LOGINThey shoved me into an iron cage and dragged me to the black market like I was nothing. Shackled. Filthy. Cursed. The wolf girl who killed her own mother. The one no pack wanted. The one destined to rot. I thought I’d die there, mocked and spit on, until he appeared. Ezekiel Thornclaw. Alpha heir of the Bloodfang Pack. Ruthless. Lethal. Terrifying. The moment his storm-gray eyes met mine, the world shifted. His breath hitched. His voice broke like a vow etched in fire: “Mate.” He didn’t flinch at the filth or the curse. He tore through my chains as if the world itself bowed to him. And when he claimed me, his words burned into my bones— “You’re mine now. And I’ll burn every pack to ash before I let them touch you.” But Ezekiel isn’t the only one who wants me. His half-brother Draven—the rebel with golden eyes and dangerous hands—offers me freedom instead of chains. And in the shadows waits Ravena, the witch-wolf who cursed my blood, determined to see me destroyed. From captive to Luna. From curse to crown. This is not a love story. This is survival.
View MoreSelara’s POV“Such a delicate little flame…” Ezekiel commented as he looked at me with those dark, lustful eyes as if I were his new toy rather than a slave. “Look at me, mouse. Show me your innocent, pretty face.”The iron chains clinked softly every time I shifted. They were a cruel reminder that though I was no longer rotting in that pit, I was still not free. Ezekiel had given me a room fit for royalty, but with shackles at the foot of the bed, it felt more like a gilded prison. The walls were draped in black velvet, the windows high and barred, and the scent of wolf musk lingered like incense—raw, dominant, feral.And him.He sat in the corner as if he owned the night itself, silver eyes glowing faintly under the flicker of a lone candelabra. His presence pressed against me harder than the iron around my ankles.I swallowed, the weight of his stare making my skin prickle. “Why?” My voice cracked, thin but sharp. “Why take me from that hell? Why not let me rot like the others?”Hi
Selara’s POVThe fortress of Bloodfang rose before me like the bones of some great beast, jagged and unyielding, its towers piercing the starless sky. Black stone glistened wet under the moonlight, and crimson banners hung like veins against its body, pulsing in the wind. Every howl that echoed across its battlements reverberated in my ribs, a hymn both reverent and damning.I sat stiff in the saddle of Ezekiel’s warhorse, my wrists raw from the ropes, my breath sharp in my lungs. Around us, wolves padded silently—some in fur, some in flesh—their eyes glowing amber and gold. They looked at me as though I were a stolen relic dragged into their temple. Some bowed their heads as Ezekiel rode past. Others pressed their hands to their chests, murmuring his name like a prayer.But none of them looked at me kindly.Their stares slid over my body with curiosity laced in contempt. They saw me as an intruder. Worse—as prey.And then I saw her again.Ravena.She stood on the stone steps that led
Selara’s POV“You belong to me.”The words had barely left Ezekiel’s lips before the marketplace exploded into chaos.The crowd screamed as his aura lashed out, thick and suffocating, like the air itself was bowing to him. Guards rushed forward, but they were nothing more than lambs flinging themselves into the jaws of a wolf.One lunged at him with a spear.Ezekiel didn’t even flinch. He caught the shaft mid-swing, snapped it like kindling, and drove the jagged wood straight into the guard’s throat. Blood sprayed across my iron bars, hot and metallic, painting me in crimson as the man gurgled and collapsed.The scent of it mixed with the already rank stench of sweat, fur, and desperation in the slave market. My stomach turned, but I couldn’t look away.Ezekiel’s gray eyes flicked back to me, and it felt like being struck by lightning. Cold and hot at once.The crowd backed away as he prowled forward, his shoulders loose, predatory, each step deliberate. He wasn’t rushing. He didn’t n
Selara’s POVThey shoved me into the cage like I was an animal.Iron groaned beneath me as my knees scraped the rusted bars, the cold biting into my bare skin. Chains clanked against my wrists, already rubbed raw from days—maybe weeks—of being dragged through mud and darkness. My hair, filthy and matted, hung across my face, sticking to my lips as the crowd roared with laughter.The black market stank of blood, sweat, and despair. The cries of other captives echoed around me—wolves broken and collared, witches gagged and shackled, even humans trembling in terror. But I wasn’t like them. I was worse.I was the cursed one.Whispers followed me like gnats, buzzing at every step of my miserable existence. She killed her own mother the moment she was born. She carries death in her veins. Bad luck even to touch.I’d heard it all. I’d lived it all. And now, I was displayed here like some cursed relic, shoved into an iron cage too small to sit up in fully, my filthy knees pressed to my chest.
Selara’s POV"Say it," Ezekiel growled against my throat, his voice rough as claws dragging over silk. "Say you’re mine."The command scraped down my spine, a dark brand searing into my soul. My lips parted, breath trembling as his hand tightened around my wrist, pinning me against the stone wall o












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