Chapter Two

I wake in the forest, my body on fire from the severed bond.Every breath is a struggle to keep living.

The pain is everywhere. I bite my lip to feel something other than that devastating pain but nothing changes. Cold seeps through my torn dress and into my bones.

The bond. The rejection. It all comes flooding back in a rush of humiliation that makes me want to end it right there.

I try to sit up and immediately regret it. A sharp pain shoots through my chest where the bond was ripped away, and I fall back with a strangled cry. My throat is raw, and I realize I must have been screaming. The metallic taste of blood coats my mouth.

How long have I been here? The last thing I remember is the pack's cruel laughter echoing in my ears. Someone must have dragged my unconscious body out here and left me to die like roadkill.

The thought doesn’t hurt as much as I think it should. What’s worse than your mate rejecting you anyway?

I force myself to focus. My dress is torn and stained with blood. My arms and legs are scraped raw from being dragged through the forest. The pain still shoots through out my entire body and I stumble to the ground.

This is dying,realization came with clarity. This is probably how it feels to be dying.

I manage to push myself up onto my elbows, such a simple motion leaves me gasping for air. My vision swims, the world is spinning, but I force myself to stay conscious. If I’m going to die out here, which I probably will, then I will be dying on my own terms.

I hear water trickling ahead and I stumble ahead to the stream promising relief for my parched throat. Crawling towards the sound is pure agony, dragging myself across the forest floor inch by painful inch. Pine needles stick to my palms, and rocks dig into my knees, but the physical pain is acceptable. It’s way better, distracting me from the agony in my soul.

I'm halfway to the water when I smell them.

Musk. Sweat. The wild, uncontrolled scent of rogues.

I freeze where I am, holding my breath and  pressed flat against the earth, hoping desperately that they haven't caught my scent yet. But it's too late. Through the trees, I hear the sounds of footsteps and the rustle of branches being moved aside.

They emerge from the shadows, three of them, all male. They were scarier than the wolfs in the pack house. At least I know they could hurt me but I know they wouldn’t really kill me. These rogues are different. They don’t care whether I live or die. The only thing that matters to them is their own pleasure.Their clothes are tattered, their hair matted with dirt and worse things. But their eyes fill me with terror; wild, yellow and unrestrained.

The largest one, a brute with scars crisscrossing his face, tilts his head and inhales deeply. His lip curls in disgust.

"Human," he spits, the word dripping with contempt. "No wolf scent on you at all. Disgusting human trash."

His hatred is palpable, radiating off his huge body. These rogues despise humans with a violence that goes rationality.

I want to tell him he's wrong, that I'm a wolf just like them, but the words die in my throat. They're not wrong, are they? I can't shift. I have no wolf to speak of. There is no difference between me and a regular human.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I'm not… I don’t…"

"Shut up," another one snarls. This one is leaner, with scanty brown hair and yellow teeth. "You think you can just wander into territory? You think we'll let you live to tell the packs where to find us?"

The third one laughs, and I know they hae no intention of letting me go. "Look at her. She's already half-dead anyway. Probably won't take much to finish the job."

Terror floods through me,just when I thought I was surviving, these are like iced water, pulling me back to my harsh reality. I try to scramble backward, but my body won't obey. The rejection pain has left me weak as a newborn, and these wolves, these monsters can smell the helplessness on me like a shark smells blood.

"Wait," the scarred one says, holding up a hand, a predatory smile plastered on his face. "Why rush? It's been a long time since we've had any... entertainment."

My eyes go white with fear. I know what he mean and I would rather they just kill me than that. "No," I breathe, shaking my head desperately. "Please, no."

But they're already moving closer, circling me like the predators they are. The lean one grabs my arm, not caring that his claw had dug into my skin, drawing blood.

"Pretty little thing," he mummered, his smelly breath hot against my face. "What's your name, human? I like to know what to call my toys."

I try to fight, but I might as well be trying to move a mountain. The bond rejection has left me weaker than I've ever been, and even if it hadn’t, I still will not be able to put up a fight agaisnt three fully grown wolfs. My struggle is just like a side show before the main meal for them.

What follows is brutality I'll carry with me forever. They're methodical about it, these monsters. Careful to make sure it hurts as much as it possibly can. They savor my pain, my terror, my helplessness.

I stop screaming after the first few minutes. There's no point. We're miles from civilization, and who would come for me anyway? I'm nothing. Nobody.

So I retreat inside myself, to a small, dark and lonely place where their dirty hands can’t reach.

By the time they finish, I can barely think through the haze of pain and shock. My dress hangs in tatters. Blood stains the forest floor beneath me.

"Should we kill her now?" the lean one asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The scarred leader shrugs. "Why bother? She'll be dead by morning anyway. Let the scavengers have her."

They disappear back into the shadows as silently as they came, leaving me even more broken and bleeding on the forest floor. I lie there for a long time, staring up at the stars through the thick canopy of leaves, waiting for death to take me.

This is what I deserve, I think numbly. Maybe Darius was right. Maybe I really am nothing.

The cold seeps deeper into my bones. My vision starts to blur at the edges, darkness creeping in. It felt peaceful. At least it will be over soon. At least I won't have to face another day of being the pack's joke, the broken girl who couldn't even keep her mate.

I close my eyes and let the darkness take me. My last thought is that maybe Darius was right. Maybe I really am nothing.

As my consciousness fade, a voice whispers through my mind. It sounded ancient, powerful, silver-sweet. "Not yet, daughter of the moon. Your time has not come." My weak eyes flutter open to see a figure made of starlight standing over me, and for the first time in my life, I feel... chosen.