Chapter 3

Lysera

Footsteps thundered through the trees. Voices shouted Isyra’s name. Torches flared between branches, and the scent of other wolves filled the air.

I couldn’t move.

I stood frozen in shock, still in my wolf form, my paws planted into the soil like I had been molded to that spot.

This couldn’t be happening.

“ISYRA!”

The first set of people burst into the clearing, followed by more pack members in their wolf forms. And among them was my father.

He didn’t even pause to ask questions. His eyes snapped to Isyra on the ground, to the blood smeared on her skirt, and then to me who was still in my wolf form.

His face twisted with rage and before I could step back, before I could even process what was happening, my father lunged.

His claws collided with my side, knocking me off balance. Pain exploded through my ribs as I slammed into the ground. My wolf yelped, instinct screaming at me to defend myself, to fight back, to bite but I didn’t.

I couldn’t. My father was a very strong warrior. If I fought back it would provoke him into shifting and he would rip me to shreds.

I curled into myself, my belly pressed to the earth, ears pinned flat as he attacked again. His paws struck hard, his claws raking into my fur. The blows came fast and mercilessly, like he was trying to beat the life out of me.

No one stopped him. The pack stood around us, watching. Some with anger, some with disgust and others with satisfaction. They thought I was getting what I deserved.

Isyra’s sobs grew louder the moment she saw them, like she had been waiting for her audience.

“She attacked me!” she screamed, clutching her stomach as if she was protecting a child that didn’t exist. “Lysera attacked me!”

Gasps tore through the clearing. Growls rumbled through the wolves surrounding us.

“No—” I tried to move, tried to shake my head, tried to tell them it wasn’t true, but I was still a wolf. All that came out was a broken bark.

“She was jealous!” Isyra continued, her voice shaking perfectly, tears spilling like she was the victim of a tragedy. She clung to my mother as soon as she reached her. “I stepped out to be with her! I wanted to… to share her happiness because she finally got her wolf. I wanted to be a good sister!”

Her lie was so believable she was painting herself as kind.

“But she got angry,” Isyra cried, voice cracking. “She said I always take everything from her. She blamed me for having everyone’s attention. She blamed me for stealing Henry!”

“Oh dear goddess,” my mother cried.

“And when the moon rose… when she shifted…” Isyra sobbed harder, trembling like she was broken. “She attacked me. She tried to kill me!”

The pack’s fury rose like wildfire. Wolves snarled, pacing, waiting for someone—anyone—to give the command to finish me off.

My father struck again, harder this time. My wolf whined, body trembling, and I curled tighter, trying to protect my throat and my stomach. Trying to make myself smaller, harmless, invisible.

But nothing I did mattered.

The crowd shifted, parting as Alpha Henry pushed through.

He stood over a head taller than everybody and he looked every inch the alpha as pack members moved back with bared necks.

His eyes were darker than the night itself, burning with rage as they landed first on Isyra, then on the blood, then on me—

“Enough.” Henry told my father.

My father froze mid-strike, but because he wanted to.

My father’s chest heaved with anger, but he slowly stepped back, eyes still blazing as if he hadn’t gotten to punish me enough.

Henry stared down at me for a long second. There was no pity or softness in his eyes. There was only disgust and fury.

“Guards,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Surround her.”

The guards moved instantly, forming a tight circle around me until there was no means of escape.

I tried to lift my head and explain that it wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t do what Isyra was accusing me of, but I was still a wolf.

“Shift,” Henry commanded.

The word was packed with powers.

Alpha authority crashed into my body, ripping through my wolf’s resistance. She howled inside me, claws digging into the soil, trying to hold on—

But I couldn’t fight it.

Pain tore through me as bones snapped and reshaped. Fur disappeared and my paws became hands. My breath tore out of my lungs as I fell onto the cold earth—

Naked.

The cool air hit my skin and moonlight washed over me, exposing everything, and I folded into myself instantly, arms wrapping around my chest, knees pulled tight to my stomach.

Nudity was normal during runs. But this wasn’t a run.

This was humiliation.

Dozens of eyes stared at me with hatred and hostility, like I was filth. Tears burned behind my eyes. My throat tightened until I could barely breathe.

I looked up through trembling lashes. My gaze found Isyra.

She was in my mother’s arms, sobbing softly, trembling like a wounded bird. Her face was turned slightly, hidden from everyone else but not from me.

And when she saw I was looking, her lips curved into the faintest smile.

Then she buried her face again and continued wailing, louder than ever.

Henry’s footsteps crunched as he moved closer. His shadow fell over my naked form, and I shrank into myself, arms clutched to my chest, humiliation burning my face.

Then the air shifted and what I was feeling was not linger fear. It was a strange pressure that made my wolf stir beneath my skin.

Henry froze and so did I.

My breath caught as something deep inside me reached for him like it had been waiting my whole life.

A white light flared at my neck—bright and searing—and the same light ignited on Henry’s. A thin glowing beam linked us, binding us.

Then the whole pack gasped.

“Mates…”

Henry’s eyes widened in shock. Mine did too but before anyone could speak, Isyra screamed.

“AHHH!”

She collapsed, clutching her stomach, writhing like she was in agony. “My baby! Henry—it hurts!”

Everyone was thrown into panic and the pack surged toward her.

“Call the healer!”

“She’s losing the baby!”

“She’s bleeding!”

My mother began to wail and my father rushed to pick Isyra up but he was looking at me and screaming that Isyra better be fine or he would kill me.

Henry’s attention remained on me as he watched me with furrowed brows but then someone tapped him and he tore his attention away and rushed to gather Isyra in his arms.

Just as he was about to carry her off, he turned to face me.

“Lock her up,” he told her guards, “and make sure she does not escape.”

Then he turned, and I watched as my mate walked away with my sister in his arms.