MORANA
Tears spring into my eyes, clouding my vision. Instantly, his expression darkens.
"What? Are you rebelling now?" He crouches, one hand on his knee while his other grabs my face with punishing force. His calloused fingers dig into my jaw.
'Pak'
The slap comes first. Then another.
'Pak'
My face whips to the side and my vision flashes white as the floor tilts. I can hear the ringing in my ears as my head hangs low.
"That's better," he snarls, "Keep your head down and mouth shut. Just two more days, Morana. Pray to the Moon Goddess he's your mate. Because if he is not…" He straightens, "There is no place in the world for a wretched whore like you."
Every word he utters stabs into me like a poisonous thorn. His footsteps retreat. My ears are buzzing, but I catch the sound of the door shutting.
For a few seconds, I lie there, unmoving.
"Cousin! Morana!"
A beautiful face comes into my view as Julia cradles me into her arms, "How could he do this to you?" Her voice breaks. "You just healed. And he—"
"Help me... to my room," I whisper. My stomach burns. My ribs ache. But my voice stays steadier than I expect it to be.
She manages to half-carry me to my bed, her arms trembling under my weight. The moment I collapse onto the mattress, she bursts into tears again.
"You can't let this keep happening. I'll go to the Alpha. I'll beg for an audience. He'll listen to me, he—he loves you!" She turns to leave.
Panic strikes me and I lunge forward, catching the hem of her sleeve before she can leave. "No," I gasp. "No… don't."
Julia halts, eyes wide with tears. After a moment, she slumps on the bed beside me, "What are you so afraid of? The Alpha loves you more than anything. He will protect you from uncle. Nobody else can stand against the Beta and you know that. Then why are you… stopping me?"
Looking at the concern on Julia's face, I lift my trembling hand to cup her cheek. After losing her parents at a young age, Julia grew up with me. Despite being cousins, the bond we share is deeper than blood and we are closer than sisters.
"Dad will abandon me." I don't explain further, but the way Julia's eyes widen, the way her fingers go still on my arm... she already understands.
Not just once, but too many times to count, I've come close to breaking. Some nights were worse than death, especially when your body bruises too easily and you are constantly treated as trash. A year ago, I had finally made up my mind. I was going to tell Zacreus everything.
But then father's words gutted what little courage I had managed to piece together—
"If anyone finds out what happens inside these walls, you'll take the fall for it. I'll throw you into the wild myself, Morana. You'll become a rogue. And you know what happens to rogues."
The outcasts. The hunted. The ones whose corpses are picked apart by hungry wolves and rumors alike. If I'm cast out, how can I ever stand beside Zacreus? How can I ever be his Luna?
Even if he accepts me, will the Blackbane pack let me in as their Luna? Will it be worth it for him to sacrifice his name, his rule, and his future for someone like me?
The answer has always been: no. Never.
So, all I can do now is endure and... wait.
Two days later, my wait is finally over.
It's my birthday, the day I awaken my wolf and chose my mate.
And coincidentally, or maybe fatefully, it's also the night of the Moonrise Gala. The Moonrise Gala is an auspicious mating ceremony where one's fate is decided and young ones find their mates.
The Gala is one of the grandest annual events of Frostmere amongst all the four packs of East, West, North and South.
This year, the duties have fallen on Blackbane Pack of the West with Zacreus, the youngest Alpha being the host.
Outside, Frostmere glows under a pale, silvery moon. The entire Blackbane territory is cloaked in celebration.
Servants rush up and down the halls, flowers are scattered across the floors, and laughter rings through corridors I usually walk alone in silence.
But the celebration doesn't reach the Beta's residence which is cold as always.
Other than sending me new healing salves for the past two days and commanding me to heal my wounds before the Gala, Dad hasn't spoken a single word to me.
By the time I'm dressed, corseted into a gown too tight around my ribs, my hair coiled into a style that shows the pale stretch of my neck, Dad appears at my door.