The Broken Warrior's Daughter Novels & Stories

He rolled his hands into fists. “Were the captives in any way noteworthy, Marley?” A pregnant pause swelled between them. It made Atticus’s whole body itch and his muscles ache with tension. “The scout reported one of them as being from our pack, Alpha. The Warrior Wolf, Maveln Cole. And… and his daughter, Lily.” Atticus’s chest exploded. The space where his heart had once resided was left nothing more than an empty, desolate cavern. His throat closed. Nothing felt real.

It was a woman, and the moment his eyes fell upon her, an icy dread settled in his stomach. “Serena,” he breathed recognition hitting him like a tidal wave. She was the daughter of Alpha Galen of the Ravenwood Pack, a name he had heard whispered in both admiration and envy. Known for her strength and beauty, she was a force in her own right. But now, as he looked at her fragile form, he could hardly reconcile the image of the fierce warrior with the broken woman before him.

She knew the healers would keep her safe. I was not sure what and how could I possibly do at this moment. This was my fault. I shouldn't have brought her here. But I won't let her die like a slave. I won't. I Channelised my powers in one as I put a goblet of air, filled with memories of truth. She must see it own. It has to be her to break the slave bond. She has to find herself. She is not a slave child. She is the daughter of Ben Duniee, The great and brave warrior.

“All he said was that she was murdered by a hunter mob. Hunters haven’t been active in centuries. Not since we revealed our existence to the world.” “It’s a start. I can put my people on it. The guild in Cerathe was disbanded when Ava took the throne, but Alistair is still in touch with former members. If there’s any information on them, he will be able to find it.” Lucas sighed and pulled me closer to him. Breathing in my scent helped to calm him after particularly stressful events. Finding his daughter almost eighteen years after her mother vanished, pregnant with her, qualified as one of those events.

The warriors were dressed in uniforms, and each of their blades had one thing in common, “A silver moon crest.” “If you're just going to stand there and watch, move away. You're not needed here.” A soft voice flowed into my ears, both soothing and calming. I raised a brow and directed my gaze towards her, “Then you're also not needed here.” I shrugged, checking out her appearance. She looked frail, weak, her raven black hair flowing down her waist. Obviously, she was here to watch the warriors fight as well. Her lips curled up in a heartwarming smile, and I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest, “I am the Alpha's daughter. Don't you think it's my duty to watch them?”

I said, my voice cold and commanding, carrying the weight of absolute authority. Chloe lifted her head, eyes burning with hatred. "So what? My father will—" "Your father chose peace. The Bloodfang pack's army has already withdrawn to the borders." I cut her off, my words striking her like hammers, shattering any hope. "The one who started this war was Damian, and he will face a fair trial." I paused before enunciating, "As for you, under the ancient law of an eye for an eye, you will endure the same suffering I once endured."

Not from the sky, but from within her. The amulet around her neck flared with silver fire. Her skin glowed faintly, her breath visible in shimmering streaks. And she heard a voice—not spoken aloud, but pressed into her soul like a memory. > Daughter of pain. Child of silence. You have endured. Now you must become. Elira gasped, her hands pressing into the stone. > You were born to walk through fire. To be broken so you could rise. Not to be saved. But to save.

Buried beneath betrayal and blood and shattered trust. Now there was only this... A woman searching for answers. A daughter searching for her family... A warrior searching for justice... And if those answers required blood... If justice demanded war... If revenge became the only path left before her... Then so be it!

I noticed her little altitude earlier, but I am not in the mood for her whining. I pulled up her contact once again and dialed it. Just then I saw someone running around in the hall. I turned to see what was going on. It looked like something huge was happening. I slid my pocket back into my pocket and walked back into the hall. I could see Damon’s daughter lying almost unconscious on a table. He stood right next to her. What has this little girl done this time around? The last time she was at the royal palace, she somehow managed to find her way to the warrior room and broke treasures and now she is lying here flat.

I had become a broken vessel, shattered and discarded, just like the windows of my soul. As I stood there, swaying on unsteady feet, I couldn't help but feel like a mere pile of mud, trampled on by the world around me. My spirit was fractured, my hope shattered. But deep down, buried beneath the layers of pain, a flicker of defiance remained. A small voice whispered, "Maybe, just maybe, there's a way to piece myself back together."