Chapter 1

“Run, Aliyah. Don’t look back.”

Those were her father’s final words, spoken with urgency and desperation. Little Aliyah’s legs trembled beneath her, but she obeyed. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she ran—heart pounding, lungs burning. She didn’t dare glance behind. She couldn’t. The crackling sound of fire consuming her home and the savage growls of clashing wolves were all the reminders she needed of what she was running from.

The forest loomed around her, dense with twisted trees and thorny underbrush. Each step was a battle—branches slapped against her skin, roots clawed at her feet—but she pushed forward. The acrid scent of smoke thickened the air, stinging her eyes and throat. Behind her, the chaos grew louder: snarls, howls, and the desperate cries of the dying.

Her pack—Light Star—was losing. She had known the outcome the moment she saw the way her father, the weakest of the werewolves, took his stand. He didn’t have the strength to win, but he had the heart to buy her time. Enough time to flee, enough time to live. She knew deep inside that he was already dead.

Then, out of nowhere—pain.

A deafening crack to the side of her head sent her crashing to the forest floor. Everything spun. The world dimmed. Her body refused to move. She hadn’t made it. She had failed.

Smoke choked the land in the aftermath of war. The once peaceful forest was now a graveyard, its silence broken only by the sounds of the wind, distant groans, and the occasional crunch of a footstep.

Ruidiger, Alpha of the Blood Crescent Pack, stood tall among the carnage. His fur-lined cloak was stained with the blood of his enemies, his eyes scanning the battlefield with cold detachment. The Light Star Pack had fallen, and victory was theirs.

“Alpha, the spoils have been gathered. We’re ready to depart,” one of his warriors reported, his voice low and respectful.

Ruidiger nodded once. “Good,” he murmured, turning to walk toward the waiting vehicles. The injured had been loaded into cars, while the corpses of the fallen—warriors who had paid the ultimate price—were heaped into the back of a truck to be honored with a proper burial once they returned.

As Ruidiger approached his own vehicle, a faint sound stopped him in his tracks.

A whimper.

Soft. Barely audible. Yet it sliced through the silence like a scream.

“Is something wrong, Alpha?” asked Bayle, his beta, stepping beside him.

Ruidiger didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he moved slowly toward the source of the sound, his boots crunching over broken twigs and the bodies of the dead. The scent of blood and smoke was overwhelming.

Then he saw her.

A small, fragile figure sprawled on the ground—barely a child. Her limbs twitched weakly, her head lolled from side to side, and deep gashes marred her tiny frame. Blood stained her pale skin and matted her dark hair.

Bayle appeared beside him, frowning. “A survivor?” he sneered. “Let me finish her off. The Light Star deserves no mercy.”

But Ruidiger raised a hand, stopping him.

“No. She’s one of the spoils now,” he said quietly, his voice unreadable.

Bayle hesitated, clearly confused. “She’s just a pup.”

“Then she’ll be raised as one of ours,” Ruidiger said without emotion.

Obeying his Alpha’s order, Bayle lifted the unconscious girl without care. Her wounds were still raw, her breathing faint. With no concern for her condition, he tossed her among the bodies of the fallen, placing her in the truck beside the dead—assuming she wouldn’t survive the journey anyway.

Three long days passed as the warriors traveled back to their territory. When they finally arrived, the gates of the Blood Crescent Pack were flung open to welcome them. Cheers erupted from the citizens, who came out in droves to celebrate the victory. Banners waved, music played, and families rushed to embrace their returning heroes.

Luna Rosetta ran into Ruidiger’s arms, her children clinging to his sides. She smiled brightly, relief etched across her face.

“This calls for a celebration, my love,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Ruidiger smiled faintly. “Yes, my queen. But first, we bury the dead.”

He gently tousled the hair of his children as they looked up at him with wide smiles. “One day, son, you’ll understand why we go to war,” Ruidiger said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning.

Little Leo grinned up at his father and puffed out his chest with pride. “And I’ll return even more victorious than you, Father!”

Laughter erupted around them at the boy’s bold declaration, the lighthearted moment lifting the heavy atmosphere—if only briefly.

But the laughter faded instantly when Ruidiger’s tone turned firm. “Unload the bodies.”

Bayle lowered his head in response, the weight of grief pressing down on his shoulders.

The loss was staggering. Too many brave warriors had fallen in this battle—another cruel toll paid at the hands of the Light Star Pack. Rage flared in Bayle’s eyes as he looked toward the bodies.

That vile pack had been merciless to the weak for decades causing havoc to their neighbouring packs, and now they’d finally received the fate they deserved. With disgust, he spat on the ground.

One by one, the bodies of the fallen warriors were carefully offloaded from the truck. Wails of grief filled the air as their loved ones wept and mourned. It was a somber sight, a stark contrast to the earlier joy.

Then, something unexpected happened.

As Bayle reached for what he thought was another lifeless corpse, he froze. The girl—that girl—her body was still warm. He touched her wrist, then her neck. A heartbeat. Faint, but steady. And she was breathing.

He stepped back in shock, his eyes wide.

“Alpha…” he called, his voice shaken.

Ruidiger approached, his brow furrowed. “What is it?”

Bayle gestured to the girl. “She’s still alive. She shouldn’t be. Not after three days among the dead.”

Ruidiger stared down at her. Her chest rose and fell softly, and for a moment, he thought he imagined it. But no—she was alive. Against all odds, the little pup had survived.

“The little one lives,” Bayle said, almost in disbelief.

Ruidiger didn’t respond. He only stared at her, as if seeing something no one else could. A child of a fallen enemy, marked for death… but still breathing.