CHAPTER THREE

Morning light flickered through the curtains—uninvited, blinding.

I sat at the edge of the bed, body sore, but the pain had dulled.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” I muttered, pushing up and heading to the bathroom. One glance in the mirror made my stomach twist—pale, disheveled, hollow-eyed.

I stepped into the shower, letting the water scorch my skin.

But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t wash away their faces.

My brother’s cold voice.

My sister’s emotionless stare.

The betrayal.

The weight of it clawed at me.

I wasn’t raised with love—not from them, not from my father either. To them, I was a mistake. A stain. A curse.

Only my mother had ever shown me kindness.

And even that vanished when I turned ten.

She changed overnight. The warmth in her eyes turned to ash. One day she told me I was powerful. The next, she said she regretted birthing me.

I wrapped the towel around me, trembling.

Why?

I dressed in the same sweatshirt I’d woken up in. The walls felt closer now, suffocating. I needed out.

The hallway was silent. Paintings lined the walls—landscapes, wolves, warriors. Beautiful. Intimidating. A life I didn’t belong in.

I wandered until the corridor curved into a wider hall. One door stood slightly ajar.

Curiosity won.

A library.

Shelves stretched to the ceiling, heavy with ancient tomes. The scent of old books and pine lingered like memory. The fireplace was cold, but something about the room was alive.

Drawn by instinct, I moved toward a mahogany desk in the corner.

Dust. Scattered papers. And one worn journal, left open.

I hesitated—then grabbed it.

One sentence caught my eye:

“Serena was born under blood and suspicion… just like her mother.”

My grip tightened.

I sat down and turned the page.

Flashback

“You must never speak of it,” my mother whispered, tucking me in.

Her hands trembled. Her voice didn’t.

“Of what?” I asked, barely ten, already broken.

“The night you were born. The things they say. The lies they believed.”

“What lies?”

“That you were cursed.”

I blinked through tears. She wiped them gently, kissed my forehead, and whispered,

“You’re not cursed, my little diamond. You’re powerful. That’s why they fear you.”

I remembered that night clearly. The way she shook. The fear in her eyes.

And then, the shift.

The day she turned cold. Called me cursed. Rejected me like the rest of them.

I flipped the page.

“The elder council fears the prophecy. A she-wolf born beneath a crimson moon will bring fire to her bloodline, purging it of rot.”

My breath caught.

The moon was red the night I was born.

My heart pounded in my chest.

They didn’t plan to raise me. They planned to erase me.

A growl rose in my throat, bitter and raw.

I clutched the journal, fury simmering beneath my skin—

Then the door creaked.

I spun, claws ready.

Kael.

Of course.

He stepped inside, his gaze locked on mine.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

I held up the journal. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave your secrets lying around.”

He frowned. “That book’s not mine.”

I blinked. “What?”

He took it carefully, eyes scanning the page. “This is from the old pack archives… I didn’t know it was here.”

“So you didn’t know about me?”

His gaze lifted slowly. “No. But I’m starting to understand.”

I stepped back. “Understand what?”

“That you’re not just a banished she-wolf.” His voice was low. “You were betrayed long before your exile.”

I laughed bitterly. “Congratulations, Alpha. You figured it out.”

He stepped closer, cautious. “Serena, there’s more to this than you know. Prophecies like this don’t end quietly. They explode.”

“I’m not a prophecy,” I snapped. “I’m just a girl who lost everything.”

“No,” he said. “You’re a girl who was taken from everything.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

His eyes flicked to my lips again.

And I hated that I didn’t hate it.

My wolf stirred. Confused. Drawn. I didn’t know what to do with him.

I wasn’t ready to trust. But I wasn’t ready to run either.

“You can’t fix this,” I said. “Whatever you think you’re doing—it won’t make it okay.”

“I know,” he said. “But I can give you something your pack never did.”

I stared. “What? More lies?”

He leaned in, his voice a whisper of fire and smoke.

“The truth.”

My breath caught. “Then start talking.”

He didn’t blink. “Tomorrow night. Full moon. I’ll take you to someone who knows what happened the night you were born.”

“Why wait?”

“Because…” he backed away, eyes unreadable.

“Some truths are too dangerous to speak in daylight.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood alone in the library, the journal burning in my hands.

My chest was heavy. My mind was racing. My world, once already shattered, now stood on the edge of something much bigger.

They feared the prophecy.

They feared me.

And now, for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I feared myself too.

Tomorrow, everything could change.