Chapter one: Silver thread and Blood

The Ironclaw Pack’s ceremonial clearing was alive with this antsy buzz, everyone itching for something big. The full moon hung up there like a fat, nosy spotlight, catching all these werewolves still human-shaped, chatting and milling around. Their eyes had this yellow flicker—creepy little hints of the monsters they’d turn into later. Tonight’s the night I’m supposed to tie myself to Alpha Dean, big shot of these woods. Lucky me, huh.  

Yeah, right.  

I stand at the center of the clearing, the silver threaded gown clinging to my skin like a second pelt, itchy and restrictive. My long dark hair braided with moonflowers, a tradition I’d mocked earlier to my best friend, Mira, who rolled her eyes and told me to suck it up. “You look like a goddess” she’d said. “Act like one.” Easy for her to say- she wasn’t the one about to pledge her life to a man who treated her like a prized trophy.

Dean stands across from me, tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, his golden hair standing out among other males near him. To the pack, he was perfection-strong, decisive, a born leader. To me, he was just a proud son of a bitch who wanted nothing more than to put his golden-haired babies in me. His eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of something-pride, maybe, or possession. Not love. Never love. I forced a smile, but it felt like baring fangs. 

The pack elder, Old Galen, raised his gnarled hands, silencing the murmurs. His voice rasped like dry leaves, carrying the weight of centuries.

“Under the moon’s blessing, we gather to witness the bonding of Alpha Dean of the Ironclaw pack and Selene whose parents sacrificed their lives for us all, we shall never see their like again”

“We shall never see their like again” the whole pack echoes.

Suddenly, I’m a little girl again, standing at the edge of this very clearing, watching as my parents and the other werewolves prepare for battle.

The memory is etched in my mind like a scar, a constant reminder of the sacrifices made by those I loved.

There’s my mom, standing tall and badass, eyes shining like stars you’d wish on—she was gorgeous. My dad, tough as nails, all heart and ready to guard us no matter what. They’re with the other wolves, faces hard, bodies wound tight, waiting for it.  

Then the enemy pack busts out of the trees, eyes glowing this freaky, hungry red. The air’s crackling as they square off, growls bouncing around the woods like a bad storm rolling in.  

My parents shift—wolfed out—and they’re fighting like hell, dodging and ripping through those bastards like it’s nothing.  

The enemy pack won't quit, They are way too many to count. They pour into the clearing, a tsunami of teeth and claws. I see my mother, her gray fur stained with blood, as she takes down an enemy wolf with a swift bite to the throat. My father, his eyes blazing with fury, leaps into the fray, his jaws snapping shut just inches from an enemy’s face.

The battle rages on, the sound of snarling and yelping filling the air. I’m frozen in terror, unable to move or look away. The werewolves are evenly matched, but the rival pack’s sheer numbers begin to take their toll.

My father and mother are the last ones standing and fighting with every thing they’ve got. As I watch in horror, my father is outnumbered and falls to the ground, his body broken and battered. My mother’s eyes lock onto his, and then for a moment, time seems to freeze. Then, a sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard before rips through the air.

My mother’s body begins to glow with a fierce, otherworldly energy. Her eyes blaze with a fury that’s both terrifying and heartbreaking. She turns to the remaining enemy wolves and unleashes a sonic howl that shakes the very foundation of the earth.

The sound is like nothing I’ve heard before. It’s as if the very fabric of reality is being torn apart. The enemy werewolves stumble backward, their eyes wide with shock and pain. Some of them turn back to their human form and clutch at their ears, their eardrums ruptured by the sheer force of my mother’s howl.

But the howl does more than just cause pain. It’s as if my mother’s rage and grief have become a physical force, one that ruptures internal organs and shatter bone. The enemy werewolves begin to fall, their bodies torn apart by the sonic wave.

Her howl finally fades away, leaving behind a silence that’s almost deafening. She stumbles forward; her eyes fixed on my father’s body. She reaches out a trembling paw to touch his face, and then she collapses to the ground, her own body broken and battered.

I rush to her side, tears streaming down my face. I nuzzle her gently, trying to comfort her, but its too late. Her eyes flicker open, and she looks up at me with a faint smile.

"I'm sorry, little one," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. But know that you possess a gift that only few of us have ever wielded; you must learn to control it.

I’m suddenly jolted back to reality by the loud howling signaling the beginning of the mating dance.

The pack’s females, their bodies glowing with a soft, lunar light, begin to weave through the crowd, their eyes locked on potential mates. The males, their muscles rippling beneath their skin, respond to the females’ advances. They engage in a primal dance, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the forest.

 

Dean locks eyes with me, taking long, deliberate and calculated strides towards me and I stand tall eyes locked onto his. The pack watch in silence as we begin to circle each other, his movements slow and inviting, he grabs me and pulls me close.

His eyes flash with a fierce, golden light as he marks me with a bite, sharp and careless, claiming me like livestock and not as gentle or erotic as I had imagined and I give a fake moan to bolster his ego. 

All that remains now is to be sealed in blood and I’ll be his brood mare forever. There's only one problem. I can’t go through with this.