Chapter 2

“You stupid, useless bitch.”

The slap came out of nowhere, snapping Wren’s head to the side and sending stars exploding across her vision. She stumbled backward, tasting blood where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek.

Mara stood over her, trembling with rage. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Alpha Voss could have chosen any woman in this pack—any woman—and instead he chose you. A nobody. A servant. An Ashford.”

Wren didn’t respond. What could she say? She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t done anything except exist—and apparently, that was crime enough.

“My daughter was supposed to be chosen,” Mara hissed. “My Lydia. She’s beautiful, well-bred, worthy. And instead, that monster picked you.” She grabbed Wren’s hair and yanked her head back, forcing their eyes to meet. “What did you do? Did you spread your legs for him? Bewitch him somehow?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Wren whispered.

“Liar!” Another slap, this one hard enough to split her lip. “You must have done something. No Alpha chooses a healer’s spawn without reason.”

Wren’s blood ran cold. There it was. The word that had defined her entire life, the legacy that had gotten her family killed and left her an orphan in enemy territory.

Healer.

The Ashfords had been healers for generations—wolves blessed with the ability to mend wounds and cure sickness through the power of their touch. They’d been respected once, even revered. But that was before the purge. Before the other packs decided that healers were too powerful, too dangerous, and needed to be eliminated.

Wren’s mother had been the last true healer. She’d died with her hands still glowing, trying desperately to save Wren’s father while their house burned around them.

Wren had inherited the gift. She’d known since she was twelve, when she’d accidentally healed a bird with a broken wing. But she’d kept it hidden, buried so deep even she sometimes forgot it existed. The gift only worked when she cared about the creature she was healing, and Wren had made damn sure not to care about anything in this hellhole.

“I’m not a healer,” she said, the lie she’d told a thousand times. “I can’t—”

“Save it.” Mara released her with a shove that sent Wren crashing into the wall. “It doesn’t matter now. By tomorrow, you’ll be Alpha Voss’s problem.” A cruel smile twisted her lips. “And from what I’ve heard, he breaks his toys quickly.”

She left, slamming the door behind her. Wren slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, pressing her hand to her bleeding lip as her mind raced.

Why her? Of all the women in the pack, why had Cain Voss chosen her?

The answer was obvious, but she didn’t want to believe it. He’d recognized her name. He knew what Ashford meant, what she potentially was. But how? The healers had been hunted to extinction over a decade ago. Most people didn’t even believe they were real anymore.

He wants to use me, she realized with growing horror. He found out what I am, and he wants to use me.

But use her for what? Healing? Was someone in his pack sick? And if so, why the elaborate charade? Why pretend to be choosing a tribute bride when he could simply—

A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Wren tensed, expecting Mara returning for round two, but the voice that came through the door was unfamiliar.

“Miss Ashford? May I come in?”

Male. Calm. Not aggressive. Wren pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her ribs. “It’s not locked.”

The door opened to reveal a man she didn’t recognize—middle-aged, with grey temples and kind brown eyes that seemed out of place in a wolf’s face. He wore the insignia of the Black Hollow pack, which meant he belonged to Cain Voss.

“My name is Thorne,” he said, stepping inside. His gaze swept over her—the split lip, the bruising cheek, the defensive hunch of her shoulders—and something like sadness flickered in his expression. “I’m Alpha Voss’s beta.”

Wren’s guard went up immediately. “What do you want?”

“To prepare you for the journey.” He held up a bundle she hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Clothes. Supplies. We leave at dawn, and I thought you might want…” He hesitated, looking at the empty room. “Things.”

Things. Right. Because normal people owned things.

“Why?” she asked flatly. “Why does your Alpha want me?”

Thorne’s face went carefully blank. “He’ll explain when he’s ready.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.” He set the bundle on her mat and straightened. “Get some rest, Miss Ashford. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

He turned to leave, but something made Wren call out: “Wait.”

Thorne paused at the door.

“The stories about him,” she said. “About Alpha Voss. Are they true?”

For a long moment, Thorne didn’t answer. Then: “Some of them.” He looked back at her, and she could have sworn she saw something like pity in his eyes. “Try to sleep, Wren.”

The door closed behind him.

Wren stared at the bundle he’d left behind, her mind churning. Some of them. Some of the stories were true. But which ones? The killing? The torture? The teeth necklace?

Does it matter? a cold voice in her head asked. He’s an Alpha. They’re all the same. They all take what they want and destroy what they don’t.

She didn’t sleep that night.