Chapter 1: The Gavel of a Traitor’s Trade

(Marcy’s POV)

The shaded hallway.

The scent of the Moon Pack.

Similar to wet stone and ancient blood, a grave for my father's heritage. 

I positioned myself close to the backend, arms firmly crossed over my chest, my nails piercing my skin to prevent my hands from trembling. 

The pack elders sit against the walls, their aging fur covering stooped shoulders, their whispers a gentle buzz beneath the flickering torches. 

Gabriel lounges across the Alpha’s throne, my father’s throne, his large body overshadowing the intricately carved oak. 

His hair, streaked with silver, shines like a knife, and those once-trusted warm brown eyes now sparkle with a strange chill, something I can't identify. 

He pounds his fist against the table, the noise a thunderous boom that straightens my back. “It has been decided,” Gabriel shouts, pounding his fist onto the table. 

The crack echoes through the corridor, piercing like a bone breaking. “In seven days, Marcy will go to the Sun Pack.”

A wild spread of density occupied the atmosphere, laden with the gravity of his speech. My heart skips, “in a week?” Sold off like a crippled horse to our enemies, our rivals, the Sun Pack? 

I nibble my lip, savoring metal, as a sudden idea ignites: Liberty. Far from Gabriel’s jeers, his clenched fists, the way he gazes at me as if I’m a thorn he can't remove. 

The elders move uneasily, their murmurs growing louder, yet none have the courage to look into his eyes, much less mine. Cowards. 

I’m anticipating one of them to snarl, to contest this, my father’s child, traded away?, but the hallway remains quiet except for Gabriel’s self-satisfied breathing. 

His gaze fixed on me at that moment, cold and inscrutable, trapping me like a moth on a surface. Liberty, certainly, but beneath that gaze, it seems more like a noose closing in. 

I glance at my mother, Evelyn, who is standing stiffly next to the throne. Her smooth blonde hair is tightly pinned, her dark silks immaculate, yet her icy blue gaze avoids my own. 

She’s a sculpture, full of hard lines and devoid of comfort. “Mom,” I say, my voice trembling despite my attempt to control it, “please say something!” The plea emerges, unfiltered and urgent, a child's wail I can't hold back. 

She must battle this, must. She is my mother, the person who sang me to sleep when Father was late from his hunts, who once wrapped up my scraped knees. 

Her lips grow thinner as she whispers, “It’s for the best,” in such a soft tone that I nearly overlooked it. The words cut into me, sharper than any talon. 

For the most favorable outcome? Selling me to Jason, the Alpha of the Sun Pack, the man who vowed to turn our pack to ash after Father passed away? 

My chest constricts, breath catching as I gaze at her turned-away face. She refuses to look at me. Can't even look at her own child. A knot of suspicion twisted in my stomach, what's the reason? 

What is she concealing beneath that serene facade? I feel like shouting, to shake her until she confesses this is incorrect, but my legs tremble, and I fall back, the hallway whirling. 

I push through the heavy doors into the night, the cold nipping at my skin as packmates dart away from my way. 

Their gazes drift off, their murmurs humming like insects around a dead body. "She’s now the late Alpha's disgrace," hisses one, an older she-wolf bearing a scar on her snout. 

I hold my head high, but suddenly a sudden smack hits the ground near me, saliva, shining on my shoe. 

It’s a message from Kael, a tall wolf I often raced through the forest with, laughing until our lungs ached. His lip twists now, and he murmurs, “Goodbye for good.” 

The pain isn't only in my boot, it's in my throat, my eyes, my entire being. They’re removing me, bit by bit, dismantling the girl who used to be their Alpha’s pride. 

My father's blood courses through my veins, his power, his passion, yet to them, I mean nothing now. A relic that is exchanged. I tighten my fists, fingernails digging further into my palms, and push my feet ahead. 

A week. Perhaps the Sun Pack isn’t a prison but a gateway, leading out of this abyss, away from Gabriel’s darkness. The hope glimmers, delicate like a candle in a tempest, yet it’s all I have.

I do not encounter Gabriel again until twilight, when I’m quietly moving by his study to evade another one of his many “conversations”, the type that concludes with unexplained bruises. 

The door’s ajar, and his voice oozes out, soft and slick. “She won’t make it through Jason’s fury,” he remarks, a laugh weaving through his words. My breath halts, and I lean in nearer, ear against the fractured wood. 

His beta, Torin, grunts, a noise I recognize as consent, even though his tone fluctuates. "Are you certain about this, Alpha?" 

“Jason has been anticipating this,” Gabriel responds, and I can imagine him drumming his fingers on the desk, that cocky beat he enjoys. "She is the ideal gift." 

Jason. The name falls heavily in my stomach. The Sun Pack’s merciless Alpha, the enemy of Father. I’ve listened to the rumours, about how he slaughtered his mate, Sophia for potency, how he vowed revenge on us following Father’s demise. 

Gabriel's joy sharpens the blade, but what is it that he knows? What anger is he pushing me into? My stomach twists, and I withdraw, heart racing. He’s not merely selling me; he’s offering me to a monster, and he seems pleased by it. 

In my room, I lock the door and collapse onto the floor, gripping my father’s dagger tightly in my trembling hands. The blade is battered and marked from fights he no longer discusses with me, but it remains sturdy and authentic. 

I run my thumb along the edge, murmuring, “Seven days to break free from this nightmare.” My voice shakes, yet I compel it to be calm. I envision it, a fresh start, somewhere out of Gabriel’s grasp, away from the Moon Pack’s disdain. 

Perhaps the Sun Pack isn’t doomed. Perhaps it's an opportunity. I press the dagger against my chest, its frigid steel steadying me, and allow that hope to unfold, frail and unsteady though it may be. 

Yet Jason’s name reverberates, a shadowy rhythm in my mind. Father despised him, labeling him a monster, a coward willing to betray his own pack for influence. 

If Gabriel is correct, if Jason's anger is looming, what am I rushing toward? My lip aches as I clamp down on it more firmly, the smatch of blood vivid on my tongue. A week. I can outwit Gabriel, escape before the exchange. I must. 

A loud knock startles me awake, the dagger falling to the ground. Gabriel’s voice cuts through the wood, harsh and eager. "Come out here, girl. We're not finished." 

My heart races, breath catching in my throat. The door shakes as he knocks again, and I rush to my feet, glancing between the dagger and the window. Seven days have compressed into seconds, what else does he want now?