Chapter 18

Katla

We bolted through the forest and I took in the scents and sounds, the way the leaves felt under my feet, and how the moss created soft, slick beds at the edges of the trees. This was my home, but I had to run. Even in gatherings, I had never gone far from Iceclaw, and until today, Silverburn was something I knew little about. A name that was whispered, but never openly discussed. Wild howls filled the woods, but because they were growing more quiet, I knew the pack had stayed in the glade. It still wouldn’t buy us much time.

“Let’s get to the cars,” Damien commanded.

“I can’t leave without my mother’s necklace. I will be fast and quiet. The house is empty.”

“Fine,” Damien reluctantly agreed, “But if anyone comes, you have to understand that we must leave.”

I padded silently to the large doors and shifted back to my human form, four legs transforming into my pale, naked arms and legs, my claws becoming fingers and toes. My body straightened and my golden hair cascaded into soft waves down my back. My breasts returned to their fullness with my pink nipples erect in the night sky. I could feel Damien watching and admiring my round, muscular ass. The wetness between my legs began to creep back, and my wolf was ready as she thought about how he had said, “Good girl,” earlier in the evening. My breath hitched and I placed my hand on the door’s latch.

Pushing the door slowly and quietly, I listened for anything or anyone that may complicate my plan. When I was sure the packhouse was empty, I ran swiftly through the marbled foyer, up the stairs, and past my father’s office. The door was open and the light cascaded into the corridor, which was unusual. I went in.

The office was empty, but papers had been scattered and the fireplace held the still smouldering ashes of documents and files. I looked into the ashes and shook off one of the singed pages. Last Will and Testament. My father’s will had been tossed into the fire, and while significant portions were burned, my father’s signature was intact. Portions that said my name were either faded by fire or burned beyond recognition, and farther down, it instructed that my step-mother and Viti be given our country villa and reasonable allowance. Clearly, if he had intended Viti to be Alpha, he would not have wanted him to move from the Packhouse. I held on to the document as I walked across the lush carpeting to my father’s imposing, ancient desk.

Claw marks ran along the top from whoever had scattered and burned the papers. I knew what they were looking for, the letter for the Alpha in Waiting, our pack’s tradition for generations. Only the next Alpha knew where the compartment that would hold it was hidden and it was the last scrap of evidence proving that I was Alpha, not Viti.

I sat in my fathers chair, and inserted my claw into a tiny groove near the edge of the underside of the desk. The secret drawer right under the tabletop popped open with a soft click. A single envelope was inside with my name scrawled across the front in my father’s handwriting. I held back the tears threatening to escape the corners of my eyes. I turned the envelope over in my hand, but in the distance, I could hear howls and yips coming closer. Shit.

I quietly and quickly sprung up from the chair and sprinted down the hall to my room. I opened the door and slid it closed behind me. Looking down, I realized I was still naked except for the purple diamond still at my throat and that I should put on something for my journey into the unknown. I turned on the lamp in the corner and realized my room had suffered the same fate as my father’s office.

My bed was torn to shreds, my table was overturned, and the box holding the flowers was torn and roses and daisies scattered everywhere. The same intoxicating and relaxing scent from earlier filled the room and a calmness filled the space where confused fury had been sitting in me.

“Get the necklace!” Aurelia reminded me.

I ran to the painting of the Moon Goddess looking over a wolf with glowing golden cinnamon fur running over a frozen landscape that had hung on my wall since I was a baby. After I met my wolf on our first shifting, I realized that wolf was me, minus the glowing. It pained me to see it hanging in ribbons from claws ripping through it. Behind the painting was a safe where I kept my most precious belonging, a moonstone necklace that belonged to my mother. It was still locked tight.

Twisting the knob, I heard the click and the latch opened. Laying inside the safe, still secure, was my mother’s necklace. I took out the delicate tear-drop shaped pendant that always emitted a soft, iridescent glow. It was one of the few things I remembered about my mother, the way it had hung around her neck, just above her breast. She told me it was a drop of moon, given to us from the Moon Goddess many generations ago. Every time she told me the story, she would touch the pendant lovingly.

When I asked my father to tell me the story after her death, he told me it was a nice story and nothing more. I stopped asking, and kept the necklace tucked away. “Mom, I’m sorry.” I didn’t know why I was apologizing to her, but in this moment, I felt like I had failed my parents.

I turned to go to my closet to grab the first thing I could, and as I turned, two blue eyes and delicate golden ringlets and a bright, fresh mark were standing in my doorway. “Hekla!” I gasped.

“Traitor,” Aurelia snapped.