Nothing Without Us

I never thought I would be the one saving Ashen Vale.

If anyone had asked me yesterday, I would have said, 'Let it burn.'

Let it all burn—especially after the way their Beta treated me and the way their Alpha spoke to me.

But fire doesn’t ask who deserves to live.

And unlike their Alphas, I don’t rank lives. I don’t weigh a soul and decide if it’s worth oxygen.

I definitely don’t choose who gets to live based on whether they can breed.

The memory of Kei’s voice—so calm, so certain—makes my stomach twist.

Save the male pups first.

Then the fertile women.

As if the rest are animals past expiration.

So if a woman can’t bear children, she burns?

If she’s too old? Too young? Too broken? Just a girl—weak and inconvenient?

She just… dies?

Disgust floods me so fast it nearly chokes me.

And the worst part?

He says it like it’s normal. Like that’s simply how things are done.

For a fleeting second, I almost believe he is different.

But at the end of the day, he isn’t. He still sees the world through that same narrow, male, power-drunk lens.

The realization hurts more than it should.

The only reason he releases me is for his own selfish motives. He believes I could never stop the flames. That’s why he accepts my offer—so he can mark me, claim me, forcefully if necessary.

He even warns me not to go back on my word.

I scoff inwardly.

He’s still an asshole.

Just… a slightly upgraded version.

The flames rage around me, but I barely feel the heat. Because I am not cuffed anymore.

My magic isn’t crawling beneath my skin—it’s flowing. Surging.

The power inside me isn’t strangled. It’s unleashed.

Wild. Unfiltered.

My body feels too small to contain it, as if my skin might split open and spill lightning.

My wolf is no longer quiet.

She is fully awake. Her presence wraps around me like a second spine.

And deep down, one truth settles into my bones:

It would be better for everyone to die than to live in a world where worth is measured by gender.

Better ashes than hierarchy.

Better silence than selection.

The fire bends around me as I move through it.

It doesn’t touch me.

It doesn’t burn me.

It almost… bows.

A woman stumbles out of a house, coughing, dragging two children behind her. No one rushes to help her because she isn’t considered “valuable.”

My hands curl into fists.

Maybe this is why I was given this power.

A woman. Not a man.

Something that has never happened before.

Maybe the prophecy knew.

Not another Alpha who measures life in bloodlines and heirs.

A ruler who has bled as a woman would never measure life by gender.

A woman who knows what it feels like to be dismissed would never dismiss others.

Overlooked.

Caged.

If I become king—

There will be no ranking.

No “valuable wombs.”

No disposable daughters.

They will learn, all of them.

I will make every man who thinks women are expendable understand one thing:

They are nothing without us.

The sky rumbles faintly above, as if in agreement. Dark clouds swirl overhead, remnants of the storm I called earlier.

I did that.

Me.

I command the sky.

I pause, staring upward in disbelief.

Inside my head, my wolf stirs.

Her voice is no longer instinct or emotion.

It is language.

Ancient.

“Δεν είναι ούτε το μισό.”

The words echo in my mind, smooth and powerful.

“What?” I breathe.

“It isn’t even half,” she translates softly. “This isn’t even half of what we can do.”

I swallow. “What more can we do? Do you know?”

A pulse of silver energy flickers beneath my skin.

“Can’t you feel it?” she says. “We haven’t even opened the door yet.”

I am about to ask what door—

A baby cries. Sharp. Weak. Distant.

My head snaps toward the sound.

Through smoke, splintering wood, and layers of chaos, I hear it—clearer than everything else—thanks to my enhanced hearing.

I lock onto it.

“There,” I whisper.

Without thinking, I run.

Someone shouts behind me. I ignore them.

The building is half-collapsed, flames licking at the doorway like hungry tongues. I don’t slow down. The heat bends away from me as I step inside, as if uncertain whether it is allowed to touch me.

In the far corner, a woman lies curled around something. Her body is blistered. Half-conscious.

She has wrapped herself completely over the baby, shielding him with her back.

I drop beside her. “Hey. Hey—look at me.”

Her eyes flutter open, glazed with pain as she looks up at me through tears.

“Please,” she rasps, pushing the baby toward me with trembling hands. “Just save my son. Leave me.”

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m saving both of you.”

She shakes her head weakly. “My husband—he’ll—if anything happens to him—”

“I don’t care about your husband,” I snap. “I care about you. Trust me.”

Something in my voice convinces her.

She nods faintly.

I lift them both—one arm beneath her, the other securing the baby against my chest. Power flows through me instinctively.

The fire recoils as if struck, parting just enough for me to walk through. When I step outside, the air feels cooler.

People stare as the baby wails and the woman coughs weakly in my arms before I gently lower her to the ground.

Then a man shoves through the crowd.

“My son!” he shouts.

He doesn’t look at his wife. Not once.

He snatches the baby from my arms, clutching him possessively.

“You useless woman!” he snarls at her, not even noticing her burns. “You couldn’t even protect him properly! If something had happened to him—my only legacy—I would’ve killed you with my bare hands!”

The crowd falls silent, and the woman’s face crumples.

Something inside me snaps. Heat surges up my spine before I consciously command it.

The ground beneath the man’s boots ignites. Flames coil around his legs, and he screams.

And in his panic—

He throws the baby.

The world slows as gasps ripple through the crowd. I move before thought can catch up.

I catch the baby midair.

The fire vanishes instantly and the man falls backward, scrambling away, slapping at his pants even though they are no longer burning.

Silence falls like a blade.

I cradle the baby securely against me and look at him.

“You threw him,” I say softly.

His mouth opens.

No sound comes out.

“You threw the child you claim is your legacy.”

Now the crowd’s eyes are on him.

All of them.

“You threatened to kill the woman who shielded him with her body,” I continue, my voice calm but razor-sharp. “She burns for him. She nearly dies for him.”

The woman lies weakly on the ground, staring at her husband in disbelief.

“You cannot even protect him from a spark,” I say, stepping closer. “And yet you question her worth?”

His face flushes red.

“Say it again,” I challenge. “Call her useless. Go on.”

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd.

I kneel and hand the baby back to his mother this time.

“She protects him,” I say loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Not you.”

The man rises slowly, humiliation twisting his features. He glares at his wife as if this is somehow her fault.

Then, without another word, he turns and pushes through the crowd, walking away in shame.

The woman clutches her son tighter, tears mixing with soot on her face.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I rise slowly, scanning the crowd. The fire has completely died out now.

Not because of buckets of water.

Because I command it to.

I close my eyes slowly and let my senses stretch outward.

The entire vale hums inside my head— coughing survivors, racing heartbeats, the distant drip of water against charred wood. I move through it all without physically moving at all.

No more screams.

No more trapped breaths.

No more collapsing roofs.

Everyone is safe. Good.

I exhale and open my eyes, slightly startled to find them looking at me differently.

Not as a captive.

Not as an outsider but as something they don’t quite understand.

One by one, people lower their gazes.

Then they kneel.

Not dramatically. Not in chaos.

Quietly. Heads bowed. Hands pressed to their chests.

The women I carry out of the fire. The children I shield. Even warriors who bow to no one but their Alpha.

They kneel.

For me.

For a moment, I simply stare at them.

I do not do this for worship.

I do it because leaving them would mean becoming exactly what I hate.

Still… the power rippling through the air right now is not fear.

It is reverence.

I clear my throat, about to tell them to stand—

“To your feet!” a sharp voice cuts through.

Keal. Of course.

He strides forward, his expression tight but controlled.

“That’s enough, all of you,” he announces loudly. A subtle shift enters his tone.

His beta voice.

It rolls over the crowd like invisible pressure. “Focus on rebuilding the pack. The lady is exhausted and requires rest. There is no need for this spectacle.”

There is something dismissive in the way he says it. As if my presence is an inconvenience. As if what just happened is a disruption rather than salvation.

They obey immediately. Heads lift. Spines straighten. No one questions him.

Interesting.

“We will take it from here,” he says again, turning to me. “Alpha Kei has instructed me to escort you.”

His posture is confident but his scent is not. Fear.

Sharp. Metallic.

Now he knows.

Now he has seen what I can do.

It is almost amusing watching him pretend he is not intimidated.

I tilt my head slightly. “How thoughtful of him.”

I scan the area casually but Kei is nowhere in sight.

That surprises me.

I expect him to march over the second the flames die, snap those cuffs back onto my wrists, and lecture me about control.

Not that it would work. I will not be caught off guard again.

If he tries now, I will have him on his knees before he finishes the sentence.

And honestly?

I might enjoy watching him pretend to be dominant first before I break him.

But he is not here which means one thing. He is thinking.

And that makes him far more dangerous than if he acts on impulse.

Keal gestures for me to walk. He is in a rush. Too much of one.

Not even a thank you for saving half the pack. Not even basic courtesy—just urgency.

Suspicious urgency.

As we walk, whispers trail behind us.

“Who is she?”

“She came with the Alpha…”

“Is she the Moon Goddess?”

“Did you see the fire bow?”