Chapter Two: A Daughters Cage

Evelyn

I had been in the attic for quite some time thinking, dreaming. Of a different life, one where I wasn’t bound by my father’s constant rules.

Where I could slip between shadows unnoticed. Where the forest didn’t feel like a prison’s edge, but an invitation.

Everything had its place in the Vale house. My satchel and book went straight to the small chest at the foot of my bed. The window I’d left cracked earlier had already been shut and locked—likely by one of the maids.

Even the air felt staler, like someone had scrubbed my presence from the room while I was gone. I trailed my fingers over my desk, grounding myself in the routine I’d outgrown.

I was allowed to read, but only after training. Only the books Father deemed “appropriate.” War tactics. Weaponry. Field medicine. Nothing with magic. Nothing romantic. Definitely nothing where the wolves weren’t monsters.

But he couldn’t monitor my thoughts. Not yet.

I descended the stairs just as Father entered behind me, boots heavy on the stone floor. His expression wasn’t anger anymore—it was worse. Controlled disappointment. The kind that curled into you like a hook.

“You disobeyed me,” he said.

“I know.”

He dropped his gear at the base of the stairs and walked past me into the main hall. The house was a fortress—stone walls, reinforced windows, and a study filled with weapons instead of books. A dozen hunters called this compound home, but our house sat above the rest. Overlooking them. Like a throne.

He motioned for me to follow.

I hesitated, then obeyed.

The training grounds glowed under floodlights beyond the windows. Even this late, hunters were shouting and firing rounds. It never stopped. We were always waiting and preparing for war.

Inside the den, Father poured himself a glass of something dark. He didn’t offer me anything.

“You’ve always had a soft heart,” he said. “That’s not a flaw. But it can be a weakness.”

“Going into the forest doesn’t mean I’m weak,” I said.

“It means you’re reckless. You think the world is kind just because the sun filters through the trees. But Evelyn, this world is not kind. Not to people like us.”

“People like us?”

“Hunters. Survivors.” His eyes sharpened. “You forget who we are. What we’ve lost.”

I didn’t need reminding. The photograph in the entryway haunted me—my mother’s smile frozen in time, her eyes crinkling with laughter. I couldn’t remember her voice, only the stories. How the wolves tore through her squad. How my father found her too late. How she died before I ever spoke my first word.

It was a hole in my memory but a permanent scar in his.

He took another sip. “You’ll be doubling your training. Your patrol observations start tomorrow.”

I blinked “Patrols?”

“You’re nineteen. Most girls your age are already in the field. If you want to earn your name as a Vale, start carrying your weight.”

I wanted to argue. To say I didn’t want to hunt, didn’t want to aim a crossbow at something that bled like me. But I didn't. He wouldn’t hear it.

“I saw signs in the woods today,” he said. “A pack’s near our border. They’re getting bolder.”

My stomach turned. “Did you see them?”

“No. But the tracks were fresh. You were lucky.”

I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t feel lucky, I felt… watched. Claimed.

“Do you know what they do to humans they catch, Evelyn?” His voice dropped. “They don’t just kill us. They toy with us. Break us. Wolves are cunning. They wear the shape of men to fool people like you. But they’re beasts. Always have been.”

A shiver crept down my spine.

“You are never to go into that forest again. Not without me. Not ever. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes softened—briefly. “I only want to keep you safe.”

That might’ve been true. But safety under my fathers rule always came with a leash.

He waved me away, already reaching for a file. His mind had moved on—to strategy, reports, gear manifests. The attack on my freedom had already been filed away under “necessary corrections.”

Upstairs, I didn’t go to bed. I stood at the window, watching the forest sway beneath the stars. I should be terrified.

Instead, something in my chest ached.

Something that didn’t fit the neat little cage of expectations built for me.

Morning came too early.

I woke to the sound of footsteps and barking orders. The camp came alive at dawn and so did training. I dressed quickly— thick boots, cotton tunic, the standard hunter jacket. My braid was tight. My satchel, packed with books I was ‘supposed’ to carry.

The aches in my shoulders from yesterday’s training had settled, but I pushed past them. Pain was expected.

Downstairs, the house buzzed. Maps, gear, loaded weapons. I passed through quietly, ignoring the nods and glances of the other hunters. Everyone knew who I was. Dorian’s daughter. The disappointment.

Saturday meant drills and weapons inspection. Just another day. Unfortunately for me, my father is making me do double.

I found my father in the kitchen, coffee in hand, radio crackling.

He didn’t look up. “Eat something. Then yard.”

I grabbed half a protein bar. The clock ticked.

7:00 a.m. sharp.

Outside, the air smelled like iron and smoke. The yard echoed with shouted commands and the slap of bodies hitting mats.

“Late again,” barked Lieutenant Merren. She tossed me a wooden staff. “Get in line.”

We trained until my whole body screamed in protest. Strike. Block. Counter. I was average at best, too slow, too hesitant. She shouted corrections until my cheeks burned. The other girls glanced my way—some smug, some pitying. 

I hated those looks the most.

Other hunters were doing formation training, target practice, perimeter tracking.. But I was the only girl without a red armband, which marked trainees still under review.

Father said I didn’t need one. Said I was better.

But better didn’t mean free.

After drills, I cleaned weapons. Filed reports. My knuckles were raw, my head pounding.

But I didn’t complain.

This was my life.

This was what it meant to be a Vale.

By midday, I was bruised, sore, and exhausted. But the worst part wasn’t the pain.

It was knowing I didn’t belong here.

Not in this war.

Not in this world.

Not when the forest still called with the promise of something else.

Something that didn’t feel like a cage.

Something that looked back.