Chapter 2

The door slammed shut behind me, the final punctuation to my exile.

I stood there in the hallway, staring blankly at the cracked wooden floor beneath my feet. My cheek still throbbed from my father’s slap, and my fingers were sticky with blood from how tightly I’d clenched my fists.

But that pain—it was nothing compared to what I felt in my chest.

Betrayal. Loneliness. Rage so sharp it threatened to carve me from the inside out.

I swallowed the scream caught in my throat and walked stiffly to the tiny, cold room at the back of the house. It used to be the storage room—until my mother decided it was fitting for the disgrace of the family. Me.

I pushed the creaky door open and stood in the doorway, looking around at the pathetic excuse of a room I’d been reduced to. A thin mattress on the floor. A broken dresser missing one leg. A cracked mirror.

They’d stolen everything from me. My dignity. My birthright. My future.

But they hadn’t stolen me.

Not yet.

I grabbed the small cloth bag I kept beside the mattress. It had a few belongings—some clothes, an old book with the corners worn and curled.

I tucked it all inside, ignoring the way my fingers trembled. The clock on the wall ticked with every second closer to nightfall.

Tonight, I would be sent to the Alpha King's palace. With the other omegas. Like cattle to slaughter.

They all said he was cursed. Touched by death itself. That his bed was a graveyard of broken women.

But what choice did I have?

My chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths as I stood in front of the cracked mirror. My reflection stared back at me, pale and ghostlike. My eyes were rimmed red from crying in silence too many nights. My lips were chapped, and the bruise blooming on my cheek stood out like a scarlet brand.

And still, somewhere deep in that reflection, I saw something else—something they didn’t.

Fire.

I wiped the blood from my palm and pressed my fingers to the glass.

"You’ll survive,” I whispered to myself. “You’ll survive this, even if it kills you.”

****

The ride to the palace was in a rusted black van that smelled like wet dogs and old metal. There were six of us in total, all dressed in the same plain gray dress that clung awkwardly to our bodies. We were sacrifices.

I recognized a few of them from other packs. Some were shaking in fear. Others were trying to mask it behind false bravado. Me? I stayed silent.

I stared out the window, watching the trees blur past, the darkening sky swallowing the sun in slow, greedy bites. The closer we got to the palace, the colder the air felt.

They said the Alpha King's palace was carved into the side of the Black Mountains. That no sunlight ever touched it. That no laughter ever echoed within its walls. That it was cursed… like the man who ruled it.

I didn't know what to expect. All I knew was I wasn’t going there to die.

I was going there to live.

By the time we arrived, the moon was high and full, hanging like a silent witness in the starless sky. The palace loomed in front of us—black stone and jagged towers, its walls crawling with ivy that looked more like veins than plants.

I stepped out of the van, my breath catching in my throat.

The rumors hadn’t done it justice.

It looked like a fortress built by death itself.

Guards stood by the massive iron gates, dressed in complete black. Their eyes scanned us with disinterest as the van driver handed over some papers. A list, no doubt.

We were lined up, inspected like animals at market. One of the guards came down the line, his nose wrinkling as he looked us over.

He stopped in front of me.

“Name,” he barked.

“Emilia,” I replied, voice steady.

He raised a brow at me. “Daughter of?”

My jaw tightened. “Alpha Gregor of the Red Moon Pack.”

That made him pause. “Alpha’s daughter?”

“Not anymore,” I muttered.

He looked me over again, and I saw the flicker of something in his eyes—pity? Curiosity? It was gone as fast as it came.

“Move,” he ordered, pointing toward the gate.

We were herded in like sheep.

Inside, the palace was eerily quiet. The stone walls were cold to the touch, the corridors long and narrow. The air smelled of old ashes and something metallic—blood, maybe.

A woman in a tight black dress with sharp eyes and an even sharper tone greeted us in the main hall.

“You will remain silent unless spoken to. You will not speak of the King unless commanded. You will not look him in the eye.”

She paced in front of us like a predator.

“If you are called upon, you will go. Without protest. Without hesitation. If you scream… no one will come.”

Another girl to my left whimpered.

The woman’s eyes snapped to her. “Do not test the King’s mercy. There is none.”

She turned to us fully. “You will now be taken to your quarters. One of you will be summoned tonight.”

It became silent as she paced, looking at each one of us like she was deciding who will be suitable for slaughter tonight.

Her eyes finally settled on me.

I didn’t flinch.

Her lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Take her first.”