he spotted the Ellery heir coming. Every. Single. Time.]
[This Alpha would rather get his tail kicked than have an honest conversation. He deserves everything that's about to happen to him.]
I stopped cold.
Weston raised his voice, loud enough for the whole corridor to hear.
"Celia means NOTHING to me. You're the one I want. You're... Br..."
He didn't even know my name.
Celia didn't even break stride.
"Pathetic."
She hooked her arm through some senior wolf she'd been sniffing around and strolled off without a backward glance.
Weston stared after them, jaw locked so tight I could hear his teeth grind.
His grip on my wrist tightened until it actually hurt.
I leaned in close, voice flat as stone.
"It's Brynn."
He blinked. The performance drained right out of his face.
"Sorry, I - "
I pulled my hand free and adjusted my glasses.
"Say it again."
He was still off-balance - his wolf probably clawing at the inside of his skin - but he did what I told him.
"Brynn."
It sounded good in his mouth.
This could work.
Whether I actually liked him was irrelevant.
I nodded. "Okay."
Two weeks of "accidental" run-ins later, I finally accepted his pack-chat request.
The silver script had already told me the timeline: he was supposed to win me over in the first moon.
After that, he'd get bored.
Decide I was too plain. Too predictable. Too easy to leave behind.
What he didn't know was the truth about me.
I was demanding, petty, and impossible to satisfy.
I was just really, REALLY good at hiding it.
If he was only chasing me for a wager, why bother playing nice?
The Silver Fang. A private pack lounge off the main hall - dim lights, expensive leather, the kind of place where wolves came to bare their teeth without actually shifting.
Weston sat in the corner booth, glaring at his phone.
Celia had at least texted him back.
Brynn Frost? Sometimes she replied in seconds. Sometimes she vanished for days.
He couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong.
Three days. Nothing.
She'd accepted his previous gifts, though. Taken them without a single word.
One of his pack brothers leaned over, grinning.
"Still can't close the deal with Little Miss Perfect?"
Across the room, Celia was singing with her new boyfriend - some wolf from the coastal pack - shooting Weston a look designed to draw blood.
Weston didn't miss a beat.
"She's not like some she-wolves. She actually has standards."
Celia just smiled, slow and sweet, and kissed her boyfriend right in front of him.
Weston stormed out. The whole room turned to Celia, and nobody had to say a word.
The silver script gave me the full replay.
The next day, a necklace appeared at my den door.
Thin gold chain. Real diamonds. Probably cost more than my family's entire territory.
A message from Weston:
[Saw something like this on your Story. Thought of you. It's yours.]
I was starting to see the pattern.
Every time Celia got under his fur, a gift landed in my lap.
It was painfully obvious who he actually wanted.
That's why Celia never looked worried.
But it PISSED ME OFF.
And the way Celia looked at me - like I should be grateful for the scraps from her table.
Did they really think I was just a pawn?
I opened Weston's message and typed one character.
[1.]
I wasn't here to make him feel better.
He had three moons.
And if anyone should be worried, it wasn't me.
Chapter 3
Just like I predicted.
That wager was a collar around his neck. At first he'd been sloppy about the whole thing. Now he was precise. Almost tender.
He'd picked up on something weird, too. Whenever Celia crossed his path, my replies turned to ice. Like I had a spy hiding in his shadow.
So he backed Celia into a corner.
"Have you been poisoning Brynn against me? Is that what's happening?"
Celia's smile vanished. She scanned his face and noticed something absent - the jealous spark she'd come to expect.
Her wolf flashed behind her eyes.
"You're a real piece of work, Weston. What's wrong? Afraid someone finally told her the truth?"
They fought. It ended ugly.
The silver script rolled in.
[Two moons in and the Alpha heir still can't land one courting date. I'm HOWLING.]
I scrolled through Weston's posts.
His pride was the size of a full territory.
If I kept rejecting him into the third moon, his ego would crack. And so would my plan.
What I actually wanted was simple. A mate who could weather my worst moods without baring his teeth - and had enough silver to spoil me while I made him work for it.
The catch was my reputation. No wolf could know I was like this. So I wore the quiet, easygoing she-wolf mask.
And Weston? He was built for the role.
He'd never spill his own shame. He'd lie through his fangs before letting anyone see a crack in his image.
Case in point: right now, he was telling his pack brothers:
"Brynn's obsessed with me. She's just shy. That's the ONLY reason you haven't met her."
One of them ate it up. "Man, you didn't even break a sweat. She just tripped into your den?"
"So you're actually over Celia?"
Weston answered fast. Too fast. "What does Celia have to do with us? I've kept my distance. Brynn's got a jealous streak."
Another wolf jumped in. "Oh, so you really don't care? That's why you didn't ask about Celia's breakup."
Weston froze.
"She dumped him?"
The silver script tore into him.
[The Alpha heir is GARBAGE. Still mooning over the Ellery heir while leading the side character on.]
[He chose a RED dress. She never wears red!]
[Wrong size too. This she-wolf is suffering.]
A moment later, the notification came through.
[Dress incoming. You'd look dangerous in it.]
[Not your style? Toss it to your denmate.]
I stared at the screen. Zero warmth.
Celia had one thing right. Males needed obedience training.
That night, I typed up a hundred rules for courting me and hit SEND.
[Fine. I'll bite. Cross one line and we're finished.]
[Rule One: No other she-wolf in my presence. Not even your mother.]
[Rule 97: If I swat you, you don't swat back. EVER. You never raise a hand to your mate.]
[Rule 98: No tongue unless I grant permission.]
[Rule 99: Learn what I like before you touch me. Gentle or don't bother.]
[Rule 100: If we end, you keep your muzzle shut. No screenshots, no stories. Every wolf believes I was the perfect mate.]
Then I sent one more.
[Oh, and Celia's courting someone new. Younger. Adrian Harrington, I think. If that's a problem, we can just unfriend each other.]
[I don't have time to waste either.]
[And relax. Once we're mated, I'll make you look like a proper Alpha in public.]
Weston stared at his phone. What kind of moon-cursed rules were these?
There was NO way he was agreeing to this.
He read the list twice, pacing his den like a caged wolf. Celia had never pulled anything like this.
Rule 58: one minute late on a reply and they were finished.
She HAD to be messing with him.
He glared at the screen, jaw locked, face burning.
I put the red dress on anyway. Found my angle. Snapped the photo. Sent it.
[Too tight in the chest, wrong size, and I hate red. Memorize my measurements and every rule. Quiz tomorrow.]
One minute ticked by. Silence.
I blocked him.
Weston had barely finished the rules. Then the photo loaded, and his brain went offline.
She'd removed her glasses. The red dress cut sharp against her pale skin, and her expression stayed unreadable - like she couldn't care less who was staring.
Something snagged in his chest.
Two moons of cold silence, then this. It hit like a claw to the ribs.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and typed: [Fine.]
He'd agree for now. Once they were actually mated, he'd talk her down. No way she'd actually hold him to all one hundred.
Then he saw the red warning beside his message.
[NOT DELIVERED]
Weston's jaw clenched. "She actually blocked me."
That night, Weston unblocked me and sent a new request. By sunrise, he'd reserved a table at Moonstone Hall.
He even hinted he'd introduce me to his pack brothers soon.
The silver script lit up.
[The Alpha heir ACTUALLY followed the rules. Fifteen minutes early.]
[Hold on. Courting night and she's bare-faced? Not even a swipe of gloss?]
[A hundred rules for HIM and she can't even put on mascara. The AUDACITY.]
[He made the wager. Let him suffer.]
I arrived exactly on time. Weston was already waiting outside Elderwood Hall, dark circles carved under his eyes.
He'd tried to cover them. It wasn't working.
His gaze dragged over me. His mouth flattened.
"That's what you're wearing? First courting night and you didn't even try?"
Wasn't that the bare minimum? Making an effort for a courting night?
I didn't blink. "Rule twenty-three."
No hesitation. "My time, my clothes, my plans - all dictated by my mate."
"Relax. Thousand-word list. I had it memorized by moonrise."
"Nailed it?"
I nodded, then cut in. "I don't do fancy pack feasts. And I definitely don't do Luna-tier restaurants."
"That's Celia's territory."
His smile died. He couldn't hide the guilt if he tried.
That's when Celia strolled out of Elderwood Hall.
The silver script scrolled in.
[The Ellery heir clearly still has feelings. Why else would she track the side character's schedule?]
[She timed it so the Alpha heir would see her with the new male. She wants him jealous.]
[They're both playing the same game. Neither one will bare their throat first.]
