The Night Everything Burned

The silver chains bit into my wrists until blood dripped onto the stone floor of the judgment hall.

I did not cry. Not anymore.

Crying only made Alpha Theron hit harder.

"Eighteen years," he snarled, circling me. "We fed you. Sheltered you. Waited for your wolf."

The pack surrounded us, eyes glowing amber. Hungry. Eager.

I knew that look. I had seen it every day of my pathetic life.

"And what do we get in return?" Theron grabbed my hair, yanking my head back until my neck was exposed. His claws pressed against my throat. "Nothing. You are broken, Kaia. Worthless. A stain on our bloodline."

"Please," I whispered. The word tasted like ash. "Give me more time. My wolf will come, I know it will—"

His backhand split my lip.

I hit the ground hard. The chains rattled. Blood filled my mouth.

"Your mother said the same thing before we killed her." Theron crouched beside me, his breath hot against my ear. "She begged too. It changed nothing."

Pain exploded through my ribs as his boot connected. Once. Twice. Three times.

The pack laughed.

They always laughed.

"Exile her," Theron announced, straightening. "Strip her of her name, her rank, her pack bonds. Let the humans have her."

"No!" The scream tore from my throat. "You cannot—exile is a death sentence—"

"Then die quietly." He turned his back on me. "You have until dawn to leave Silver Moon territory. If you are still here when the sun rises, we will hunt you for sport."

The chains released.

I collapsed, gasping.

Two warriors dragged me outside and threw me into the mud beyond the pack house. Rain poured from the black sky, washing blood from my face.

"Run, little reject," one of them said. "Run fast."

They disappeared into the darkness.

I lay there, broken and bleeding, listening to the thunder.

This was how I would die. Alone. Unwanted.

Just like my mother.

I did not know how long I had been running.

The forest blurred around me—trees, shadows, and rain. My bare feet were shredded. My ribs screamed with every breath. But I did not stop.

Could not stop.

Because something was following me.

Not the Silver Moon warriors. They would have caught me by now, would have made it quick.

This was something else.

Something worse.

The trees opened into a clearing, and I stumbled to a halt.

A man stood in the center, waiting.

He was massive—easily six and a half feet of solid muscle wrapped in black leather and menace. Dark hair fell across eyes that gleamed like molten silver in the moonlight. Power radiated from him in waves that made my knees buckle.

An Alpha.

But not from any pack I knew.

"Kaia." His voice was gravel and smoke, rolling through me like thunder. "The last of the Shadowborn line."

Ice flooded my veins.

No one had called me that in years. That name was forbidden. Erased.

"I do not know what you are talking about," I said, backing away. "You have the wrong person"

He moved.

One moment, he was across the clearing. Next, his hand was around my throat, lifting me off the ground.

"Do not insult me with lies," he growled. His grip tightened. "I can smell it on you. The old blood. The chaos magic your ancestors nearly drowned the world in."

I clawed at his hand, gasping. "Please—I cannot breathe—"

"Good." His eyes were merciless. "You should have died with the rest of your cursed bloodline. But your mother hid you. Convinced Theron to raise you as his own, keep you weak and powerless so you would never awaken."

My vision was darkening. Stars burst behind my eyes.

"Too bad for him," the Alpha continued, "prophecies do not care about pack politics. The Awakening has begun, little Shadowborn. And I am here to make sure it ends with your death."

Something inside me snapped.

Heat exploded through my chest—white-hot and furious. The air around us crackled with energy that smelled like ozone and burning metal.

The Alpha's eyes widened.

He dropped me.

I hit the ground gasping, and the power surged through me again, stronger this time. Uncontrollable. My skin glowed with silver light, turning the rain to steam.

"Impossible," he breathed. "You have not shifted. The Awakening should not have started yet—"

The light burst outward in a shockwave that threw him backward twenty feet.

Trees splintered. The earth shook.

And then it was gone.

I collapsed, shaking, staring at my hands. They looked normal. But I could still feel it—something vast and terrible coiled inside me, waiting.

The Alpha rose slowly, brushing dirt from his jacket. Blood trickled from a cut above his eye. He was staring at me like I was a bomb that had just failed to detonate.

"What the hell are you?" I whispered.

"Draven Blackthorne." He stalked toward me, and this time there was something different in his eyes. Not just hatred. Something darker. Hungrier. "Alpha of the Blood Moon pack. And the man who has spent his entire life preparing to kill you."

He stopped inches away, looking down at me.

"But it seems," he said softly, dangerously, "that killing you just became significantly more complicated."

His hand shot out, gripping my jaw. His thumb traced my lower lip, smearing blood.

"Tell me, little Shadowborn," he murmured, his voice dropping to something that made my stomach clench. "Do you know what the prophecy says?"

I could not breathe. Could not think. His touch burned like fire and ice.

"It says the last daughter of shadow will awaken when blood and moon collide," Draven continued. His fingers tightened. "It says she will either save our kind from extinction... or she will drown us all in darkness."

He leaned closer. His breath ghosted across my lips.

"And it says," he whispered, "that I am the only one who can either stop you... or complete you."

Horror and something else—something hot and forbidden—twisted through me.

"What does that mean?"

His smile was wicked. Possessive.

"It means, Kaia, that you and I are bound by fate. By blood. By prophecy." His grip shifted to my throat, not choking, but claiming. "You are mine now. Your power, your life, your Awakening all of it is mine to control."

"I belong to no one," I spat.

He laughed—a dark, dangerous sound.

"We will see."

Then he pulled something from his pocket—a silver collar etched with runes that glowed red in the darkness.

My eyes widened. "No—"

Draven snapped it around my neck before I could move.

The metal burned like acid. I screamed, clawing at it, but the collar would not budge. The runes flared brighter, and I felt something lock into place—a binding that went deeper than flesh, sinking into the power coiled inside me.

Choking it.

Trapping it.

"That," Draven said, watching me writhe, "is a Shadowbane collar. Forged specifically to contain your kind. As long as you wear it, your power is mine to command. You are mine to command."

"I will kill you," I gasped. "I swear—"

"No, little Shadowborn." He hauled me to my feet, his hand iron around my arm. "You will do exactly as I say. Because if you do not, that collar will burn through your throat and stop your heart."

He dragged me toward the trees.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, struggling.

Draven glanced back, and the look in his eyes made my blood run cold.

"Home," he said. "To Blood Moon territory. Where you will learn exactly what it means to be the last of your cursed bloodline."

Thunder cracked overhead.

And as he pulled me into the darkness, one thought burned through my mind:

I had escaped Silver Moon only to fall into the hands of something far, far worse.