Chapter 2

The Frozen Boundary

POV: ELARA VANCE

​The first thing I registered was the mud. It was cold, slick, and smelled of rot, pressing against my cheek. The second thing was the agony in my chest.

​It wasn't just a physical pain; it was a void. Where my heart should have been, there was now a gaping, ragged hole that pulsed with a dull, aching emptiness. The rejection hadn't just severed a connection; it felt like it had surgically removed a vital part of my soul.

​I gasped, the sound coming out as a wet rattle. My body was curled tight on the damp earth outside the rear servants' entrance of the pack house. I remembered the guards dragging me from the ballroom, their grip bruising my arms. They hadn’t been gentle. Why would they be? I was no longer just the Runt; I was the Rejected. A stain on the Alpha’s reputation.

​"Get up, Vance."

​I flinched, trying to push myself upright, but my arms trembled and gave out. I fell back into the mud.

​Standing over me was Marcus, one of Kaelen’s personal enforcers. He held a small canvas duffel bag in one hand. He tossed it at me; it hit my shoulder with a heavy thud.

​"Clothes. A water skin. A knife. More than you deserve," Marcus spat, his lip curling in disgust. "Alpha’s orders were clear. You have until sunrise to clear the boundary line."

​I finally managed to sit up, wiping mud and tears from my face with a trembling hand. The night air was already freezing, turning the moisture on my skin to ice. I looked up at the towering stone facade of the Blackwood manor. Golden light spilled from the ballroom windows, accompanied by the faint thrum of bass from the music.

​The party was continuing. My life had ended, but their celebration hadn't even paused.

​"Where... where am I supposed to go?" I whispered, my throat raw from screaming.

​Marcus laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Not our problem. North is the only way that doesn't lead into Ally territory. You go North, you hit the Wildlands."

​The Wildlands.

​The unclaimed territory. A vast expanse of dense, frozen forests and jagged mountains inhabited only by rogues—wolves gone mad with bloodlust—and things even worse than rogues. It was a death sentence. Kaelen hadn't just exiled me; he had politely told me to go die somewhere he wouldn't have to smell the corpse.

​"If we catch your scent on this side of the river when the sun hits the peaks," Marcus leaned down, his eyes flashing beta-yellow, "I’ll finish what the Alpha started. Move."

​He kicked dirt at me and turned back toward the warmth of the house. The heavy door slammed shut, severing the last beam of light.

​I was alone in the dark.

​I grabbed the canvas bag, my fingers numb, and stumbled toward the treeline. Every step was a battle. My human legs were weak, and the emotional trauma had sapped my physical strength. The forest was pitch black, the canopy so dense it blocked out the stars and the cruel red light of the Blood Moon.

​I ran. Or rather, I limped quickly. Roots snagged my ankles, and low-hanging branches whipped my face, slicing my cheeks, but I didn't stop. The image of Kaelen’s cold, hate-filled amber eyes burned in my mind, driving me forward.

“​I reject you.”

​The words echoed on a loop. Why? Why did the Moon Goddess give me to him if he was only going to throw me away? Was I truly so worthless that even fate had decided to mock me?

​I reached the boundary river hours later. My lungs burned, and my feet were blistered inside my thin servant shoes. The river was wide and churning with snowmelt, the water black and deadly fast. Across the water lay the Wildlands. 

The trees over there looked darker, taller, twisted into agonizing shapes.

​There was a fallen ancient oak that served as a precarious bridge. I didn't hesitate. To stay meant death by Marcus’s claws. To cross meant a slower death by exposure or rogues. I chose the slower death. At least it was my own choice.

​I crawled across the slick trunk, the icy spray of the river soaking my tattered uniform. When I dropped onto the far bank, the temperature seemed to plummet instantly. The air here was still, silent, and brutally cold.

​I walked for what felt like an eternity. The snow got deeper, reaching my knees. I was shivering so violently my teeth ached. I tried to wrap the spare tunic from the bag around my face, but it did little against the biting wind that had sprung up.

​Hypothermia was setting in. I knew the signs. The violent shivering was starting to subside, replaced by a seductive, heavy drowsiness. My movements became sluggish. The pain in my chest dulled, not because it was healing, but because my body was shutting down processing power to keep my vital organs alive a little longer.

​Just lie down, a voice whispered in my head. Just close your eyes for a moment. The pain will stop.

​I stumbled into a small clearing ringed by massive pines. The snow here was pristine, untouched. It looked soft. Like a bed.

​I collapsed. The snow didn't feel cold anymore; it felt strangely warm against my cheek. I curled onto my side, staring blankly into the darkness between the trees.

​So this is it, I thought, my mind hazy. Twenty-one years of being nothing, ending in the middle of nowhere.

​I closed my eyes, waiting for the final darkness.

​Snap.

​My eyes flew open. The sound wasn't natural. It wasn't snow falling from a branch or the wind. It was the deliberate snap of a heavy paw breaking wood.

​Adrenaline surged through me, temporarknittedburning off the lethargy. I wasn't alone.

​A rogue. It had to be.

​I tried to scramble backward, shoving my heels into the snow, but my limbs wouldn't obey. I fumbled for the bag, my frozen fingers trying to find the knife Marcus had mentioned, but my hands were useless blocks of ice.

​A low growl vibrated through the clearing. It was deeper than any wolf growl I had ever heard in the pack. It felt prehistoric.

​Out of the shadows, they emerged.

​Not one, but five.

​They were massive. Easily twice the size of the largest warriors in Kaelen’s pack. Their fur was matted and thick, covered in scars that gleamed silver in the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. Their eyes weren't the yellow or amber of normal wolves; they glowed a feral, unsettling crimson.

​Shadow Wolves. The legends were true. They weren't just rogues; they were ancient, cannibalistic throwbacks that hunted the deep woods.

​The largest one, a brute with half an ear missing, stalked toward me. Its muzzle was wrinkled in a perpetual snarl, revealing yellow fangs the size of daggers. It lowered its head, sniffing the air loudly, taking in the scent of my fear, my weakness, and the lingering stench of the Blackwood pack.

​It was going to eat me alive.

​I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the tearing of flesh.

​ “Get up.”

​The voice didn't come from the wolves. It came from inside me. It wasn't the weak, trembling inner voice I was used to. It was deep, resonant, and furious.

 “GET UP.”

​A new sensation slammed into my chest, violent and invasive. It wasn't themandirtfestostostostostostoestostostostostostostostostostostostoststststststg void of rejection this time. It was fire. Liquid, white-hot fire injected directly into my heart.

​I screamed. It was a guttural sound that tore my own throat.

​The fire spread, racing through my veins, boiling my blood. The numbness of the cold vanished instantly, replaced by an agony so intense it eclipsed everything else.

​My back arched off the snow involuntarily. A sickening CRACK echoed through the clearing as my spine shattered and rearranged itself.

​The Shadow Wolves whimpered, backing away into the darkness, fleeing the raw power flooding the clearing. But I couldn't see them anymore. My vision was swimming in violet light.

​Another crack. My femurs snapped, lengthening. My jaw unhinged.

​It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I had seen wolves shift before; it was supposed to be natural, fluid, an embrace of the other half. This felt like an exorcism. This felt like something massive, something that had been compressed for twenty-one years, was finally exploding out of a cage too small to contain it.

​I looked down at my hands as they clawed into the snow. My fingernails turned black and elongated into talons. White fur erupted through my skin, tearing my servant's uniform to shreds.

​The pain was blinding, consuming. And beneath the pain, that voice roared in my mind—a voice that was me, but more than me.

​They thought we were weak, the voice snarled. “Show them.”

​I threw my head back and howled. It wasn't the howl of an Omega. It was the sound of a Queen claiming her throne.