Mag-log inSelene's POV
"So why did you force Mr. Blackthorn to swear one with you?"
"I didn't." I say quickly, my voice sharper than I intend.
"Sure, you don't want to think that answer over?"
What? My chest tightens.
"I did not." I insist.
The silence that follows feels heavy. Mr. Adercrest watches me. From the corner of my eye I see Devlin lean back in his chair, his lips curled in amusement. He is watching me too, hoping for cracks. He has never seen me crack, since he started bullying me, and he won't see one, not now. Not ever.
"Then why can't I bond with him?" Cecilia's voice slices the silence, fierce and demanding. I notice her for the first time, behind the council members. She looks ready to demand my blood.
"Because the moon won't let me." She spits, answering her own question. And I almost laugh.
Of course the moon won't let them mate. It's the winter solstice, and only true-born mates can mate, and they risk punishment if the committee finds out. There's a reason why the mating committee does not arrange mating on a full moon and winter solstice.
"It's the winter solstice." I call out her dumbness, relieved. Damien's mate isn't her. There's still hope for me. I hope my wolf emerges soon.
"Do you claim to know more about the moon than the Alpha, myself, and the council?" The Luna leans forward. "Do you?"
I don't reply.
"You'll break the moon oath. Tonight." Her voice is sure, clipped, and demanding. "Vey." A masked delta elite walks forward. "She doesn't stop hurting till the moon oath is broken and the bonding has happened."
Vey signals and two guards roughly grab me, dragging me through a different door than the one I came in through. I can't pin how I feel, I can't describe the emotions running through me. My head is free of the undecipherable whispers, like my wolf knows I need to think, and if she can't help, it's better she leaves me alone.
I close my eyes for a bit, trying to think. Moon oath. Bonding. Winter solstice. Damien.
I wonder where he is. What has been done to him. I remember his nerves and anxiety about the ceremony. I should have run away with him when he asked. I should have trusted Ashur. He knew the forest better. We could have escaped. We could have...
I am dropped into a chair roughly and I tumble over with it. I barely feel the pain and I have Devlin to thank, enduring his bullying built up my pain tolerance.
I sit up, scanning the room. It's a torture room. I hear there is one in the pack house and Bloodfang Keep, but seeing it, being in it, and knowing I am about to experience it…
Dear Moon.
I sit up and curl myself, refusing to imprint this room into my memory. I stare at my toes. The guards leave. Soon their echoing double footsteps are replaced by a single one.
"Strip."
I look up. It's Vey.
"I didn't do it." I plead.
He examines something, I have no idea what to call it. It looks like a claw but…
"We could do this easy or roughly." He says, flatly, bored even. "Your choice."
"I don't even know how to do a moon oath." I try to explain. With the moon nothing is easy, everything requires a ritual and clauses and whatnots.
"It's the winter solstice, I'm missing the bonfire and I promised my kids I wouldn't, so I won't ask you again. Strip."
"Where is Damien?"
I don't know why I ask that but he doesn't reply. He walks to me and I stand, walking back until my back hits some equipment. He picks me up with one hand, like I weigh nothing. My struggle feels like a child throwing a tantrum.
He chains me to a piece of equipment, with my back to him. He removes my scarf and strips me to just my bra and panties.
He rolls the equipment to the center of the room, then rolls a table to my front. "This is everything you need to break a moon oath. I'll bring the boy in at the last part."
He walks back to his torture table, out of sight. I hear him picking and dropping equipment. I look at the table in front of me. I recognize none of the items on it, except what looks like a moon rock. I have never seen one before.
Vey comes back into view, stabbing something in me. "Keeps the wolf at bay." I feel the trickling of the substance as it slides into my blood stream. I feel it form a block wall right in front of the link between my wolf and I.
I've never met my wolf but the link as always been there. Like a promise of companionship. A signal of hope. A vow of forever together. Now it's gone.
I reach out to the link but the block wall bounces me out. I'm locked out.
"What did you do?" I scream.
I'm scared now. Very scared. I feel helpless, bound and very lonely. I scan the room quickly looking for a way out but that doesn't help. It fills me up with dread instead. This room is savage. Torture equipments hang on every inch in the wall. From siver shackles, spiked collar, restraint harnesses and...a branding rod?
My eyes catch on a cage with a massive silver-lined collar and a cruel muzzle beside it, both far too wide for any human. So it was true, they tortured wolves too.
He goes out of view again. A moment later, the first whip lands.
I don't think I've ever screamed in my life. If I have, they're all nothing compared to the scream I let out now.
Marcus's POV She lunges again, wild and desperate, like she thinks rage will do what her wolf would have done. I catch her wrist mid-swing, twisting it just enough to force her off balance. She stumbles into me, breath sharp in my ear. “Too high,” I whisper, voice low enough that it burns. “You swing like you’re chasing shadows. You want to hit your mark, not air. Keep your elbow in.” She jerks free, eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me what to do!” I grin. “I don’t have to. But if I don’t, you’ll end up flat on your back again.” Her cheeks flush with anger. Good. Wolves come baring their teeth when their human is angry. She comes at me harder this time, a low sweep of her arm meant to take my ribs. I pivot, sidestep. Her momentum carries her forward, and I shove her lightly between the shoulders. She stumbles, barely catching herself. “Your feet,” I say, circling. “Too slow. Move like the ground will swallow you if you stay still.” She spins to face me, hair whipping her cheeks. “Shu
Marcus’ POVLycan’s Hollow breathes like the old beast she is, slow, heavy, and full of secrets. You learn to listen to it if you want to survive here. The wind carries gossip through the crumbling streets, the fires cough smoke into the night sky, and every stone wall remembers the weight of claws that don’t scratch anymore.Most people only see the ruins. The cracked walls, the broken wells, the way the houses sag like they’re tired of standing. But me? I see strength.Survival.We’re what’s left after the world tore itself apart. Ordinary, yes. Fragile, maybe.But still standing.I grew up on these streets, barefoot, scrawny, stealing bread before I could lift a knife. You either fight or you starve. Lyra, of course, always found another way. She stitched clothes, carried herbs, and smiled at the right people. She believes kindness has a place here. I never have the patience for that. You don’t survive in Lycan’s Hollow by being soft.Which is why that wolfless girl, Selene, gnaws
Selene's POV The council dismisses me with a mixture of murmurs and sharp eyes. Lyra keeps close as we leave the chamber, her steps careful, like she’s afraid I’ll collapse.My body aches, but it’s my pride that feels most torn apart. Human. Just human.A mere human. The lowest on the food chain.The air outside is colder than before, slicing through the thin tunic Lyra gave me. Lyra doesn’t comment, only leads me down the uneven steps and into the crooked streets. Ruins surround us: stone walls scribbled with claw marks that don’t match the faces of the people who pass by. Their gazes are too soft. Too ordinary. Too… Human.Children play near the broken well, their laughter high and unguarded. A girl trips, skinning her knee. Instead of healing in seconds, she bursts into tears, blood bright on her skin. Her mother hurries to scoop her up, whispering comfort while pressing a cloth against the wound.I can’t look away.It hits me like a blow. This is who I’ve become? I no longer ha
Selene's PovHuman.The single word echoes in my head and I can’t believe it.The door groans as they swing open. The sound taunts me, like I am another one of those who can’t accept reality.I am a werewolf, I almost say to it, but I feel Lyra’s hand pressing against the small of my back, urging me in behind the old man.The chamber beyond is a bit darker than I expected. I’m not sure what I expected, but I’m using the hall back in the pack house as a measuring stick.The chamber is round, its walls look like they are carved from ancient stones and etched with symbols that glow faintly blue and pulse alive.A witch’s handiwork.Seven figures sit above me in a crescent, high-backed chairs carved to look like thrones, because of course they would sit on thrones. Humans always like to pretend they are bigger than they are.The silence presses on my shoulders. My wrist still stings from the blood test outside, the cloth Lyra gave me pressing against my skin. The guard called me human, hi
Selene's POV “Tell Devlin I’ll like to see him.” If I’m not angry, I might laugh. I never thought a day would come when I’d want to see Devlin. But it’s high time I stop running and face him. What’s the worst he could do? Maybe finally get around to killing me. A cat can only play with a mouse for so long before its nature takes over. The old man raises an eyebrow, leaning lazily against the doorframe, lips curving into a sinister smile. He is amused. Lyra freezes mid-motion, the bundle of herbs trembling in her hands. I don’t look at her. “Devlin Draxmore?” the old man repeats, casual. Too casual. It comes across like sarcasm. Fake bravado surges through me. “Yes,” I snap. “Don’t act like you don’t know him.” His brows lift, flickering with a different kind of amusement. Maybe at my tone, maybe at my words. I can’t tell. I warn myself to tread carefully. I don’t know where he stands in the Draxmore ranks. For all I know, he could be higher than Vey and have the power to ma
Selene's POVI’m tired.I just want it all over.Whatever they can do to break the moon oath I didn't make, they should do.I just want to go home, soak myself in one of Alyssa’s medicines that smells like rotten fish but soothes the skin, let the world fade, and pretend tonight didn’t happen.My back hurts. My whole body hurts. I feel cold and mortified standing in just my underwear. Although the mortification seems to be the least of my worries.Witch symbols are the top of my priority right now.Growing up in a hybrid house with witches, I learned early that the more complex and intricate a witch symbol is, the farther you should stay from the ritual scene. And if it’s a multiple-symbol ritual, it’s best to run.Multiple symbols are safe fails. They mean the ritual can go wrong, and will most likely go wrong.I hear Alyssa’s mum in my head "Go to your room, Selene. And don’t come out until either me or Alyssa comes to get you." I see Alyssa smiling at me, eager to learn the new sp







