Chapter 1

Elena’s POV

“Don’t ask questions.”

My father did not raise his voice. My father's voice was low, tight in a way I had never heard before.

“Dad, what's going on?” I asked with worry.

“Not now.” He did not even spare a glance at me, he grabbed my little arm and began to move at a very fast pace. His grip tightened around my wrist. “Just keep moving.”

The streets blurred past us. People stepped aside when they saw him, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm. Whispers followed.

“You’re hurting me,” I said, my voice trembling in fear.

He slowed only enough to look down at me. The fear in his eyes stole the rest of my words. He immediately loosened his grip in realization.

“You stay beside me,” he said quietly.

Michael kept pace on my other side, silent, his jaw clenched.

I couldn’t help but ask “Dad is someone hurt?”

“Yes,” my father answered after a brief pause.

A bitter feeling filled my heart. “Who?”

“The clinic is close,” he said instead.

The scent of blood hit me before I saw the building ahead.

Michael followed suit without a word uttered. The tension was obvious and silence was deafening as it was gut-wrenching.

Earlier that day, the previously calm atmosphere suddenly changed as a woman was spotted stumbling out of the barrier. I later heard that she fell to the ground with a loud thud that could be heard from a distance. A passerby saw her and walked closer carefully, but the moment he recognized who she was, panic took over.

That woman was my mother.

The Luna of Lucratia.

It was just like every other day in the peaceful land of Lucratia. People chattered away, some minding their business and going about their everyday lives, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

Nothing felt out of place. Nothing felt wrong until that moment.

The man, on noticing, immediately raised an alarm and called for help from others around. People rushed toward her, fear spreading quickly. They gathered around her gently as she bled through her already soiled clothes. She held unto what looked like a small dagger which was pierced into her stomach.

They carried her carefully all the way to the small clinic owned by the royal family’s doctor.

The Alpha family was informed almost immediately.

My father, Theodore Armstrong, rushed to the clinic in panic and worry. When we got there, I followed behind him with my cousin, Michael, by my side. The moment my father stepped into the room where my mother was kept, he froze.

I walked in after him.

My mother lay there, pale and almost lifeless. This was the first time my mother ever appeared weak.

My father’s eyes reddened instantly. Tears filled them, threatening to spill as he stared at his wife. She looked like she did not have much left in her. Watching him break like that hurt almost as much as seeing her on the bed.

I slowly walked up to my mother, my legs shaking beneath me. Tears flowed continuously from my eyes as I gently held her hand. I was scared. I did not know what to do or what to say. I finally stopped in front of her, with Michael standing right beside me, his eyes reddened.

Her eyes fluttered weakly.

She looked at us gently and spoke in a hoarse voice filled with pain.

“Trust no one.”

I stared at her in shock. Before I could ask her what she meant, before I could even react, the heart rate monitor began to beep aggressively.

Doctor Mason rushed into the room immediately. The moment he heard the beeping, we were asked to leave the room.

Standing in the hallway, fear wrapped tightly around me. I felt like my heart was being squeezed painfully in my chest. Michael pulled me into his arms, trying his best to comfort me.

But my mind kept replaying her words.

Trust no one.

What did she mean by that?

While I was still lost in thought, Doctor Mason stepped out of the room. The look on his face said everything before he even spoke.

The Luna was dead.

My mother was gone.

My father’s whole world shattered in that single moment. He stood there stiffly, like he refused to accept the words he had just heard. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was thinking.

This could not be real.

But it was.

I stood there silently at first, then suddenly the tears came. They flowed uncontrollably as my chest began to hurt. Michael held me tightly as I cried into his arms. I could feel his own body trembling as he held me.

Nothing about this made sense.

My mother was one of the strongest wolves in the pack. It did not add up that she would die like this.

My father eventually forced himself to move. He had to be strong for the pack and for me. After a few moments, he left the clinic with some guards to meet with the elders and plan the funeral arrangements.

I was later escorted back home.

The day of the funeral came quickly.

As tradition demanded, all the rites of Lucratia were carried out accordingly. It was a sad and gloomy day. The atmosphere felt heavy, thick with grief. The women of Lucratia were present, they all stood wearing the ceremonial white gowns in honor of the late Luna. My mother’s body was covered in white cloth and bathed in moon water before the ceremony by the women of Lucratia.

When it was time for the final rites, I watched everything quietly, crying silently to myself. I knew this meant my mother would truly be laid to rest.

At noon rise, my father let out a loud howl filled with pain. The rest of the pack answered him, their voices echoing through the land.

The female guards gently laid my mother’s body into a shallow grave dug beneath the ancestral tree.

The grave was shallow so that, according to our beliefs, the roots of the tree could claim her body.

A stone was placed above it with the words carved clearly.

“Luna Nina Armstrong of Lucratia.”

The belief was simple. The wolf feeds the forest, and the forest feeds the pack.

I watched as my father walked toward the stone. Without hesitation, he slit his arm and let his blood drip onto it as he released the mating bond between them. My heart shattered all over again as I cried openly. I drank the moon water handed to me by the women of the pack, my hands shaking.

When everything was finally done, my father left to meet with the elders of Lucratia.

I remained where I was.

I stood there in silence, staring at the place where my mother was laid to rest. My eyes were bloodshot red from days of crying. The past few days had been hard on both my father and me.

Even though he tried to hide it, I could see the change in him. It looked like he had lost his spark.

Michael stood beside me quietly as he grieved in his own way.

Then someone approached us.

It was Doctor Mason.

He sighed softly and placed a hand on my head in sympathy. Before I could say anything, he reached into a hidden pocket in his cloak and pulled out a small dagger.

He handed it to me carefully, my small hands receiving it while I stood in shock.

It was silver coated, with a wooden handle. As I held it, I noticed a strange symbol carved into it.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice raspy from crying.

“This is what your mother gave me before she died,” he said gently. “She asked me to give this to you and pass along a message. She said the dagger would lead you to the truth about why she was killed, and that you must choose the right path.”

My breath caught.

Killed.

Various emotions flooded me at once. Shock. Bitterness. Anger.

My mother was murdered.

“Who did this to her?” I asked again, my voice shaking but filled with anger. “Did she tell you who?”

Doctor Mason looked at me with pity.

“That is all she told me,” he said. “I am sorry. I wish I knew more.”

Then he turned and walked away.

I stood there as tears filled my eyes again. My hands clenched tightly around the dagger.

That day, I made a silent vow.

Whoever was responsible for my mother’s death would pay.

I would find them.

I would bring them down, no matter the cost.

Beside me, Michael watched quietly. I knew without him saying a word that he had made a vow of his own.

He would protect me.

He would stay by my side.

Neither of us knew then that the vows we made that day would lead us straight to our doom.