The Ironfang Sacrifice

MAEVE

I stared at my father, completely convinced he must be playing some kind of sick, twisted joke.

A single year? A sacrificial Luna?

I waited for the punchline, waiting for him to crack a smile and tell me this was all a terrible prank to punish me for disappearing. But Desmond’s eyes only turned dead serious as he moved closer, rounding his massive mahogany desk. He explicitly mapped out his grand, desperate plan with a chillingly straight face.

"I thought of offering Valerie to him," my father confessed, his voice thick with panic. "But she is already spoken for. She is with someone else, and the Alpha King might become absolutely furious if he thinks we are trying to insult him by offering up another man's woman. Because of that, you are the absolute only choice left to appease him, Maeve."

He paused, his eyes darting over my completely healed skin. "And you have no idea how perfect this timing is. I had been terrified that we would have major issues getting the Alpha King of Ironfang to accept you with your scars, but now? With your face miraculously back to normal? I am extremely confident he will be thrilled to have you."

A bitter, incredulous scoff escaped my lips. I slammed a hand down on my thigh, my nails biting into my own flesh. "Hold on," I snapped, glaring at him. "Please do not tell me you made me travel all the way back from Aethelgard just to be told that I am about to be sacrificed to a literal demon."

Nobody in their right mind messed with Ironfang. Even I, someone who actively avoided Pack politics and knew very little of current affairs, knew exactly how dangerous they were. The reputation of Alpha Ronan Blackwood was infamous across every single territory. He was widely known as a vicious, bloodthirsty conqueror. He was shrouded in dark, terrifying rumors of having brutally murdered his own father and brother just to seize power.

"Alpha Ronan is not a demon, Maeve," my father said, looking genuinely surprised by my outburst.

"That is exactly what he is!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. "There are rumors that he slaughtered his own bloodline! How in the world do you expect me to just roll over and be with a man like that?"

"Those are mere speculations," Desmond shamelessly insisted, waving my concerns away like pesky flies. "Besides, you only need to endure being his Luna for a single year. One year, Maeve. That is nothing."

"You don't need a year to kill someone!" I fired back with venom. "All it takes is a minute. For a monster like Ronan Blackwood, I am sure half a minute would do just fine. And why does it even have to be for a year? If he wants a Luna, why a temporary one?"

"Honestly, I don't know," my father admitted, running a hand through his thinning hair.

"And you don't care," I accused, stepping right up to him. The humble, submissive puppet he once controlled was long dead. I was completely done letting this man dictate my life. "You only care about offloading your massive financial ruin onto my shoulders. You don't give a damn about the absolute nightmare you are throwing me into."

For a split second, shock flashed across his face. The old Maeve would never have raised her voice. She would have humbly bowed her head and agreed. But the new Maeve knew her worth.

Desmond physically stepped forward and grasped my hand. He squeezed my fingers with a desperate, pathetic intensity. His eyes were wide, glassy, practically begging me. I honestly thought he was going to drop to his knees right there on the expensive rug.

"Maeve, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "This is the very last thing I will ever ask of you. I am begging you for this one final, life-saving favor. Just do this for me, for only a year. Save the Pack."

I stared down at his trembling hands. A heavy, suffocating silence filled the study. Despite the thick resentment boiling in my blood, the residual, deeply ingrained filial duty inside me finally cracked. I hated him for it, but I slowly, reluctantly nodded my head. I caved.

Hours later, I stood completely alone in the quiet solitude of my old childhood bedroom.

I stared blankly at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I was adorned in a stunning, floor-length red gown. The fabric clung perfectly to my curves, and my hair cascaded in loose waves over my shoulders. I looked entirely ready to meet the terrifying Alpha King, even though every single cell in my body was screaming at me to run.

My anxiety bubbled over the bizarre one-year arrangement. Why would a reputed murderer want a temporary Luna? It made zero sense. But as I stood there in the quiet room, my mind inevitably drifted away from Alpha Ronan and gravitated toward a much deeper, older ache.

Like a magnet, I walked straight over to the small bedside drawer. I pulled the handle. Reaching all the way to the back, I pulled out a faded, crumpled piece of paper.

The ultrasound scan.

With trembling fingers, I brought the glossy paper up to the light. I gently traced the ghostly, faded outlines of my unborn babies. Twins. Five agonizing years had passed since that horrific night, yet looking at this single image remained simultaneously the best and worst thing that had ever happened to me.

It was a masochistic addiction. It possessed the devastating, unstoppable power to shatter my heart every single time I looked at it, yet I simply could not let it go. Hot tears welled in my eyes, threatening to ruin my makeup. I missed them so much. I mourned the life that had been violently ripped away from me before it even had a chance to begin.

My quiet, private grief was violently interrupted when the bedroom door aggressively burst open.

I jumped, hastily shoving the crumpled scan behind my back as my stepsister, Valerie, stomped into the room. She was fuming. Her eyes blazed with icy indignation as they swept aggressively over my miraculously healed face and the gorgeous red gown hugging my body.

"How did you do it?" Valerie demanded loudly, her voice dripping with pure malice. "How did you get rid of the scar? And what exactly is your master plan here, Maeve? You want everyone to see the beautiful new you, don't you? You think you are so special now."

I did not even flinch. I merely rolled my eyes. The profound, suffocating pain of the ultrasound instantly dissolved into pure, burning annoyance.

"Please don't tell me you aggressively barged into my room just to whine about how good I look," I deadpanned, looking her up and down with deep disappointment. "Did you really think I was going to look heinous forever?"

Valerie’s glare turned downright murderous. "Well, just so you know, this little makeover won't change a single thing between you and Cormac. He is completely ready to officially choose me as his mate. Soon, he will be here, and the two of you are going straight to the temple to make your breakup official."

She crossed her arms, a smug, triumphant smirk spreading across her face. "Years ago, things didn't work between us. But now? He wants me."

I stared at her for a long moment, utterly unimpressed.

"Using my leftovers?" I mocked, letting out a sharp, condescending laugh. I shook my head in pity. "Considering you have always prided yourself on being the 'pretty one', settling for my sloppy seconds is just pathetic, Valerie. I genuinely expected better from you."

Her smug smile instantly vanished, replaced by a tense, furious scowl. She opened her mouth to scream at me, but I stepped forward, completely shutting her down.

"You don't have to worry about me," I stated firmly, my voice turning to ice. "I am entirely done with Cormac Hastings, and I cannot wait to fully end things with him."

Without giving her another second to respond, I stepped right into her personal space, forced her out into the hallway, and forcefully slammed the bedroom door right in her stunned face. The loud *crack* of the wood echoed through the room, leaving me in total silence once again.

Shortly after the confrontation, my father and I climbed into the back of one of his luxury black SUVs. We traveled in heavy silence toward the dazzling, impossibly wealthy territory of the Ironfang pack.

As we pulled through the massive, heavily guarded gates, I could barely comprehend the sheer scale of the estate. It was intimidating, sprawling with enormous stone mansions and pristine, heavily fortified grounds. It was universally known as the biggest and wealthiest pack for a reason.

Upon our arrival, we were escorted by highly trained guards into a grand, sweeping hall with soaring ceilings and black marble floors. We were immediately and warmly greeted by Grand Luna Rowena, the formidable mother of Alpha Ronan.

"Desmond! I am so glad you made it," Rowena said, her voice commanding yet polite. She turned her sharp gaze to me, her eyes widening slightly. "Is this your daughter?" she asked my father. "Well, bless the Goddess, she is absolutely gorgeous."

Rowena genuinely marvelled at my breathtaking beauty, offering compliments that seemed entirely sincere. I forced a polite smile, dipping my head in respect.

"Please, come sit while we wait for Alpha Ronan," Rowena instructed, gesturing to a set of velvet couches. "He will be joining us shortly."

However, as the minutes dragged on, Rowena's polite warmth slowly faded into visible, tense irritation. The massive grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, echoing through the cavernous room.

Ten minutes turned into twenty. Twenty turned into forty.

We were left awkwardly waiting in the grand hall for nearly an entire hour for her son to make an appearance. My father was sweating profusely, shifting nervously on the couch. Every time a guard walked past, Desmond flinched. The sheer disrespect of making us wait this long was intentional, a massive power play from the Alpha King to remind us exactly who owned who.

Rowena finally stood up, her jaw tight with obvious anger, and excused herself to go find him. She returned a few minutes later, reassuring us with a tight, strained smile that he was finally on his way.

And then, it happened.

The heavy, imposing oak doors at the far end of the grand hall suddenly groaned open.

The very air in the room seemed to violently shift, the atmospheric pressure dropping so fast it made my ears pop. A heavy, suffocating wave of pure dominance flooded the space.

Alpha Ronan stepped into the room.

He was flanked intimately by two hulking, heavily armed guards, but they completely faded into the background the second he walked in. He was massive, radiating a dark, lethal energy that commanded total submission.

I held my breath. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs as my eyes locked onto the Alpha King. As he stepped fully into the light of the crystal chandeliers, I finally got a clear, unobstructed view of his face.

Pure, paralyzing horror clamped down brutally on my chest.

It squeezed my lungs so tightly it physically hurt to breathe. My blood ran cold, turning to absolute ice in my veins. My mind raced in a frantic, desperate panic, begging the universe that this was some twisted, impossible joke. My legs felt weak, and I had to grip the edge of the velvet couch to keep from collapsing right there on the marble floor.

Because how... how in the name of the Moon Goddess Selene was I staring directly at his flawlessly handsome face?

There was absolutely no mistake. The eyes, the jawline, the broad shoulders.

The terrifying Alpha King of Ironfang was the exact same man who took my virginity, promised me the world, and completely ruined me five years ago.