Two Weeks Before the Full Moon
Age 22
The moss-crusted steps leading to
Silverfang Manor looked like the bones of the mountain itself—cracked, damp,
and ancient, forgotten by time but never by memory. My boots, scuffed from
years of wear, made uneasy contact with the stone, each step sounding like a
question the ground hadn't decided whether to answer.
The air clung thick to my skin. It
smelled like pine needles crushed underfoot, like wet bark and old rot. There
was no breeze, no birdsong—just that eerie stillness you only find in places
too old to be quiet by accident. The forest behind me held its breath, and the
manor ahead loomed like something exhaled from a darker world. Its towers
jabbed at the overcast sky like broken weapons, jagged and unforgiving,
throwing long shadows that swallowed every inch of approaching light.
I hesitated at the base of those
steps, my fingers twitching at my sides. My dress clung uncomfortably to my
skin—deep green, simple, cheap, but enough to make me look like I was trying.
The pendant around my neck, a silver crescent moon etched with old runes, felt
heavier than it ever had. It pulsed faintly with warmth, like it was
remembering something even if I wasn't.
This wasn't home.
I'd grown up far from this place, in a
shoebox apartment where walls were paper-thin and nothing belonged to you
unless you were willing to fight for it. The lullabies were honking horns,
arguing neighbors, and the occasional distant howl that no one dared talk
about. It was ugly, but it was mine.
Silverfang wasn't just a different
world—it was a different kind of world. One where bloodlines still mattered,
where titles came with teeth, and where someone like me—an omega from a
disgraced house—had no right to even breathe the same air as an alpha like
Darius Blackthorne.
But I was here. Because I had no
choice.
My father, once a beta of high
standing, had burned every bridge when he sold pack secrets to a rival
clan—names and routes, weaknesses and blood. The betrayal shattered everything.
They didn't just cast him out. They erased him. Ripped his rank away like skin
from bone, dragged our name through the dirt, and left my family gasping for
breath in the wreckage. My mother never recovered. Some said her heart gave
out. I think it just broke and never found a reason to keep beating.
Kael, my older brother, did what he
could. He carried us both, shouldering my father's sins like they were weights
made just for him. And when even he started buckling under the strain, he made
a deal with the devils in silver robes—the pack elders. He begged. He
bargained. He promised them a silent, obedient omega bride. Someone who
wouldn't make waves. Someone who could be bound to Darius Blackthorne and
forgotten.
He promised them me.
So here I was, climbing those ancient
stairs, dragging the weight of my father's shame behind me like a chain. I told
myself this was a new beginning. A chance to clean the slate. I told myself I
could endure whatever came next.
But something deep inside me whispered
that this place didn't forget, and it sure as hell didn't forgive.
The courtyard was full. Cloaked
figures crowded the space, their hoods pulled low, voices murmuring beneath the
soft rustle of falling leaves. They stood like sentinels, all eyes trained on
me. Curious. Cold. Measuring. I didn't recognize any of them, but I didn't need
to. I knew exactly what they saw: a nobody girl from a traitor's bloodline,
trying to crawl her way into a seat she didn't earn.
My throat felt tight. My fingers
fidgeted at my sides, curling into my skirt. I straightened, lifted my chin
like I'd watched the high-born women do in the old days, back when my father
still had friends. Back when our name didn't make people flinch.
The manor doors groaned open above me,
the sound ancient and aching. I climbed the last step and crossed the threshold
into a hall that felt like the inside of a tomb. Candlelight flickered along
the walls, sending shadows dancing across snarling wolf carvings and etched
crescent moons. The ceiling arched like a cathedral, high and proud and
terrifying.
At the far end stood Darius
Blackthorne.
He was taller than I expected.
Broader. The kind of man who looked carved out of storms. His black suit was
sharp and custom-cut, hugging muscle and menace in equal measure. A scar ran
across his jaw, like something had tried to silence him and failed. His
eyes—gray and cold—locked onto mine and held them. There was no warmth there.
No welcome.
Just judgment.
Beside him stood Seraphina Voss,
golden-haired and flame-dressed, every inch of her radiating the kind of power
that didn't come from a title. Her lips curled into a smile that wasn't a smile
at all—more like a dare. She leaned in close, whispered something into Darius's
ear, and his jaw clenched.
Kael stood nearby, tense. His eyes met
mine for a moment—just one heartbeat—and I saw it. Regret. Fear. The weight of
every desperate choice he'd made.
The elders gathered around, their
silver ceremonial robes gleaming like frost in the candlelight. They began to
chant in the old tongue, the language of the moon and the first bloodlines. The
sound echoed through the stone, rising and falling like the tide.
I was guided to the center of the
hall, my boots clicking on cold stone. Every step echoed too loud. My heart
pounded, thundering in my ears.
Darius stepped forward.
He reached for my hand.
His fingers touched mine—then
tightened. Not gently. Not kindly. He held my hand like a man grabbing the edge
of a cliff, caught between two choices he hated.
And then he dropped it.
Like it disgusted him.
"She's unfit," he said, voice like
broken glass. "Liora Kane, daughter of a traitor, has no place as my mate."
The chant cut off. Silence slammed
into the room like a blow.
My breath caught. My stomach twisted.
"No," Kael blurted, stepping forward.
"Darius, please, don't—"
An elder raised his hand, silencing
him.
"She carries the stain of her father's
betrayal," Darius continued, unmoved. "The Silverfang Pack deserves better."
His eyes didn't even flicker.
Seraphina smiled wider, her hand
curling around his arm like a flag being planted. Victory.
The whispers started. Then the murmurs
turned sharp. Faces I didn't know turned away, some sneering, some pitying.
I stood there, frozen. My skin burned
with humiliation, but the pendant at my throat burned hotter.
A sudden jolt of pain stabbed through
my chest. I gasped, grabbing at the pendant. It felt alive—like it was burning
through me from the inside.
Then the growl came.
Low. Rough. Mine.
My knees gave out. I hit the ground
hard. A snarl tore out of my throat—my wolf, silent for six years, clawing its
way back into the world.
The crowd stilled.
Kael was at my side in seconds, pale
and frantic. "Liora! What's happening?"
"I don't know," I whispered, voice
shaking. "I don't—"
The pendant pulsed again. Magic rolled
off it in waves. I could feel it in my blood, in my bones. My mother's voice
flashed across my memory, lips moving in silence. Her eyes full of warnings I'd
never understood.
I looked up. Darius was still staring.
But the arrogance was gone. In its place—something else. Hesitation. Maybe even
fear.
Then Seraphina leaned in, whispered
again, and just like that, he turned away.
The elders shouted. The pack
scattered. Kael dragged me to my feet, and we stumbled out of the hall, the
door slamming shut behind us.
I ran. I didn't think. I just ran.
Through the courtyard. Into the
forest. Branches tore at my dress. My hair snagged on thorns. The pendant
flared hot enough to scorch, and that voice in my head—the wolf—howled for
freedom.
I collapsed against a tree, gasping.
The runes on the pendant shimmered, and for a moment, I saw her—Mom. A flash. A
whisper. A warning.
Then darkness again.
A twig snapped.
I turned.
The forest behind me pulsed with
wrongness. Not just danger—evil. And I wasn't alone.
A figure stepped out from the trees.
Too large. Too smooth. Its eyes glowed like dying coals.
Not a wolf. Not a man.
A monster.
And it spoke. Not aloud—but straight
into my mind.
You're awake, little omega.
And so am I.
The pendant exploded with light.
And the beast lunged.