ROYAL WOLF

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming Kickass Heroine Comeback Revenge

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I stood in the rain, watching my ex-mate place fresh white roses next to a toxic silver chain on my headstone.

The epitaph read *Beloved Daughter*, which was laughable.

Five years ago, I called my father from a mangled car wreckage, bleeding out. Instead of sending an ambulance, he asked if the car was salvageable.

Then Clayton took the phone. He didn't offer help. He used the Alpha Command to reject me while I was dying, all because I was a "weak" wolf and his new favorite, Ainsley, needed his attention.

They left me to die in the gutter to protect their reputation.

Tonight, I walked into their desperate charity gala, wearing a dress worth more than their entire failing pack.

My father didn't weep with relief at my resurrection. He looked at me like a stain on his carpet.

"You ungrateful brat!" my aunt shrieked, slapping me across the face hard enough to draw blood. "You were supposed to stay dead! You're ruining Ainsley's night!"

They signaled security to dump me in the alley, thinking I was still the powerless girl they broke.

They didn't notice the air in the ballroom turn heavy with ozone. They didn't feel the crushing weight of a true predator entering the room.

Until the double doors exploded inward.

A man with eyes like molten gold stepped through the dust, his terrifying aura forcing every wolf in the room to their knees.

He looked at the red mark on my cheek and let out a roar that shook the chandeliers.

"WHO TOUCHED MY MATE?!"

My father trembled on the floor, looking between the enraged Alpha King and me. "Mate? But... she is nothing."

I smiled, my eyes flashing silver.

"Hello, husband," I whispered. "Let the execution begin."

Chapter 1

Ivy POV:

The rain in the Dillard Pack territory always smelled like *wet rot and decay*. It was a fitting scent for a place dying from the inside out.

I stepped out of my black SUV, my combat boots sinking slightly into the mud. I adjusted the collar of my trench coat, ensuring the heavy silver chain around my neck was hidden.

*It wasn't just jewelry. It was a cloak, forged by the Alpha King's own alchemist.*

As long as I wore it, I was a ghost. No scent. No aura. To the noses of the wolves guarding these borders, I was nothing more than a passing shadow.

I walked up the hill toward the family cemetery. The iron gates groaned as I pushed them open, a sound that grated against my heightened hearing.

There it was.

A slab of gray marble, cold and unfeeling, just like the people who put it there.

*Ivy Dillard. Beloved Daughter. Tragic Victim.*

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. The sound was swallowed by the wind.

"Beloved," I whispered, tracing the letters with a gloved finger. "That's rich."

At the base of the headstone lay a bouquet of plastic lilies, their colors faded by the sun, and a silver necklace.

I stared at the silver chain.

*Silver burns us. It sears the skin and poisons the blood. Placing it on a wolf's grave isn't an offering; it's a curse. A guarantee the spirit never finds the Clearing.*

"Still trying to hurt me, even when you think I'm dead," I muttered.

My inner wolf stirred. She was not the weak, dormant creature she had been five years ago. She was large, ancient, and currently very angry.

*Calm down,* I told her silently. *Not yet.*

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