LOGIN“I hate him,” I screamed into the empty hall. “I hate him for doing this to me. I hate him for choosing power over me.” My voice shook, broken and feral.
“And I hate that no matter how much I beg, it doesn’t matter. He wouldn't change his mind because I don’t matter.”
The training, the bruises, and endless drills with Luma had hardened my body, but my heart was still fragile and raw. And right now, I could feel my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. I didn’t want to leave. This was my home. My mother’s grave lay beneath the willow tree here. My childhood lingered in every corner of this pack’s lands. The scent of the woods, the howl of the wolves at night was all I knew. I wanted to belong. I wanted to stay. But my father had made his choice. I was chained to Malrick’s cruelty. And no matter how much I begged, he would never undo it. My breath trembled. “So this is it,” I whispered to myself. “Either I leave, or I become his.” The thought of Malrick’s hand on me, his cold smirk, his control—it ignited something inside me. Terror, yes, but also fire. I would'nt let him have me. I would not be broken into a plaything for a man I despised. I wiped my tears with the back of myself as I forced myself to stand. I went straight to Aunt Luma's Chambers and pushed the door open without knocking. She was sitting by the fire, stitching something into a cloth. She looked up as I walked into her room and dropped what she was doing immediately. “What happened?” she demanded, rising to her feet. “My Fate is sealed.” My voice cracked, thick with grief and fury. “Father said I am to marry Malrick in two weeks.” Luma’s eyes darkened. She came closer, and held my shoulders. “And you—what did you say?” “I begged him. I screamed, I cried, I didn't everything I could.” I burst into tears. “He didn’t care, Aunt Luma. He didn’t care. He’s mind is made up. Nothing I say will change it.” Her hands tightened, steadying me. “Aria, listen to me. What do you want?” I answered without hesitation. “I'm ready. I don’t want to be his prisoner. I don’t want to be sold for power.” My tears came rushing, hot and fast. “I want to live. I want to be free.” Luma studied me, her sharp eyes searching mine. “Aria think carefully. Are you sure?” I froze. I knew what she meant. Was I really ready? To—to become someone else, to disappear into a world where discovery meant death. I thought of my mother’s grave, of Malrick’s smirk. I thought of my father’s voice, cold and final: Whether with dignity or in chains. My breath shook, but I nodded. “I’m sure.” For the first time, Luma’s expression softened with pride. She pulled me into her arms, hugging me tightly. She spoke softly into my ears. “I'll help you. We won't let him have you.” And just like that, my mind was made up. Before I let my father force me, I'll leave. I'll run for my dear life and go far away. To a place he can't find me.Malrick's POVSleep had finally come, heavy and dreamless, pulling me under after hours of staring at the dark and feeling the wrongness press against my chest. I'd surrendered to it reluctantly, knowing I needed rest, knowing tomorrow would bring whatever it brought.I didn't expect it to bring a blade.The pain woke me before my eyes could open. White-hot, shocking, tearing through the fog of sleep like lightning through clouds. Something cold and sharp buried itself in my shoulder—deep, so deep I felt it scrape against bone.My eyes opened and Bren stood over me.His face was a mask of rage and grief and something else—something broken that had finally shattered. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but his eyes were dry, burning with a hatred so pure it took my breath away. The blade in his hand dripped with my blood."You," he breathed. I opened my mouth to speak—to say something, anything—but he was already moving again. The blade rose, caught the faint light from the dying embers,
Bren's POV"Bren." Kai's voice, low and careful. The voice you use with wounded animals and broken people. "Look at me."I didn't look."Bren, we need to talk about this. We need to understand what happened."I understood what happened. Malrick happened. Malrick happened to my family, to my childhood, to every peaceful moment I'd ever tried to build in the years since. Malrick happened, and now he sat at the other end of this hall, watching me like I was a problem to be solved, like I was the villain in this story instead of him."Get him out of here," I said. My voice flat "Get him out of my sight, or I can't promise—""Bren." Kai's hand touched my shoulder. "We'll figure this out. Together. But you need to calm down first."Calm down.The words were so stupid, so useless, so completely wrong that I almost laughed. Almost. The sound that came out instead was something between a sob and a snarl, and I saw Kai flinch.Calm down!? While the man who murdered my family sat twenty feet awa
Bren's POVThe memory hit me like a blade between the ribs.One moment I was floating in that grey space where nothing existed—no pain, no fear, no thought. The next, I was drowning in images I'd buried so deep I thought they'd never surface.But they did. They always do.I saw the house first. Small, wooden, smoke rising from the chimney. My mother—my adopted mother, I knew now—stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, smiling at something my father had said. My little sister chased a chicken across the yard, her laughter bright as bells.I was there too. Small. Maybe six years old. Sitting on the steps, whittling a stick with a knife my father had given me for my birthday.It was ordinary. Perfect. The kind of moment you don't appreciate until it's gone.And then it was gone.Horses. Thunder in the distance, becoming louder. My father's face changing—smile fading, eyes narrowing. He stepped forward, putting himself between the approaching wolves and his family.There were
Aria's POVThe infirmary was quiet for the first time in days.I moved between the cots on autopilot, checking bandages, adjusting pillows, noting temperatures and pulses with the detached efficiency that exhaustion brought. My hands knew the motions even when my mind was elsewhere—counting supplies, tallying the wounded, running through the list of who still needed treatment and who could be moved to the main hall.Most of the wounded were stable now. Fen's arm would heal. Liv's head wound had left her with a headache but no lasting damage. Tor's thigh needed another day of rest before he could walk without help. Koren's ribs were bruised but not broken—Mira had done well with the binding.One—an older wolf whose name I hadn't learned—had died in the night. His wounds had been too deep, too infected, too far gone even for the black moss poultice. I'd covered his face and moved on. There was nothing else to do. The dead didn't need me. The living did.Bren lay in the corner cot, still
Malrick's POVThe stone was cold under my palms, I liked it like that anywayI stood on the wall, alone, staring out at the darkness beyond our borders. The night was quiet—too quiet, maybe, after everything that had happened. The kind of quiet that made your skin prickle and your hand reach for a blade that was already there.Behind me, the pack slept. Or tried to. I could hear them through the open windows of the hall—the soft sounds of exhausted rest, the occasional moan from the wounded, the murmur of someone talking in their sleep. They'd earned their rest. Fought hard, bled hard, lost friends and found fathers and somehow kept moving forward.I should have been among them, should have found a corner, closed my eyes, let the exhaustion take me but every time I tried, something pulled me back, a prickly feeling I just couldn't shake off Something wasn't over.I didn't know what. Alistair was dead—I'd seen the body, watched them burn it with the others. His forces were scattered,
Kai's POVI couldn't sleep.The ceiling above me was the same one I'd stared at for years—wooden beams, smoke-darkened, familiar as my own heartbeat. But tonight it looked different. Everything looked different.Beside me, Aria breathed slow and steady, her body curled toward mine, one hand resting on my chest. She'd fallen asleep within minutes of lying down, exhaustion finally claiming her after hours of tending wounds and organizing supplies and holding the pack together. I was glad she could rest. Glad someone could.I stared at the beams and tried to feel something.Alistair was dead.I'd watched Sylvie drive the blade into his throat. Watched the life drain from his eyes. Watched the monster who'd haunted our family for years become just another corpse on the floor.And I felt... nothing.Not relief. Not joy. Not even the satisfaction I'd imagined whenever I'd dreamed of this moment. Just hollow. Empty. Like someone had scooped out everything inside me and left only the shell.I







