Chapter 4

For a moment, something in my father's eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to speak.

Russ's voice cut through the silence.

"Alpha! The enemy's mark!"

Russ pointed at me, fury twisting his face. "She carries a Northlands slave brand!"

It sat on my left shoulder. A flame-shaped scar burned deep into my flesh.

"She was a slave?"

"Why didn't the enemy kill her?"

"Traitor! She's a traitor! I knew it!"

"I'm not!" I struggled, chains rattling loudly.

My father's hand trembled slightly.

His voice rose, crushing the noise. "Silence."

The square fell quiet.

But the stares hurt more than the shouting ever had. They were sharp and cold, like needles against my skin.

Caleb stepped closer again.

"Wait!" I shouted hoarsely. "I still have something to say! Mom—"

"Enough!" my father barked. "You don't deserve to mention her."

I froze where I stood.

My father stepped down from the altar, his voice shaking.

"She spent her entire life protecting this pack. And you? You come back only to betray us!"

"I didn't—"

"Take her up!"

He shoved me aside.

I staggered backward and slammed into a stone pillar.

Caleb approached, holding a heavy iron collar lined with silver spikes.

"Caleb," I said, looking into his golden eyes, "you said you'd protect me."

His movements paused.

"Do you remember?" My voice came out soft. "When we were six, we were playing behind the ridge. You fell into a trap pit and broke your leg. I carried you all the way back. You told me anyone who bullied me would have to answer to you."

His throat moved as he swallowed.

"I didn't betray the pack. Will you believe me just once?"

He tightened his grip on the chain and glanced toward my father.

My father avoided his gaze.

"Proceed," he ordered.

The strength drained from my body all at once. Despair settled over me like cold water.

The collar snapped shut around my neck. Silver spikes pierced my skin.

Pain flashed white across my vision, almost forcing a scream out of me.

I swallowed it down.

My father climbed back onto the altar and accepted a torch from the priest.

The flame burned an unnatural silver white. It was a fire meant to scorch a wolf spirit itself.

He stopped in front of me.

The torch hovered about a foot from my face. Heat rolled over my skin.

"Lyla," he said one last time, "do you confess?"

I looked at the werewolf I called "Dad".

"My only crime," I said quietly, "was believing I still had a home here."

For a brief second, his face twisted in the firelight.

Then he lowered the torch and lit the altar.

Silver flames came alive, crawling toward me like living things.

The instant the fire touched my skin, a scream tore out of me.

The world blurred. Memories ripped free from my soul.

Light gathered above the altar, and the flames grew higher.

My thoughts began slipping away.

At the same time, my father was gripping his staff tightly and Caleb was staring upward, unmoving.

The trial had begun.

The sky shifted.

The first fragment pulled from my memories ignited above the altar.

Everyone lifted their heads to watch.

I looked up, too.

The memory formed into a scene.

A small stone room appeared. I recognized it immediately. It was the storage room I had been given after returning home.

A crack ran through the wall, leaking water every time it rained.

"This was your third day back." My father's voice rang out. "Do you remember what happened that night?"

I kneeled against the stone floor, my throat tight. "I remember."

"Good," he said. "Because Lucia cried all night."

The image moved.

The door opened, and Lucia stepped inside.

"Lyla," she said softly. "Are you asleep?"

The version of me in the memory sat up from the stone bed.

I looked thinner then. My gaze was wary, like a frightened animal.

"Do you need something?"

"I brought you something."

She pulled out a small cloth pouch and held it toward me. "Chamomile powder. Mix it with hot water. It'll help you sleep. You just got back. I figured you might be having trouble resting."

I didn't take it.

"I'm good."

Her hand lingered in the air.

"Lyla... do you hate me?"

I stayed silent.

"I know my presence makes things hard for you," she said, her voice catching. "Sometimes I feel like… I took your place."