Chapter 1 The Ghost’s Gambit: Zoey's POV

"Being the daughter of a legend doesn't make you a hero; in the Dust Pack, it just makes you a more expensive disappointment."

I stood in the center of the Great Hall, a heavy silver tray trembling in my hands.

Tonight was my sister Sarah’s Mating Feast. She had found her match and the pack was celebrating the union of two ‘perfect’ wolves.

I was the help.

"More wine, ghost," Sarah sneered as I passed her seat at the high table. She didn't even look at me. She just held out her crystal glass, her eyes locked on her mate.

"Of course, Sarah," I whispered.

"That's 'Future Luna Sarah' to you," she corrected, her voice loud enough to draw a few chuckles from the surrounding tables.

"But I suppose we can't expect a wolfless freak to understand manners."

I poured the wine, my face burning. At twenty, I should have been sitting where she was. I should have felt the pull of a fated bond. Instead, I felt nothing. No wolf purring in the back of my mind. No ability to shift.

My father, the Gamma of the Dust pack, stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the stone. The room fell silent. He was a huge man, scarred from a hundred battles, and tonight, he looked at me with deep shame.

"A toast!" my father barked, raising his golden goblet.

"To Sarah and her mate. May their pups be strong and their claws stay sharp."

"To Sarah!" the pack roared.

"And now," my father’s voice dropped, becoming cold. He turned his gaze toward me, and I felt like a bug under a boot.

"A matter of pack business. My youngest, Zoey, has reached her twentieth year without a shift or a mate. She is a drain on our rations and a shadow on our royal bloodline."

The silence in the room became painful. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

"I am officially opening bidding," my father continued, his words like daggers.

"Is there any male—low-rank, omega, or laborer—who will take her? I don't care about the price. I just want her off my books. She is unmated, wolfless, and useless. Who will take this burden from me?"

A cruel laugh erupted from the back of the hall.

"I’ve got an old barn that needs cleaning, Gamma! But I don't think she has the muscle for it!"

"I'll take her," another voice shouted, "but only if she stays downwind! A wolf without a scent is just a bad omen!"

The humiliation was a physical weight, crushing the air out of my lungs. I looked at my mother, but she was busy adjusting her silk shawl, refusing to meet my eyes.

I was being sold like a defective horse at a Sunday market.

"Does nobody want her?" my father asked, his voice dripping with disgust.

"Not even for a night's work?"

The doors to the Great Hall flew open.

The heavy oak timber splintered inward, the shards flying like shrapnel. Before the dust could even settle, the screaming started.

Our warriors didn't even have time to stand.

"Stay where you are!" a voice thundered, vibrating in my very bones.

Everything stopped. In the doorway stood a man who looked like he had been forged in the fires of hell. He was tall, his shoulders broad enough to block out the night behind him. He wore dark leather and a crown of arrogance.

This was Klaus. The Alpha of Moonhill.

Our Beta, a brave but foolish man named Dan, lunged forward with a snarl.

"You dare invade—"

Klaus didn't even shift. He moved faster than my eyes could follow. In one fluid motion, he caught Marcus by the throat, lifted him off the ground, and snapped his neck like a dry twig.

The body hit the floor with a dull thud.

"I didn't come here for a conversation," Klaus said, stepping over the corpse as he walked toward the high table. He sat on our Alpha’s throne, kicking the old alpha Raymond aside.

"I came for tribute. Your pack has been encroaching on my borders. I was going to kill you all... but I’m feeling bored tonight. What will you give me to stay my hand?"

My father was trembling. The ‘legendary’ Gamma was on his knees.

"We have gold, Alpha Klaus. We have land—"

"I have enough land to bury you all twice over," Klaus interrupted, his eyes scanning the room with utter boredom.

"I want something precious. Something that hurts to give away."

He looked at Sarah. She shrieked and hid behind her mate. Klaus sneered.

"Weak. I don't want a coward."

I don't know what possessed me. Perhaps it was the hours of humiliation. Perhaps it was the realization that my own father had just tried to sell me to a laborer for a loaf of bread. I stepped forward, the silver tray still in my hand.

"Take me," I said.

The hall went so quiet I could hear the crackle of the torches on the walls.

Klaus’s eyes snapped to mine. They were dark.

"You?"

"Zoey, shut up!" my father hissed.

"No," I said, looking Klaus dead in the eye.

"You want something that hurts? My father just told this entire room how much he hates me. But I am still royal blood. I am the Gamma’s daughter. Take me as your pet. Not a mate or a guest. I will submit to you completely. I will do whatever you command, no matter how low. Just leave them alone."

Klaus tilted his head. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

"A royal offering herself as a pet? That is... unusual. Your people call you useless, little one. Why would I want a broken toy?"

"Because a broken toy doesn't fight back," I whispered. "And I have nothing left to lose."

Klaus stood up and walked toward me. He stopped right in front of me and reached out, his hand wrapping around my throat to tilt my head back.

The moment his skin touched mine, a jolt of electricity surged through my body.

Klaus gasped, his fingers tightening slightly.

"You are a strange little thing," he murmured, his voice now a low growl. He turned to my father.

"I’ll take her. The debt is paid. If I see a single Dust wolf on my lands again, I will come back and peel the skin from your bones."

He gripped my arm and began to drag me toward the shattered doors. My father didn't stop him. Sarah didn't look up. They were happy to see me go.

We stepped out into the freezing night air. Klaus was moving fast, his grip iron-tight. But suddenly, he stopped. He went completely still, his nostrils flaring.

He turned to me and sniffed my hair.

"What is that?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

I shook my head. Completely ignorant about what he was asking.

"What have you done to me, little mouse?" he growled.