The night was anything but ordinary.
Moonlight spilled across the clearing like silver ink, casting long shadows that danced with every breeze. My breath came in ragged gasps—shallow, desperate. Each step sent sharp jolts up my legs, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not with the hunger twisting inside me—the one not even food could fix. A hunger for freedom. For power. For something more than just surviving.
But giving up? That was never an option.
From the edge of the packhouse, I watched the others shift. Their bodies contorted and cracked, fur bursting from skin in seamless waves. Black, silver, russet—an orchestra of dominance. One by one, they launched into the woods, howling like warriors heading into battle.
I shrank back, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I wasn't one of them. Not yet.
I didn't even realize I'd dropped to my knees until pain shot through my palms. The logs I'd gathered spilled across the dirt, useless now. I reached to collect them—only to gasp when a heavy boot landed hard on my hand.
A sharp crack echoed, and pain screamed up my arm.
I looked up.
Derick.
Luca's second-in-command stood over me with a twisted grin, like he'd been waiting all night for this.
"Well, well… What's wrong, little omega?" he sneered, crouching low.
He grabbed my chin, forcing my face toward his. His thumb brushed my cheek—almost gentle—then his nail scraped, just enough to sting.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered.
Then he laughed.
Not the warm kind. The kind that chills your blood.
Derick leaned in closer, his breath sour against my ear.
"I want you, little runt," he whispered, fingers curling around my waist.
Every instinct inside me screamed. To shove him. To scream. To shift and claw his smug face. But I stayed still, paralyzed—because reacting only made things worse.
Then, just as suddenly, he released me and stepped back with a smirk. "Stand up. Or I'll take what I want right here."
My legs shook as I pushed myself up. "I'm sorry," I breathed, hating how small I sounded.
Blood dripped from my split lip. The metallic taste burned as I swallowed it down. I didn't look up.
"Good girl," he muttered. "Don't let me catch you out here again."
His body shifted in a flash of dark fur and sharp claws. With a growl, he disappeared into the trees.
The moment he was gone, I dropped back to the ground, cradling my crushed hand. My chest heaved. My thoughts blurred.
This wasn't training. This wasn't strength-building. This was torment.
But I couldn't stop. I had to finish what I started.
I gathered the logs, ignoring the blood streaking the bark. The Alpha had ordered it. And if I failed…
I wouldn't just be punished.
I'd be exiled.
The sky darkened as I staggered toward the packhouse, every step heavy with exhaustion and pain. My wounded hand throbbed fiercely, but I pushed forward, desperate to finish the task.
Inside, the air was thick with musk and something darker—power, danger, control. I moved quickly, preparing dinner: searing steaks just right, whipping garlic mashed potatoes, lighting diffusers to mask the scent of fear clinging to my skin.
Then the heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Luca's voice followed, commanding and cold. My heart seized.
I ducked into the kitchen shadows, clutching my injured hand behind me. The door opened. Luca entered, Derrick trailing, both radiating dominance. The rest of the pack had already left.
Luca's silver eyes found me immediately.
"Lina," he said, voice sharp as a blade.
I forced myself to step forward, keeping my gaze low, hands trembling. His presence filled the room, suffocating and magnetic.
"You disappoint me," he said, voice low but burning. "Weakness is a disease in this pack."
I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Alpha. I'm trying."
He slammed a fist on the table. Plates jumped and clattered.
"Trying isn't enough."
Derrick smirked, watching me like I was prey.
I bit my lip, refusing to break.
Then Luca's hand brushed my injured one—soft, almost tender.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, eyes searching mine.
I hesitated, heart pounding. "I—I was afraid."
He frowned, something unreadable flickering before his cold mask returned.
"Fear will get you killed."
I wanted to run. To disappear. But I stayed.
Then Derrick cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"I'm done here," he said, standing.
Luca nodded, and Derrick left.
The room felt lighter, but Luca's gaze held me captive.
"I'm tired," I whispered.
"Stay," he said, voice low, almost gentle.
His hand found mine, pressing a warm kiss to my wounded skin.
I froze.
Was this care? Or control?
His lips lingered on my wounded hand, warm and tender, but the heat between us was tangled with something darker — a warning, a promise, a challenge.
I wanted to pull away, but my body betrayed me, frozen in a mixture of fear and something else I didn't dare name.
Luca's silver eyes bore into mine, searching, demanding.
"You're mine," he whispered, voice low but fierce. "And I don't tolerate weakness in what's mine."
A shiver ran through me — not from comfort, but from the sharp edge of control he wielded like a weapon.
"I want to believe you," I said, voice barely audible. "But… I'm scared."
He stepped closer, his breath brushing my cheek. "Good. Fear keeps you alive."
Before I could speak, the door burst open.
Derrick stood there, a cruel grin twisting his lips. "Alpha, you forgot something." He held up a small, bloodied piece of cloth — my torn sleeve.
Luca's eyes flashed with anger, but it was me he stared at.
"Explain this."
I swallowed hard, heart pounding so loud I was sure the whole packhouse could hear.
"I… I told you, it was an accident."
Derrick chuckled darkly, stepping inside.
"Accidents have consequences."
Luca's jaw clenched, tension thickening the air.
My breath caught.
I felt pains within my chest
The night had just begun — and I didn't know if I'd survive it.