CHAPTER ONE

Chapter One: The Day Everything Burned

"Sera! Come see the butterfly cocoons! They are starting to split open!"

I dropped my handful of wildflowers and raced toward Mama's voice, my bare feet slapping hard against the warm stone path. The garden smelled like sweet jasmine and wet earth, and I was already planning to ask Papa if we could stay out here until the stars came out so we could count them together like we always did on clear nights.

A scream tore through the peaceful afternoon air, and I froze completely, the scattered petals drifting down around my feet. Another scream pierced through the garden, followed by shouting—so much shouting it sounded like the whole pack house was on fire.

"Mama?" My voice came out small and frightened.

But she did not answer me.

She was not by the butterfly bush anymore. The delicate cocoons hung empty and forgotten as more screams poured from the windows above us, echoing off the stone walls.

I knew I should stay put. I should wait for someone to come and tell me what was happening and that everything was okay.

Instead, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, racing toward the pack house with my heart pounding in my chest.

When I got there, what I saw sent terrible chills racing down my spine.

The pack house doors stood wide open, and warriors were streaming in and out like angry birds disturbed from their nest. Their faces were twisted with rage and something else I could not name.

Without hesitating, I slipped between their legs, following the terrible sounds deeper into the building where I was not supposed to go without permission.

The marble floors that usually shone like perfect mirrors were muddy now, covered with dirt and something darker that made my stomach turn.

The great hall erupted with overwhelming noise as I pushed through the crowd of adults. Everyone was here—every single pack member, every warrior, all pressing forward desperately to see something I could not quite reach.

Then I finally saw what was causing all the chaos.

Papa knelt in the center of the room, his strong hands tied cruelly behind his back. Blood dripped steadily from his split lip, staining his torn shirt. His eyes found mine across the chaos, and the fear I saw there stopped my heart cold in my chest.

"Papa!" I screamed, my voice breaking.

I tried to push forward, but someone's large hands grabbed my shoulders hard, holding me back.

"Murderer!" someone in the crowd shouted viciously.

"Kill him! He deserves to die!"

"He took our future Alpha from us!"

Alpha Darius stood over Papa like a mountain of pure rage, his eyes blazing bright gold with his wolf's fury. "Confess, Kieran. Confess what you did to my son! Tell everyone here the truth!"

"I did not do it—" Papa's voice cracked with emotion. "Darius, please, you have known me for years. You know I would never hurt Marcus. I would never—"

"Marcus is dead!" The Alpha's roar silenced the entire room instantly. "My boy was found in the ravine with your scent all over his body! Your scent, Kieran!"

My stomach dropped violently, my legs weakening until I could barely stand. Marcus—Zephyr's older brother, the kind one. The golden boy who always snuck me honey cakes from the kitchen and taught me how to skip stones across the lake.

He was dead? Really dead?

Why were they saying Papa killed him? He would never hurt anyone. Papa was good and kind and gentle.

"I found the body," Papa whispered, his broad shoulders shaking. "I tried to help him, tried to save him, but I was too late. Someone else did this. Someone else killed him and left him there—"

"Lies!" Alpha Darius used his massive hand to backhand Papa so hard across the face that blood sprayed across the pristine marble floor. "The evidence is clear as day, traitor!"

I wrenched free violently from whoever was holding me and stumbled forward, my small heart racing. "Stop hurting him!" I screamed as loud as I could. "Leave my papa alone!"

The crowd parted reluctantly as I ran to Papa, my small hands pressing desperately against his bleeding face. He was warm and solid and alive, not the monster they were painting him as.

"Sweet girl," he whispered brokenly against my hair. "I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry this is happening."

Strong arms yanked me away roughly. "Get the child back. She should not be seeing this."

I twisted hard in the warrior's iron grip, searching the faces around us desperately. Where was Zephyr? He should be here defending Papa—Papa had taught him how to track, how to fight, how to be brave and honorable. Zephyr knew Papa was not a killer. He knew.

Then I finally saw him.

He stood behind his father like a dark shadow, his black hair falling over his eyes. Ten years old, the same age as me, but looking ancient in his complete stillness. Our eyes met across the chaos, and I waited for him to step forward. To say something. To tell them all they were wrong about Papa.

But he did not move. Instead, he slowly dropped his gaze to the floor, refusing to look at me anymore.

"The pack demands justice!" someone screamed from the back.

"Blood for blood!"

"Death to the traitor who killed our future!"

"No!" I tore free again with desperate strength, throwing myself between Papa and the angry crowd. "He did not do it! Papa would not hurt anyone! You all know him!"

Alpha Darius's blazing golden eyes fixed on me, and I saw absolutely no mercy there. Only cold rage. "The bloodline is tainted. The guilt runs in his veins."

"Then let his blood pay the price!" someone shouted.

The chant rose like a terrible tide: "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

"Darius." Papa's voice cut through the noise, steady now despite everything. "If you must take my life, then take it. But spare my family. They are innocent in all of this."

"Are they?" The Alpha circled us slowly like a predator. "How do I know the daughter will not grow up seeking revenge? How do I know the mate will not poison other minds against me?"

"Because I give you my word as a wolf."

"Your word?" Alpha Darius laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "Your word is worth nothing, murderer."

He signaled sharply to the warriors. "Take him to the courtyard. The pack will have their justice tonight."

"No!" I clung desperately to Papa's arm as they dragged him away. "Papa, do not leave me! Please!"

His eyes were wet when he looked back at me one last time. "Be strong, little star. For Mama. Promise me you will be strong."

The courtyard filled rapidly with voices baying for blood like wild animals. I stood pressed tightly against Mama, her hands shaking violently as she held me tight against her body. Papa knelt in the center again, his head held high even as the executioner's massive blade caught the cold moonlight.

"Any last words?" Alpha Darius asked coldly.

Papa's eyes found mine one final time. "I love you, Seraphine. Remember that always. No matter what happens."

The blade fell with a sickening sound.

His head rolled away from his body.

My scream shattered the night, but it could not bring him back.

"Kieran's mate and child will be banished from this pack," Alpha Darius announced over my broken sobs. "Ten years of exile for their tainted blood. Let them wander the wilderness until the shame washes clean."

"Ten years?" Mama's voice broke. "She is just a child, Darius. Just a baby."

"She is the child of a murderer." The Alpha's tone held no room for argument. "Be grateful I am not ordering her death as well."

Mama's hands tightened around mine, and I could feel her entire body quivering, even as she tried to console me.

She was crying, pleading, saying something desperate.

But my mind could not process what she was saying. No. I could not hear her words over the roaring in my head.

I could not hear anything being said around me because all I could hear, all I could think of was my papa—as my eyes stayed glued to his head which was now pale and lifeless, and his body laying in a growing pool of his own blood.

They had killed him.

He had done nothing wrong, and they had murdered him right before my eyes.

I could almost feel my heart physically breaking as each breath I took felt like tiny shards of needles being dragged through my lungs.

Tears were streaming endlessly down my face as I still looked at him, but nothing could bring him back.

My papa was gone.

Dead.

Murdered—for something he did not do.

They had taken Papa from us and now they wanted to take our home too.

Mama's desperate pleas did not help apparently because in just a few minutes, we were being escorted roughly to gather our things.

Whispers followed us through the halls like poison—murderer's daughter, tainted blood, cursed child. Every face that had once smiled warmly at me now turned away in disgust.

Zephyr stood at his bedroom window as we were loaded into the exile cart. I pressed my face to the glass, hoping—praying—he would look at me. That he would remember our friendship, our promises, our secret place by the lake where we said we would be friends forever.

Instead, he closed the curtains firmly, as if he could not bear to look at me.

As if I had never mattered at all.

---

The wilderness swallowed us whole. Three days of walking, Mama growing weaker with each painful step. Three days of her crying Papa's name in her sleep. Three days of cold rain and colder stares from the guards escorting us to the border.

On the fourth morning, Mama did not wake up.

I shook her shoulder desperately until my arms ached. "Mama? Mama, please. Please wake up."

But grief had claimed her the way the blade had claimed Papa. Her heart had simply stopped beating for a world without him.

The guards abandoned me there, beside her still form. Ten years old and utterly alone in the world.

For two days I sat with her body, talking to the silence. Telling her about the butterflies she would never see emerge from their cocoons. About the flowers we would never plant together in the spring.

On the third day, hunger drove me to move.

I stumbled through the forest on unsteady legs, following a stream that tasted like minerals and desperate hope. The berries kept me alive, barely. My clothes hung loose as my body burned through what little fat a child could carry.

I was dying by degrees when they found me.

Three figures emerged from the shadows like smoke given form. Rogues—I could smell it on them, that wild untethered scent that pack wolves feared.

"Well, well." The woman's voice carried a trace of dark amusement. "What do we have here?"

I should run. Every pack instinct screamed at me to flee. But I could barely stand, let alone escape three full-grown wolves.

"Just a lost pup," said one of the men. "Probably from Crescent Moon pack. Should we just leave her?"

"No." The third voice stopped them cold. "Bring her."

They lifted me like I weighed nothing, carrying me deeper into rogue territory than any pack wolf had ever returned from alive. But I was not pack anymore, was I?

I was nothing.

The Rogue King waited in a clearing that felt older than memory itself. Tall as a tree and twice as dangerous, with scars mapping his face like constellations. When his silver eyes met mine, I saw something I had not seen in days.

Interest.

"What is your name, little wolf?"

"Seraphine." My voice sounded like dry autumn leaves. "They killed my papa."

"Did they now?" He crouched to my level, studying my face with predator focus. "And what did dear papa do to earn such treatment?"

"Nothing." The word came out sharp as broken glass. "They said he murdered someone, but Papa would never—he was good. He was kind."

"Ah." Understanding flickered in those silver depths. "You are Kieran's daughter. I heard about the trial. Such a waste of a good tracker."

He knew Papa's name. Somehow that made the tears come harder.

"They took everything," I whispered.

"Yes." His voice held no sympathy, but no cruelty either. "They did. The question is—what will you do about it?"

I looked up at him through my tears, this legendary figure who made pack Alphas wake screaming. "I do not know how to do anything. I am just a kid."

"Just a kid." He laughed, the sound carrying an edge of steel. "Just a kid with rage burning in her belly and nowhere left to fall. Do you know what I see when I look at you, Seraphine?"

I shook my head.

"Potential." He extended one scarred hand. "I can teach you to be more than pack. More than what they made you. But it will not be easy, and it will not be kind."

His hand hovered between us like a bridge to another life entirely.

"What do you say, little wolf? Ready to learn how to bite back?"

I thought of Papa's head rolling across the stones. Of Mama's cold body. Of Zephyr closing his curtains.

Of everything they had taken from me.

I nodded and took his hand.