ARIA'S POV
I know I'm going to die today.
Twenty of us stand in a line at the edge of Silvercrest territory. Dawn breaks cold and gray over the forest, and nobody's pretending this is anything but what it is—a death sentence.
"First wave," my father announced last night, his eyes sliding past me like I wasn't worth looking at. "You twenty will lead the attack on Nightshade border at sunrise."
First wave. Everyone knows what that means. The weakest wolves, sent to "test enemy defenses." Translation: sent to die while the real warriors watch and learn from our deaths.
I'm twenty-three years old, and my own father just ordered my execution.
"Aria."
I turn. My sister Vivienne stands behind me, beautiful and perfect as always. Her wolf is twice my size. Her strength could snap me in half. She's everything I'm not, and I've spent my whole life trying not to hate her for it.
She pulls me into a hug. "Be brave, little sister," she whispers against my hair. "Make us proud."
I want to scream at her. Want to ask if she knows—if she helped plan this. But her arms feel warm, and I'm so cold, and maybe this is the last time anyone will touch me with anything like kindness.
"I'll try," I whisper back.
She pulls away, and I see something flicker in her eyes. Pity? Guilt? It's gone before I can name it.
"Aria." My brother Dante appears, all rippling muscle and casual cruelty. He grins at me. Actually grins. "Try not to embarrass the family name when you die, yeah?"
My wolf snarls inside me, wanting to rip that smile off his face. But I shove her down like I always do. Fighting Dante gets me nowhere except bloody and broken on the training ground floor.
"I'll do my best," I say flatly.
He laughs and walks away.
I look at the nineteen wolves lined up with me. The old. The small. The injured. The pack's throwaways. We're all going to die, and everyone knows it.
A horn sounds.
My father—Alpha Marcus Silvercrest—strides onto the ridge overlooking our position. He doesn't look at me. Hasn't really looked at me in years, not since I shifted late at sixteen instead of thirteen like normal wolves. Not since it became clear I'd never be strong enough to make him proud.
"Warriors of Silvercrest!" His voice carries across the dawn. "Today we strike at the heart of our enemies! Today we show Nightshade that we do not fear them!"
The real warriors—the strong ones—howl in response. They're positioned safely behind us, ready to charge after we've all been slaughtered.
"First wave!" My father's eyes finally find mine. Cold. Dismissive. Done with me. "Attack!"
No speech for us. No honor. Just attack and die.
The wolves around me shift—bones cracking, fur sprouting, forms changing. I close my eyes and reach for my wolf. She's there, like always. Small. Quick. Silver-furred and violet-eyed and wrong according to everyone who's ever seen her.
I shift. The change burns through me, and then I'm on four legs instead of two. My wolf form barely reaches the shoulders of the wolves around me.
Weak. Broken. Worthless.
The words I've heard my whole life echo in my head.
A second horn sounds. The attack signal.
The wolves around me charge forward. Toward Nightshade territory. Toward the enemy who's killed hundreds of our pack. Toward certain death.
I should run. Should turn around and flee and at least die trying to escape instead of dying because I was too obedient to save myself.
But where would I go? Rogues don't last long alone. And some pathetic part of me still wants to make my father proud. Still thinks maybe if I fight hard enough, brave enough, he'll finally see me as something other than a disappointment.
I'm an idiot.
I run.
The forest blurs around me. My packmates spread out, heading for the border marked by ancient stones half a mile ahead. My wolf is smaller but faster—I pull ahead without meaning to.
The stones come into view. Beyond them, Nightshade territory begins. Dark forest. Enemy land.
We cross the border.
For five heartbeats, nothing happens.
Then the trees explode with wolves.
Nightshade warriors pour out of the shadows—massive, organized, clearly waiting for us. This wasn't an attack. This was a trap. And my father sent us into it knowing we'd all die.
The wolf beside me goes down, throat ripped out before he can even fight back. Blood sprays across my fur.
All around me, my packmates are dying. Screaming. Begging.
A Nightshade warrior lunges at me. I dodge—barely—and his claws rake across my shoulder instead of my throat. Pain explodes through me, but I'm already moving, already running because I'm too small to fight these wolves and too smart to try.
I leap over a fallen log, duck under a snapping jaw, twist away from reaching claws. My heart hammers against my ribs. Blood runs hot down my leg.
I'm going to die. Just like my father planned. Just like everyone expected.
A howl shatters the air—deeper than any wolf's howl should be. It vibrates in my bones, makes my wolf freeze instinctively.
The fighting stops. Even the Nightshade warriors pause, turning toward the sound.
Something moves through the trees. Something huge.
A wolf steps into view, and my breath stops.
He's massive—easily twice the size of any wolf I've ever seen. His fur is pure black, rippling with muscle and raw power. But it's his eyes that freeze me in place.
Ice-blue. Cold. Deadly.
Those eyes scan the battlefield, counting bodies, assessing threats. When they land on me, everything inside me goes still.
The giant black wolf's lips pull back, showing teeth designed to tear me apart.
He moves toward me with lethal grace.
I'm too tired to run. Too hurt to fight.
This is it. This is how I die—not from some random warrior, but from what has to be their Alpha. Kael Nightshade himself.
The monster who's killed hundreds of my packmates.
He closes the distance between us in three powerful strides. His growl rumbles through the ground.
I bare my teeth anyway. If I'm dying, I'm dying with fangs out.
The black wolf lunges.
I close my eyes.
His weight slams into me, driving me to the ground. His massive paw pins my chest. I feel his hot breath on my throat, his jaws opening—
Our eyes meet.
The world stops.