Chapter 2

 Night of Change (Vera's POV)

“No!” I screamed, my eyes snapping open, heart pounding, expecting the rogue lair’s flames and Grandpa Gideon’s fading mind-link. 

Instead, Lana’s face hovered before me, her amber eyes wide with feigned concern, her hair braided like six years ago, before her betrayals. 

My wolf stirred, its growl wary as I scanned the bar—human chatter, stale beer, and rogue scents lingering. Neon lights pulsed across the dance floor. My body stiffened—this was the bar Lana took me to the night before my eighteenth birthday, claiming to celebrate my pack initiation. 

I glanced at my hands, expecting scars from silver chains. They were smooth, delicate. My breath hitched, the moon’s pull whispering in my blood. I’d been reborn, thrust back to where the tragedies began.

Lana pushed a glass of lemon water toward me, her voice sweet. “Vera, you look pale. Drink this, it’ll help.” I stared at the glass. My wolf snarled, a chill gripping me. Six years ago, I trusted her, drinking that water, before blacking out. 

I vaguely recalled being dragged by rogue wolves to a filthy alley, my clothes torn, cameras flashing as they staged those photos that ruined me. 

I’d been naive, and too trusting to suspect that Lana spiked my drink. I even agreed to her tearful pleas to hide our bar visit from Grandpa Gideon.

Memories flooded—photos at my coming-of-age, rumors branding me a disgrace with no one believing my innocence, my parents’ fatal crash, my rift with Grandpa, three years of torture in the rogue lair, and Gideon’s poisoned body consumed by flames. 

My wolf’s claws scraped my soul, hatred burning. This second chance, gifted by the moon goddess, was my weapon. I’d never repeat those mistakes.

“I’m cold, Lana,” I said softly. “Can you grab a shawl?” Her eyes flashed impatience, but she set down the glass and left. My wolf’s senses sharpened as I switched her water with mine, my movements quick in the bar’s chaos. She returned, draping the shawl over me with fake care. 

“Better?” she asked, her eyes glinting. I smiled, hiding my rage. 

“Thanks, Lana. You’re always so good to me.” I raised my glass. “Toast? Water instead of wine.” 

Eager, she clinked her glass against mine. “Best sisters for life,” she said, gulping the spiked water. I sipped mine slowly, my wolf purring with victory.

Lana stared at me, her eyes alight with the thrill of her scheme succeeding. I met her gaze, my lips curving into a smile. The bar’s colorful lights danced across my face, and for a moment, I could see the wheel spinning behind her eyes. 

Lana froze, her wolf obviously sensing something off.

Eerie? No—she shook it off, seeing only the naive, sweet Vera she’d always manipulated. My wolf bared its teeth within me, savoring the irony. The trap was set.

Before long she swayed starting to feel the effects of whatever she added to the water, shaking her head like she was trying to get something off her head. “Are you okay?” I asked as my wolf growled with victory.

“I'm…” she mumbled, collapsing onto the table drugged before she could finish her sentence, dozing off at once.

I quickly got up and left, hiding in a dark corner, watching to know exactly what happened to me that night.

I didn't have to wait long as heavy rain poured outside and several rogue wolves came in. The moment they spotted Lana, they grabbed her. Carrying her limp form, into the filthy back alley behind the bar.

I followed, pulling my baseball cap lower to  hide my face, my wolf’s senses sharp and on the lookout. 

These were her hired rogues, the ones who’d staged my photos to break me. Back then, Lana spared me worse to gain my trust, standing by me as the pack shunned me. Nausea hit, my wolf snarling at my past blindness. 

I approached the lead rogue, his scent reeking of greed, and handed him a note. “Change of plans,” I said coldly. “Do whatever you want to her, as long as she lives. No photos—film a video, send it to this email.” Lana’s pain had to double mine, now that I knew she was behind all the evil things that happened to my family. His grin turned vile, and I walked away, my wolf’s growl steady.

The rogues’ chatter faded in the rain, neon lights stretching my shadow against the alley wall, dark and twisted. A devil? Maybe. I was a vengeful ghost, reborn to claim justice. 

This was just the start. As I neared the alley’s exit, my wolf’s senses flared, danger prickling my skin. Before I could react, large hands yanked me into a narrow gap between buildings. Pinned me against a rough wall, one hand pressing me back, another covered my mouth. 

The stranger’s heat and scent—pine and male—flooded me, stirring my wolf with a primal pull. My heart raced, confusion battling instinct.

Rogues cursed outside, their footsteps splashing as they searched. The man’s gaze flicked to the gap, his blue eyes glowing, predatory. 

Those bastards had no loyalty, likely planning to grab me too. A flashlight beam swept over us, and in the clash of light and shadow, I saw his face—sharp jaw, black hair damp with rain, eyes piercing like silver. 

My wolf stilled, recognition hitting like a bolt. I’d seen him once in my past life, at a pack summit, his ruthless bid for our territory earning my distrust. 

Yet his face haunted me, too striking to forget. Gabriel Black, alpha of the Nightmoor pack.