Chapter 2: The Stripping

Irene.

I stood in the center of the room, they had tied my hands with a silver cord that burned against my wrists. The mark on my neck throbbed with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of the bond I could not escape.

"Irene Cardona." Elder Garrett spoke first, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "You have been accused of bringing disgrace upon your family and pack."

"I did not ask to be marked," I said, hating how my voice shook. "I did not consent. I was attacked—"

"Attacked?" My father's laugh was bitter. "Is that what you call sneaking off into the woods with a stranger?"

"I went for air. That's all. I swear!"

"Silence." He did not even look at me. "We have a witness who will testify to your true nature."

My stomach dropped. A witness?

Lyra stepped forward from the shadows, and I should have known. Of course, it was her. She wore a cream-colored dress that made her look innocent, virginal. Tears already glistened in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Father," she whispered, her voice breaking perfectly. "I did not want to say anything, but I cannot let Irene lie about this."

"Speak, child," Elder Garrett said gently.

Lyra dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I have seen Irene sneaking away from the pack grounds for months now. Always at night and always alone. I tried to warn her that it was dangerous, that it looked improper, but she would not listen." She turned those false tears on me. "I wanted to protect you, sister. But you have been so secretive."

"That's not true," I protested. "I have not been sneaking anywhere. Lyra, why are you lying?"

"Lying?" She looked wounded. "I saw you tonight, eager to slip away from the celebration. You could not wait to meet whoever marked you. And now you stand here, pretending you are some innocent victim?"

"Elder Garrett, please." I turned to him, desperate. "She is making this up. I do not even know who marked me. I never saw him before tonight—"

"A stranger then." My father's voice was ice. "You allowed a stranger to mark you. That is even worse."

"I did not allow anything!"

"Then how did it happen?" Elder Garrett leaned forward. "A mark requires closeness, Irene. Intimacy. You expect us to believe you were simply walking in the woods and were marked against your will?"

The way he said it made it sound absurd. It made me sound like a liar.

"The mark does not lie," another elder added. "It is a sacred bond between mates. It cannot be forced unless there is willingness on both sides."

But that was not true. I felt the bond snap into place, I felt the compulsion in it. Nothing about what happened was willing. But looking around the room at their skeptical faces, I realized the truth did not matter. They had already decided what they believed.

"I have more to confess," Lyra said softly. "I saw Irene talking with rogues last month. Near the eastern border."

My head snapped toward her. "What? That is a complete fabrication!"

"She offered them information about our patrol schedules. I think she has been working with outsiders for some time."

The room erupted. Elders shouted over each other. My father's face went purple with rage. I tried to defend myself, but my voice was drowned in the chaos.

"Enough!" My father's roar silenced everyone. He turned to me, and I had never seen such hatred in his eyes. "You are not just a disgrace. You are a traitor."

"I have done nothing wrong," I said, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.

"The hybrid blood," one elder muttered. "I always said it would corrupt her."

My father nodded slowly. "I should have dealt with this years ago. Your mother's tainted bloodline has poisoned you, made you weak and deceitful."

Something inside me cracked. "Do not speak about my mother."

"I will speak however I wish." He stepped closer, his wolf flashing in his eyes. "You have shamed everything she died trying to give you. A place in this pack. A family. And you threw it away for what? A mark from some stranger? Consorting with rogues?"

My healing ability pulsed beneath my skin, begging to be revealed. If I showed them what I could do, proved that I was valuable despite my hybrid nature, maybe they would listen. Maybe they would believe me.

But something held me back. An instinct deep in my gut that screamed this was my last advantage. My last secret. If I revealed it now, they would take this too.

"What is your judgment?" Elder Garrett asked my father.

My father did not hesitate. "Strip her of her hybrid wolf. Remove the taint from her bloodline. If she wishes to act like a common human, let her be one."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "No. Father, please—"

"You are not my daughter anymore."

"Garrett." A woman's voice, sharp and cold. The pack witch, Celeste, emerged from the corner where she had been waiting. "The ritual is prepared."

"No!" I lunged forward, but guards grabbed my arms. "You cannot do this. Please, I am telling the truth. I did not do anything wrong!"

Lyra stepped close, her tears miraculously dried. "This is for your own good, sister," she whispered, loud enough for the elders to hear. Then, so quietly only I could catch it, "He was supposed to mark me. But do not worry. I will make sure he never finds out it was you."

My eyes widened. She knew. Somehow, she knew who the stranger was.

"What are you talking about?" I hissed.

But Celeste was already chanting, her hands weaving symbols in the air that glowed with sick green light. The silver cords around my wrists burned hotter.

"Hold her," Celeste commanded.

The guards forced me to my knees. The witch's hands pressed against my temples, and pain exploded through my skull.

I screamed.

It felt like she was reaching inside me, grasping my hybrid wolf, and tearing her out piece by piece. My wolf howled in agony, fighting, clawing to stay connected to me. But the magic was too strong.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please stop."

No one listened.

My wolf's presence grew fainter, like a flame being smothered. I could feel her slipping away, feel part of my soul being ripped out and scattered.

The pain was indescribable. Worse than the marking and anything I had ever imagined.

As darkness crept into my vision, I heard Lyra's voice one last time, sweet as poison.

"Sleep well, dear sister."

Then everything went black.