Chapter 1 The Girl Men Died For

The first man who touched me died when I was ten.

I still remember the sound his body made when it hit the ground.

A sick crack.

Like broken branches during winter.

At first, I thought Rowan was joking. He had always been dramatic, always laughing too loudly or pretending to be hurt whenever we played near the river.

But then I saw the blood.

It slipped from the corner of his mouth slowly, dark and thick, staining the grass beneath him.

"Rowan?"

My voice trembled.

He didn't answer.

His eyes were wide open, frozen in terror as if he had seen death itself standing before him.

And maybe he had.

Maybe it was me.

The villagers found us minutes later.

I still remember the screaming.

"Stay away from her!"

"She killed him!"

"Don't touch the girl!"

My mother held me tightly while people dragged Rowan's body away. Her hands shook against my shoulders, but she kept whispering the same thing into my hair.

"It's okay, Gina. Don't cry. Don't cry."

But she was crying too.

That was the day everything changed.

At first, the pack elders called it an accident.

Then another man died.

And another.

Each death was worse than the last.

One collapsed after brushing against my hand during the harvest festival. Another died after trying to pull me away from a fire.

No wound. No poison. No explanation.

Just death.

People started avoiding me after that.

The girls in the pack whispered whenever I walked past them. Children ran away from me like I carried a disease. Even grown warriors lowered their eyes whenever I entered a room.

I became a curse nobody wanted near them.

At sixteen, I stopped leaving our house unless necessary.

At eighteen, my mother died from fever, leaving me completely alone.

And by twenty-two, I had become nothing more than a ghost living at the edge of Moonridge Pack.

The cursed girl.

That was all I was now.

Present day

The cold wind slapped against my face as I carried a basket through the market road. My cloak covered most of my body, but it didn't matter.

People recognized me instantly.

They always did.

A woman quickly pulled her son behind her when she saw me approaching.

"Don't stare at her," she hissed quietly.

As if I couldn't hear.

I lowered my eyes and kept walking.

I was used to it.

The insults. The fear. The disgust.

Still, some days hurt more than others.

"Monster," someone muttered nearby.

Another voice laughed softly. "I heard three men died because of her."

"No, four."

"They should've killed her years ago."

My fingers tightened around the basket.

I kept walking.

Don't react. Don't cry. Don't let them see it hurts.

That had become my survival.

The market was crowded today because warriors from Nightfang Pack had arrived before sunrise. Their banners hung proudly near the center square, black cloth marked with silver wolves.

Even from a distance, I could feel the tension in the air.

Nightfang wolves were dangerous.

Stronger. Crueler. Richer.

Their Alpha was feared across the northern territories.

Alpha Gabriel Knight.

I had never seen him before, but stories about him traveled faster than storms.

Some called him a beast disguised as a man. Others called him a king born for war.

I didn't care either way.

Powerful Alphas were still men.

And men died when they touched me.

I turned sharply toward the herb stall, hoping to avoid attention, when someone suddenly stepped into my path.

Then the scent hit me first.

Dark cedar. Rain. Wild smoke.

My breath caught.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

And froze.

He was taller than every man around him, broad shoulders wrapped in a black coat that screamed authority without effort. Dark hair brushed against his forehead carelessly, but it was his eyes that trapped me.

Silver.

Not gray.

Silver.

The kind of eyes wolves in old legends possessed.

The entire market had gone silent.

Even the air felt heavier.

Alpha Gabriel Knight.

He stared directly at me like the rest of the world no longer existed.

Something inside me twisted painfully.

His gaze slowly moved across my face, not with fear or disgust…

But curiosity.

Interest.

My stomach tightened.

No.

No, no, no.

He cannot come near me.

I immediately stepped back.

"Move," I whispered.

Instead of moving, he stepped closer.

My pulse exploded.

"Alpha," one of the warriors behind him warned carefully. "That's the cursed girl."

"I know," he answered calmly.

His eyes never left mine.

Fear crawled up my throat.

Why wasn't he afraid?

Everyone feared me.

Everyone.

"You should stay away from me," I said quickly.

His lips twitched slightly, almost amused.

"And why would I do that?"

Because you'll die.

The words stayed trapped inside my chest.

I backed away again, but he continued forward slowly like a predator cornering frightened prey.

People nearby began whispering nervously.

"He's too close."

"Someone stop him."

"He'll die."

My breathing became uneven.

Why wasn't he listening?

"Please," I whispered this time. "Don't touch me."

Something changed in his expression after hearing that.

Not fear.

Pain.

As if my words had offended him somehow.

Then his hand moved.

Fast.

Before I could escape, his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

The world stopped.

Gasps exploded around us.

Someone screamed.

I stared at his hand touching my skin.

One second passed.

Then two.

My body turned cold.

This was always the part where they started screaming.

Where blood appeared.

Where death came.

But Gabriel stood perfectly still.

Alive.

Nothing happened.

The basket slipped from my hands, fruits scattering across the ground.

Impossible.

My lips parted soundlessly as I looked up at him.

He was watching me carefully now, shock flickering behind his silver eyes.

Not because he was dying.

Because he wasn't.

Around us, the entire market had fallen silent.

I could hear my heartbeat.

Fast. Violent. Terrified.

Gabriel slowly tightened his fingers around my wrist.

Still alive.

Then, very softly, he said the words that shattered my entire world.

"You're trembling."