登入Selena’s POV
The sound of Mary’s weeping fills the small room, each sob a raw, splintering thing. I can feel Damian’s tension behind me, his hand still gripping my arm, silently urging me to stay hidden. But I can’t. Seeing Mary cry like that—broken, shattered, clutching her phone as if it’s the only thing tethering her to this world—something shifts inside me. I know this is bad and selfish, to take advantage of someone’s p
Greta's POVThe morning light filters through the windows, soft and golden, but it brings no warmth to the room. The air is still. Heavy. Waiting.I sit beside Selena's bed, her hand in mine, my thumb tracing slow circles on her skin.She's been asleep for hours now—too many hours.Her face is peaceful, her breathing steady, her body still. She looks like she's simply resting. Like she'll wake up any moment and smile at me and ask what all the fuss is about.But she doesn't wake.I've tried everything. I've checked her pulse, her temperature, her reflexes. I've used every healing technique I know—every herb, every prayer. Nothing works.She's not sick. She's not injured. She's just... gone. Trapped somewhere I can't reach.The door opens, and I don't look. I know it's Maya. I recognize her footsteps—quick, urgent, worried.She crosses the room in three strides and stands on the other side
Selena's POVI follow the light.My legs are shaking. My heart is pounding. My whole body feels like it's made of glass—fragile, breakable, one wrong move from shattering completely.But I walk anyway. I have to. Because the light is her. And I've been running from her for too long.The glow grows brighter with each step. White. Pure. Faintly silver at the edges. It pulses like a heartbeat—slow, steady, alive.And then I see her.She's curled in on herself. A tight ball of white fur and trembling limbs.But even curled up, she's massive—larger than any female wolf I've ever seen. The size of something that shouldn't exist in the mind of a woman who can barely do anything.I stop.I'm small before her. Insignificant. A tiny human standing before a creature of myth and legend.Her fur is white—or it should be. But it's faded now. Dull. Streaked with grey and something darker. Li
Selena's POVI'm standing on the first step of the white staircase.The void stretches endlessly around me—black, empty, silent.The stairs descend into darkness, one step at a time, disappearing into shadows I can't see through. My white gown billows around my ankles though there's no wind. My bare feet are cold against the luminous steps.I take a breath. Then I take a step.And the first memory appears.I see myself—barely seven years old—standing in front of a mirror. My eyes are red and swollen from crying. Behind me, in the reflection, Mama lies on the bed.And there, in the corner of my mind, I see her.My wolf.A small white pup, confused, whimpering, trying to reach out to me."I hate you! You hurt Mama! I never want to see you again!"The words echo in the void around me, sharp and cruel."You monster! Look what you did! You're not my wolf… you're a beast! A filthy, disgusting beast! I wish you had never been born!"*The wolf howls. It's a sound of pure, shattered grief. And
Selena's POVThe room is dark.The only light comes from the pale moon filtering through the curtains, casting silver shadows across the floor.Maya is asleep beside me on the vast bed, her breathing soft and even, her face peaceful in a way mine will never be. Greta is on the other side, her face relaxed.I can't sleep.I'm lying on my side, staring at nothing. The tears come and go, silent streams that slide from one eye, across the bridge of my nose, and disappear into the pillow beneath my cheek.I don't wipe them away. I don't try to stop them. What's the point?My mind is a storm, thoughts crashing against each other like waves in a hurricane. Since I realize it was really not her fault.My wolf.I think about her—really think about her—for the first time in years.Not as a tool. Not as a power. Not as something to be feared or controlled or suppressed.As a companion. The ot
Selena's POV"Why did my wolf attack my mother?"The question hangs in the air between us. It's a question I've carried for ten years—a wound that never healed, a mystery that haunted every quiet moment, a guilt that gnawed at my soul.Greta doesn't flinch. She doesn't look away. She simply takes my hand in hers, her fingers warm against my cold skin."There are two possibilities," she says softly. "And I believe both are true."I wait, my heart pounding."Your wolf didn't attack your mother because she was evil. She didn't attack her because she hated her. She attacked her because she was terrified."I blink, confused."Think about it, Selena. You were a child. It was your first shift. Your wolf had never been out before... never seen the world, never smelled the air, never felt the grass beneath her paws. Everything was new. Everything was overwhelming. The sounds were too loud. The smells were too s
Selena's POVI'm sitting on the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion, my heart heavier still.Maya is beside me, her presence a warm anchor in the storm of my emotions. My head rests on her chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat a lullaby that should soothe me but doesn't.Her hand strokes the back of my head in slow, gentle motions, her fingers threading through my hair. Our other hands are intertwined, holding each other like a lifeline.Greta sits before us on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on my legs. Her touch is warm, grounding, a silent reminder that I'm not alone.That I've never been alone, even when I felt like I was."Everything will be alright," Greta says softly.I want to believe her. I want to believe it more than anything."I'm scared," I whisper. "So scared."Greta's eyes find mine with uncanny accuracy. She can easily see the fear written across my face, the trembling in my voice,
I wake up to sunlight and the smell of something cooking.For a second, I forget where I am. Think I'm back home, in my tiny room, with Dad making breakfast downstairs. Then I see the white walls, the unfamiliar ceiling, the fireplace with cold ash in it.Right. Silvermoon. Damian's house. Not dead
I can't breathe.Caden stands in the middle of Damian's front yard like he owns it, he does owns everything. His dark hair catches the morning light. His ice-blue eyes sweep over the Silvermoon pack members with that look I know too well—the one that says *you're beneath me* without him having to o
I wake up in a bed that's not mine.That's my first thought. Before I open my eyes, before I remember anything—just that the sheets smell different. Like pine and something else. Something clean and sharp.Then everything comes rushing back. The rejection. The run. The rain. The wolves.I sit up so
I don't remember leaving the pack grounds.One minute I'm on that platform, choking on my own vomit, and the next I'm in my room with my dad shoving clothes into a bag. My hands still won't stop shaking. My whole body shakes. It's like the rejection burned through everything—muscles, bones, the par







