The Game Has Begun

Lady Miranda stepped in, her brows knit with worry as she took in the sight of her husband—red-faced, breath hissing, eyes dark with rage.

“Peter?” she asked carefully. “What happened?”

He didn’t reply. Merely waved a dismissive hand and turned his back to her, hoping she’d go away. But Miranda had learned long ago not to leave her husband when his temper burned hot.

“You’re pacing like a caged bear,” she said, stepping closer. “Is it something about the meeting?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, but still said nothing.

“Peter,” she pressed again, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Talk to me, dear.”

After several heartbeats, he finally growled out, “That boy—Theo. The way he shut me up during the meeting, as if I were some inexperienced pup. He thinks because Damian favors him, he can humiliate me?”

Miranda’s gaze softened. “He is the Alpha now.”

“Appointed,” Peter spat. “Not born to it. Not raised for it. Just a toy of Damian’s.”

She hesitated before speaking, then said quietly, “Be careful with such words. If Alpha Damian hears of your discontent—”

“Let him hear it!” Peter snapped.

But Miranda stepped closer, her voice firmer now. “Don’t be foolish, husband. Damian isn’t known for patience. You question Theo in front of others and word spreads… it won’t be Theo you’ll answer to—it’ll be the man who gave him that throne.”

Her words struck a nerve. Peter blinked at her, shocked by the lack of loyalty in what he’d expected to be supported.

“So you’re taking his side now?”

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” she said sharply. “Think. If you act too hastily, you’ll end up banished—or worse. Is your pride worth that?”

Peter’s nostrils flared, his pride wounded further by her reasoning. For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension thick between them.

Then, slowly, he relaxed his posture and nodded.

“You’re right, my love” he murmured, voice calm again. “You’re right, Miranda. I’ll stay quiet. I’ll show respect.”

Miranda gave a soft smile and touched his cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

But as soon as she turned to fetch water for him, Peter’s eyes grew cold.

His fists clenched again—quietly, beneath the folds of his sleeves.

Theo made me kneel in words today, he thought darkly. But soon… he’ll pay for the insult. He’ll wish he never sat on that throne.

Samantha moved like a fleeting shadow through the house.

With her mother's advice, gone were her extravagant gowns and jewels. She wore a plain brown cloak, a faded linen dress beneath, and her thick hair was pulled into a tight, unflattering braid. The only thing she couldn’t hide was the fire burning in her eyes.

“Remember,” her mother whispered at the door, smoothing her cloak like a dutiful servant, “you are nobody there. At least not yet.”

Samantha gave a short nod, then slipped out the back gate and disappeared down the long road toward the Pack's border.

She didn’t look back.

---

A Minutes Later…

The front door burst open.

Cedric, Samantha's father's footsteps thundered into the house, his presence like a brewing storm. “Where is Samantha?!”

Lady Verena, ever the picture of calm poise, was seated in the lounge with a porcelain cup of tea in her hands, sipping slowly.

She looked up at her fuming mate with a gentle expression. “She’s left.”

“Left? What do you mean ‘left’? Without my permission?!”

Verena set the cup down with a quiet clink, folding her hands on her lap. “She’s gone to stay with her aunt… in the eastern side of the pack.”

Cedric’s face darkened. “And you let her go?! Alone?! Without asking me?!”

She stood now, her face shadowed in feigned concern. “Do you know what your constant confinement has done to her? She’s been falling into a terrible depression, Cedric. You never let her out of this house. She barely eats, she lashes out at the servants. If she stayed any longer, I feared she’d do something… irreversible.”

He frowned, visibly conflicted. His voice dropped a notch. “Why didn’t she speak to me? Why wouldn’t she tell me herself?”

Verena stepped forward, resting a hand on his chest. “Because you scare her,” she said softly. “You love her, I know, but she doesn’t feel that right now. She thinks you’ve given up on her. This time away… it might help her reset. She’ll be surrounded by her cousins, and the pack is peaceful now. What harm could possibly come to her there?”

He stared at her long and hard.

Finally, he let out a weary sigh. “Fine. Let her stay for a while. But I want a word from her every two weeks. Understand?”

Verena gave a sweet smile. “Of course.”

Satisfied—for now—Cedric turned and stalked off toward his study, the door slamming shut behind him.

The silence that followed was cold and thick.

Lady Verena remained still for a moment, her back straight, her hands clasped. But slowly, her gentle expression began to slip.

Her lips curved into a cruel, victorious sneer.

“Fool,” she murmured under her breath. “You think I’d let her waste away in this house? No. She’s going to rule.”

She turned toward the mirror by the fireplace, adjusting her earring.

“And I’ll soon be the mother-in-law of the new Alpha of Dam-Nighade Pack. Imagine that…”

Her reflection stared back at her—beautiful, cunning, and merciless.

“Rina won’t know what hit her.”

----

An Hour later...

Dust clung to Samantha’s boots as she staggered toward the Pack's border. The sun blazed high above, and her elegant features were damp with sweat. Still, she kept her chin lifted and her stride confident.

Two patrol guards eyed her warily as she approached. Their hands lingered near their weapons, but when Samantha slowed her pace, gave them a soft, tired smile, and tilted her head just so—both guards shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m just a traveler to the new pack,” she said with a breathy, apologetic voice, brushing back a strand of loose hair. 

"What is your name?" The guards asked her.

"Matilda is my name! And my dad is officer Murdock, a high ranking in the pack" She lied. “My cousins were among those taken to the new pack. I just… wanted to pay them a visit.”

She didn’t mention a name. Didn’t have to. The tight bodice beneath her cloak, the way her lips curved as she spoke, the subtle flutter of her lashes—it all worked like a charm.

After a few whispered words between them, the guards waved her through. She blew them a kiss and walked on.

But once far enough from their line of sight, Samantha’s charming mask slipped. She grimaced, pulling off her cloak. The walk was longer than she’d expected—her delicate feet ached, and the sun showed no mercy.

By mid-afternoon, her limbs trembled with exhaustion. She spotted a massive tree with wide, shady branches and sank beneath it in relief. Her back slid against the trunk. She let her eyes close for a brief moment, thinking of what more lies to tell when she finally gets to Dam-Nighade Pack's border 

Then—voices. She heard echoes of voices from afar.

Rough. Male. Multiple.

Her body tensed as she scrambled up the tree for safety, while scanning the trail. Peering around the trees, she saw them: four rugged men leading a group of at least fifteen people. All were bound with ropes, their faces streaked with dirt, eyes downcast. Some limped. Some whimpered. 

Samantha’s brow lifted. Slavers.

A wicked grin crept across her face.

“Perfect.”

She scrambled further up the tree just as the voices grew closer, perching like a cat in the thickest part of the foliage. From above, she watched them shuffle forward. The sight triggered an idea so devious, even she was impressed.

“If I enter as a slave… no one will suspect a thing.”

Sliding down the trunk, she acted quickly. She tore the hem of her gown, smeared soil across her cheeks, chest, and legs, and ruffled her hair until it was a nest of tangled knots. Then she lay flat on the path—arms outstretched, lips parted, face slack.

She stilled her breathing.

A few moments later, a sharp voice barked, “Oi! What’s that?”

Two of the slavers approached cautiously, boots crunching twigs.

“Is she dead?”

One of them knelt beside her and touched her wrist.

“No. Alive. Barely.”

“What do we do with her?” the other asked. “Could be trouble.”

The first one snorted. “She’s small. Pretty. Could fetch a decent price. Toss her in.”

Samantha kept her eyes shut as they hauled her limp body toward the rear of the group. She was shoved into a wooden cart filled with sacks of feed and dried hay—used mostly for transporting food for horses, but now, a perfect hiding place.

The moment they walked off, Samantha’s lips curled into a sly smirk.

“Rina, you stupid little dove,” she whispered to herself. “You may have gotten Theo’s ring… but I’ll have his name.”

As the wagon rattled forward and the slavers resumed their march into Dam-Nighade Pack, Samantha closed her eyes—not to sleep, but to plan.

The game had begun….