Chapter 2

Inside were everything. The ancient scrolls I’d painstakingly transcribed in ink mixed with my own blood. The charm-bundles of wolfsbane and moon-blessed silver thread. Three years of my life, of my essence, keeping Death from Leon’s door.

I didn’t think. I just ran toward the flames.

The fire roared to meet me. It licked up my arm, searing through the simple dress. The skin blistered and sloughed away, revealing raw, glistening flesh beneath. A tear tracked through the soot and landed on the exposed wound. The pain was so sharp, so clean, it stole my breath.

“Well, look at that. The mighty White Wolf heiress can burn.”

Leon’s voice came from behind me. He stood there, Selene tucked against his side. His gaze raked over my ruined arm, and a smirk twisted his handsome face.

“I thought you practiced black magic. Doesn’t black magic stop you from feeling pain?”

“Leon, how could you?” My voice was a rasp. “Those scrolls… without them, you’d have been dead a year ago!”

“Shut up!”

He was on me in a flash, his hand closing around my throat, slamming me back against the hot wall. His eyes were golden with his wolf’s fury.

“Don’t you dare talk about your filthy witchcraft in front of me! It makes me sick!”

“I’m not just burning it. I’m making sure the whole Pack sees you for what you are.”

Before I could process his words, the narrow hallway filled with bodies. Dozens of them. Pack members. Warriors, elders, curious Omegas. Their eyes held no mercy, only a hungry glee.

“Is it true?” a burly warrior snarled, his snout partially formed. “You’ve been draining the Alpha’s strength with your tricks? Stealing Pack resources?”

“She’s a bloodline leech! A fraud!” a she-wolf shrieked.

“She tried to trap our Alpha! She doesn’t deserve a trial, she deserves a silver cage!”

The she-wolf who’d yelled lunged. Her claws—still human, but sharp—dug into the burnt flesh of my arm.

I screamed. The world dissolved into white-hot agony. I slid down the wall, a broken heap on the floor.

The kicks and blows came then. Not from everyone, but from enough. A heavy boot to the ribs. A slap that snapped my head back.

Through a haze of pain, I saw Leon smile. He leaned down and kissed Selene, deeply, possessively, right there in the smoke and the violence. Then he led her away, laughter trailing behind them.

That night, the judgment was formal.

I was dragged before the Pack Council in the great stone lodge. My burnt, torn dress was my only clothing. The Head Elder, a grim-faced wolf with silver in his beard, spoke, and his voice echoed to the rafters.

“Elara of the hidden White Wolf line. You stand accused of fraudulent claim, of weakening your sworn Alpha with false rites, and of blasphemy against the Moon’s true design. Your ‘healing’ is a poison. Your bloodline is a myth.”

The crowd roared its agreement. I saw Liana in the front row, her face pale, her eyes on the floor.

“The Alpha’s true mate, Selene, versed in the Coven’s arts, has proven his vitality. Your lies are exposed. On the eve of the Alpha’s thirtieth year, you will be held for the Moon’s judgment. If your blood is not pure… you will be offered to cleanse the insult.”

They meant as a sacrifice. A scapegoat.

I was cast out of the lodge, reduced to Omega status. No den, no protection, no rights.

I stumbled through the cold woods, the remnants of my dress catching on thorns. I needed shelter, clothes. I made my way to a low-town trading post that sometimes housed rogue wolves.

The female at the counter took one look at my face, my wounds, and spat a glob of phlegm that hit my chest.

“Get out, you cursed thing. We don’t want your black magic here.”

My body burned with fever. My wounds wept a foul-smelling pus. Hunger was a sharp knot in my belly. I stumbled into an alley behind the trash bins and collapsed.

Some who passed recognized me. A rotten apple thudded against my temple. Someone emptied a bucket of greasy water over my legs, the filth soaking into my open burns.

I thought of my family’s distant, quiet mountains. I thought of Old Grey, the Omega servant who’d raised me after my mother died.

But I couldn’t go back.

Tomorrow was Leon’s birthday.

When he’d choked me, I’d felt it—the wild, frantic stumble of his life-force beneath my fingers. The curse wasn’t satisfied. It was waiting.

I had to see it.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to push myself up against the cold brick wall.

My vision tunneled to black, and I knew no more.