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The moonlight bathed the Silver Crest Pack grounds in a ghostly glow, illuminating every stone, every breath of wind, every trembling soul caught in the spectacle. Clara stood in the center of the courtyard, barefoot, her once-white dress torn and stained with dirt, blood, and humiliation. Around her, the pack gathered in a circle silent, watching, hungry for drama like wolves before a kill.
She didn’t cry. Not anymore. There were no more tears left.
Alpha Lucas stood on the raised dais, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes colder than the frost on winter trees. He looked down at her like she was something stuck beneath his boots annoying, useless, easily discarded.
“She disrespected the Alpha command,” he said, his voice calm, almost bored. “She wandered outside her duties, again.”
“She went into the northern woods,” Beta Connor added, stepping forward. “The borders.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Clara raised her chin. “I only went to look for herbs. An elder was sick. I was helping ”
“You do not help when you are not asked,” Lucas interrupted, descending the steps with lethal grace. “You are a stray mutt in this pack, Clara. No wolf. No rank. No purpose.”
Clara’s voice cracked, “I am still one of you.”
Lucas stopped inches from her, towering over her slender frame. His eyes, the color of midnight, scanned her face with quiet disdain. “You were given a roof out of mercy. Not because you earned it.”
She held his gaze just for a moment and that defiance lit something in him. His jaw clenched.
“Alpha,” someone murmured behind them, “maybe we’ve punished her enough for tonight.”
But Lucas wasn’t finished. “Kneel.”
Clara flinched. “No.”
It was soft. Barely audible. But it stunned the courtyard.
Whispers.
Lucas’s face didn’t change, but his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “What did you say?”
“I said no,” Clara breathed. Her knees trembled, but she didn’t bend. Not this time. “You can humiliate me, starve me, strip me of everything but I won’t kneel.”
For a moment, silence. The whole pack held its breath.
Then Lucas struck her.
A backhand across the cheek so sudden, so vicious, Clara’s body spun before she crashed to the ground, cheek blazing red with the sting of his palm. Her lips bled, the metallic tang flooding her mouth.
Someone in the crowd gasped. Someone else turned away.
Lucas looked around at the faces. “Anyone else forget who’s Alpha?”
Silence.
He turned back to Clara. “Take her to the cells. Let her rot until the next moon.”
Two guards moved toward her.
But then it happened.
The wind shifted.
A pulse of something strange crackled through the air, like static before a storm. Clara’s breath hitched. Her skin burned. Her heart pounded. Her veins buzzed.
And then the ground trembled.
The torches lining the courtyard flared, their flames licking higher. Leaves swirled violently around her, caught in a sudden whirlwind. The guards froze, hesitating.
Clara’s eyes glowed silver.
She didn’t understand it. Couldn’t control it. But something inside her something long dormant was awakening.
The crowd began to murmur. Beta Connor took a cautious step back.
Lucas narrowed his eyes. “What the hell…”
Clara didn’t wait to find out.
She ran.
She sprinted through the trees, heart slamming against her ribs, branches clawing at her skin. The forest was alive tonight wind screaming, shadows dancing. Behind her, she could hear them shouting, chasing, the pounding of footsteps echoing her terror.
She didn’t stop.