Chapter One: Before You Leave

The twigs on the earth snap painfully beneath my bare feet.

Three...no, five wolves are after me.

The cold air whips painfully against my body, which is in no way dressed for this tragedy of my desperate run through the woods towards no definitive destination.

My shift to my wolf form would take time; like most late bloomers, it still hurts having every bone in my body break and reform, so from the crashed car to where I am now, I maintain my human form.

The wetness smearing between my toes as my step finds damp, decayed leaves feel gross—it didn’t rain yesterday, so only the Goddess knows what the source of the slime is. Still, I have no time to cringe; rather, the exhaustion burning through my flesh doesn’t give me the time to.

The tear of my sundress sounds in the air, followed closely by the breaking of weak branches as I navigate the narrow space in the evening’s darkness.

A dull throb slices through my thigh just as I make it to the other side of the thicket.

“No…No!”

I whisper desperately as if that would be enough to stop the scent of my blood from lingering in the air.

Regeneration is where my prowess lies, but even that takes time, time and focus, both of which I do not have.

“Fuck!”

With the curse loud in the air, I turn to continue my run, only my body pulls to a startling halt, and two pebbles I kick roll over the cliff, emphasising the way down.

Through the thick adrenaline pumping in my veins...a laugh finds my lips before tears soon follow.

My hair, the same one I gave extra care to in the morning, settles messily on my damp skin as the pounding of my heart rings in my ears; for a moment, it almost feels as if the snarls behind me are further back; but they are not.

I can smell my driver’s cologne from right behind me.

Great, before me, is an unforgivingly stiff cliff that seems to descend straight to hell, and behind me are my pursuers.

With them, there is always a chance of clumsiness, so I turn to face the wolves.

Three, with two lurking behind the thicket I just leapt from, their luminous eyes pinning me in place.

“Who sent you, Simon?”

A foolish question to pose to my driver, but it feels better than asking, ‘why?’

I have far too many enemies for my mind to settle on one, so if I just know who, I can place the why?

"You should know better than anyone else the answer to that question.”

Should I?

"I am leaving the Kingdom. Isn't it enough that-"

I yell, but a stillness cuts me off as the people meant to protect me bare their teeth.

Good God, they truly mean to kill me.

Isn't it enough that I tolerated a contract marriage, stupidly fell in love and was chased the second the contract ended because I ‘posed a danger’ to his mate?

Isn't it enough that my heart is broken?

"Did Elaine send you? You mean to kill me, right? So at least tell me who sent you. Please?"

Their loudening growls and snarls drown the tremble of my voice.

As if sensing the mental calculations roaming my mind at the possibility of escape, Simon snaps his jaw so violently that I step back and lose my footing.

My eyes seal shut, anticipating the hardness of the ground, but the fall continues.

Oh...the edge.

I stood by the edge of the cliff.

Oh...

Tears leave my eyes but do not trickle down my cheeks; they merely float above my weightless frame as time stretches seemingly to eternity before pain rocks through every inch of my body.

The glower of their luminescent eyes shines condescendingly above me from the cliff’s edge.

I can't move any muscle in my body, and despite my desire to escape the disdain in their gazes…a part of me still hopes they will show panic and rush to help me because perhaps they only meant to scare me.

They don’t. They remain in place, gazing down at me as blood spews unnaturally from my mouth.

Internal injuries take ages to-

Ah....never mind.

My eyes lower to the sharp cut tree trunk protruding from my stomach, increasing my blood loss dangerously.

I regenerate fast, a trademark of the Clive family, but even I know I cannot regenerate faster than I am decaying.

I am dying. Dying alone in a forest whose name I do not know.

A laugh finds me, but it must have only expressed itself in my mind because I cannot hear it.

Why is this my fate when the man I love utters another name when we make love?

Why is this my fate when I am the one abandoned?

I did nothing wrong, so Goddess, why is this my fate?

I don’t…want to die.

Hah…isn’t it a little too late to fear death now?

The chill creeping in my flesh reminds me of my body's senses failing, but the suffocation as I choke on my own blood hurts more than the trunk in my flesh.

An overly familiar scent washes over me before my vision fails.

How utterly futile...it wa...s to fall in love…e.

**

A sudden coolness washes my face before my body bolts upright from slumber.

"It is time for you to head to the castle to help the Lycan’s Queen prepare for her wedding."

"Br…Britney?"

I ask with a frown as I wipe the water dripping down my face.

What is this? Where…

My old room?

Wait…is this hell? Didn't Britney die in an accident a few months after my wedding?

"Get up before I get scalding water this time… Mallory."

I flinch.

Mallory?

That she would use the name my mother calls me when I am far above her-

My hand rakes through my hair, a habit to steady my emotions, but I still at the length of the soft mass.

I cut my hair immediately after signing my divorce papers. Does hell undo liberating decisions?

"Wait, the queen?"

A sneer forms on Britney’s lips at my sudden question.

"You get dumber every time I see you; then again, those disgusting eyes of yours are the problem."

My eyes zero in on the newspaper beside my bed, reaching for it and unfolding it clumsily, causing the sound of its pages tearing to echo in the silence.

With a sigh, I slow my actions—the paper is no good to me shredded.

'The royal wedding is set to be a private affair in the mountains; Here’s what we know….”

I trail while reading out the sub-headlines.

No way...no way...

I skim more of the contents before the familiarity of the words send me to the date.

Am I back a year ago?

I need to be sure; what if the paper is old, and…maybe Britney’s death was faked?--but my hair…

“What is the date today, Britney.”

“Are you daft?”

She questions.

Right, we were not friends. She is my mother’s closest servant, and she only treated me with a Luna’s dignity after I used my title to punish her.

But…even if I am not married, she is a maid, and I am the daughter of this house!

“I can take it further, Briteny; what you think you can get away with by hiding behind my mother, I guarantee I can do worse. I can stand from this bed and push you through the windows behind you. How many stories do you think that is? Will you die? No. But we both know I will not get punished publicly because our family cannot risk more scandal, so tell me, Britney, what day is it?”

“December fifth.”

…I am back.

**

The tightness of the corset clenching around my waist limits my capacity to breathe, but this is what was- is expected of me.

On the fifth of December, on the day of the royal wedding, I had breakfast with mother. If the conversation is the same, then I am back, and this is not a simulated hell for a punishment whose reasons I can only place as my existence.

The grand doors to the dining room open before mother walks in gracefully and sits at the opposite end of the dining table, which is too long for only two people.

The meal served is not oats as I instructed, but the flavourless chicken salad I had last time.

“Mother, I requested oat-”

“Eat.”

Like Pavlov’s dogs salivating at the sound of a bell, at the sound of her commanding voice, my hands reach for the fork to devour the dry and flavourless meal.

“You did well in befriending the queen, good work.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

A stiffness finds my bones, and a chill that rids me of my appetite settles low in my belly.

“You will meet the Alpha today during the wedding; this is good; he will understand that he is beneath you.”

Beneath me? That man?

“Regardless, you will marry him, so make him indebted to you.”

Hah! That man loathes our family to the point of indifference. He would rather pretend I do not exist.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes, Mother.”

I respond as her brown eyes narrow in irritation.

After a tense moment, she continues speaking.

“You will only smile and speak softly to him.”

“Yes, mother.”

“You will give your body to him every time he asks.”

He never asked. Not until he discovered his mate bond and-

"Where is your response?”

A frown lingers in her gaze at my maintained silence.

“Y-yes, Mother.”

Her rules continue; after each, I would parrot ‘yes, mother’ because, be it a year ago or now, I do not know how to defy her.

I am back.

Mother wipes her mouth with her napkin, gracefully stands and walks to me.

Her perfectly manicured fingers tilt my face to hers before a hard slap stings across my face; I barely react to that before my other cheek stings from a second impact that causes a persistent ringing to fill my ears.

“You will not disrespect my maid, Mallory.”

I hate the tremble that rocks through me; I survived a loveless marriage, died in the woods and yet still…

“Respond.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Heal your cheeks and let Britney inspect them before you leave this house.”