Chapter 3
I told no one.
Not where I was going. Not what I intended to do.
Because Lil Pack was my home. And my family was still there—at least, what was left of them. No matter what it had become. No matter what the danger.
I had to go back.
The journey tore me apart. I crossed miles of frozen forest, waded through black, ice-choked rivers, and crept past Bloodfang patrols with my heart hammering in my throat. Twice, I was almost caught—once when a sentry’s torchlight brushed over my shoulder, and once when a wolf’s howl answered my own suppressed scream. My hands were raw and bleeding, my boots filled with ice water, but I pushed forward.
Until I reached the place that had once been my home.
And found it unrecognizable.
Bodies lay where they had fallen, stiff in the snow, their eyes frozen open. Blood ran in thin, jagged rivers beneath the ice.
I had prepared myself for this. I told myself I was ready. I wasn’t.
My knees buckled. My breath caught in my throat until it burned.
Above the gates, two heads hung high on iron spikes—my father and my brother. Their faces were locked in the moment of death, eyes wide, tears of frozen blood streaking down their cheeks.
Below them, snow had drifted over a mound of bodies—warriors, elders, children. My people.
Drunken Bloodfang soldiers stumbled among the ruins, tearing open homes, stealing anything of value—gold, silver, jars of rare wolf medicine—laughing while they desecrated everything I had ever known.
The cold air stank of smoke and rot. It filled my lungs until I wanted to scream. Instead, I knelt in frozen blood, my fingers closing around the hilt of a broken sword.
And I dug.
The ground was hard as stone, but I kept going—splitting my skin, tearing my nails down to nothing—because I had to bury what was left of them. Even if it was only bones. Even if it was only a scrap of cloth.
I was placing a final stone on the grave when the sound of hooves broke through the silence.
A silver wolf-fur cloak swept into view, its hem brushing over my fresh marker. A heavy military boot crunched on top of it, scattering the stones.
Alexander.
He tilted his head, his silver-grey eyes glinting in the pale light. "So," he drawled, "the stray dog found its way back to the kennel."
My jaw locked.
"My Luna," he added with a sneer, "you’re quite the runner."
A bitter taste rose in my throat. I curled my bloodied fingers into my palms until I felt my own nails pierce skin.
Lily, my wolf, snarled low in my mind. But the crushing weight of his Alpha aura slammed her into silence.
Alexander crouched in front of me, gripping the back of my neck hard enough to bruise. "Look at you now," he said softly. "Like a wild dog."
Another set of hooves. Then Lilian appeared, dismounting in a sweep of mink fur. The moonstone necklace caught the pale sunlight, winking like an accusation.
She stepped forward—deliberately planting her heel on the wolf-totem handkerchief my mother had embroidered for me—and twisted it deeper into the snow.
My blood went cold.
Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped her. The sound cracked in the air.
Alexander moved so fast I barely saw him. His hand locked around my throat, and then my back slammed into the wall of the ruined gate.
The world tilted. Pain exploded at the base of my skull.
"How dare you touch her!" His voice was a snarl, his beautiful eyes sharp with fury.
Something inside me broke. All the grief I’d been shoving down since that night came roaring up.
Then—Slap!
His palm smashed across my face. The sting was instant, followed by a heavy, hot swell across my cheek.
Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. A stabbing pain bloomed in my lower abdomen, sharp enough to steal my breath. My vision swam, narrowing to the cold, satisfied curve of Lilian’s smile.
And then—nothing.
When I woke up, it was dark.
The air was colder here, the scent of different earthy, damp. My eyes adjusted to the flickering glow of a small fire. This wasn’t the street where I’d fallen. It was a cave.
A cave I knew.
My parents had once hidden here in their youth, when the pack was at war.
I didn’t know who had brought me. I didn’t have the strength to wonder.
Gold and jewels were scattered across the floor like someone had dumped a stolen treasure hoard and left it. I barely saw them. All I felt was the faint, fleeting comfort of being somewhere… safe.
For a moment.
The door—an old, warped wooden slab—slammed open.
Alexander stood there, his cloak hanging askew, the stench of alcohol rolling off him in waves. His eyes—those cold, silver-grey eyes—were bloodshot.
"Get up."
Before I could move, he ripped the quilt from me and yanked me to my feet.
"Alexander”
"Shut up." His grip was iron. "You’re coming with me. I want every one of our enemies to see just how promiscuous Lil Pack’s precious princess really is."
I froze. "What?"
He sneered, tearing off his armor piece by piece. "Tell me—whose child are you really carrying?"
