CHAPTER 1

AURORA

“Please how much are these oranges?” a voice so soft and timid broke me from my thoughts. I looked up and saw a little boy dressed in a suit. His wide eyes were filled with innocence.

“Four coins,” I replied gently, my warm smile lighting up my face as I crouched down to his level.

He reached into his small pouch, carefully pulling out four coins with tiny hands, and handed them to me.

I accepted them and passed him the oranges, my heart softening at his politeness. Before he could thank me, a woman in her early thirties stormed forward, her face twisted in anger.

“Get away from that witch!” she snarled, yanking the boy away with such force that he stumbled. 

My smile faded, my eyes widening in shock as the woman slapped the little boy, making him burst into tears.

“Stay away from my son, you witch!” the woman spat, her voice venomous. She snatched the oranges from the boy’s hands and hurled them to the ground with disgust before dragging him away, ignoring his cries.

I stood frozen, my chest tightened as I watched them disappear, the crushed oranges a vivid reminder of the hostility I faced daily.

The woman’s words cut through me like a blade, leaving a familiar sting in my chest. Though I had heard it all before; the cruel names, the whispers, the glares; it never got easier.

Each insult feels like a fresh wound, a reminder that I would never escape the shadow of my past. The pain was everywhere, lingering like a storm cloud I couldn’t outrun.

“Don’t mind her, Aurora. She’s spilling nonsense,” Oprah’s voice came from behind, soft yet steady, as she approached with calm reassurance.

I forced a smile and handed the coins to Oprah. “It doesn’t matter. At least we have money to buy food now.” my tone was calm.

Turning my attention back to the market, I scanned the bustling scene before me. Stalls were lively with activity, sellers calling out customers, laughter and chatter filling the air; except where Oprah and I stood.

Our little corner was a pocket of isolation, untouched by the crowd of werewolves. Anyone who ventured close quickly turned away the moment they saw me, as if my very presence tainted the air. I swallowed hard, pretending not to notice, but the ache in my chest refused to fade.

I looked at Oprah, my chest tightening with emotion. Oprah, the fifty year old woman who had found me when I was on the brink of death, had become the mother I had always longed for.

She had taken me in, cared for me, and shown me love. Oprah had given me a sense of purpose, helping me rebuild my shattered life. I owe her so much, more than words could ever express.

“Oprah,” I called softly, my voice tinged with hesitation.

“Yes?” Oprah turned to me, her kind eyes meeting mine.

I hesitated, but guilt gnawed at me. “I think you should get someone else to help you with the business. With me here, you barely make enough for meals.”

“Nonsense! You’re not the reason, Aurora. These pack people are just jealous, envious, and plain bad for business.” Oprah replied firmly, waving a dismissive hand.

She stepped closer, her expression sharpening as she narrowed her eyes. I knew that look; she was angry and it made my heart ache.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not a witch, Aurora. You’re a good person. These people don’t know you. They only listen to lies.” she said, her voice firm but warm.

“I’m sorry, Oprah, I just don’t like how you’re being affected because of me.” I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Oprah reached out and pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay, let's go home, we’ve made enough to buy food.” she said.

Just then, a scream erupted, followed by the chaotic sound of cries filling the air. I froze as dread coursed through my veins, my eyes darting to Oprah, whose face paled with panic.

“We need to hide, the Alpha’s men are here, and they’re taking women to the Alpha.” Oprah whispered urgently, her voice trembling.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the cloth from the table, pulling me with her and shoving us both under it.

My heart pounded wildly in my chest, fear coiling around me. I knew all too well what this meant. The Alpha’s men often stormed through smaller packs, taking unmarried women; especially virgins; dragging them off to the Alpha king’s palace to become concubines.

The thought made my stomach churn. I would rather endure the cruel whispers and isolation of the pack members than become one of the Alpha’s whores.

Suddenly the wooden table above us splintered apart, sending shards flying in every direction. I let out a startled gasp as several men loomed over us, their faces cruel, claws out and their eyes filled with menace.

“Grab her!” one of the men ordered, pointing directly at me.

“No! Don’t touch her!” Oprah cried, scrambling to her feet and shielding me with her body.

I screamed as one of the men drew his sword, the sharp blade gleaming in the sunlight before it was pressed against Oprah’s neck.

“Don’t harm her, please! I’ll go with you! Just don’t hurt her!” I begged, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face.

The men ignored my pleas, roughly grabbing my arms and dragging me away as Oprah’s cries rang out behind me. My heart shattered as I looked back, my gaze locking on Oprah’s tears-streaked face.

“Be strong, Aurora, the goddess is with you!” she shouted, her voice cracking with desperation, but the sound faded as I was pulled farther away, fear and despair consuming my whole.

The men dragged me toward the waiting carriage, their grip leaving bruises on my arms. “Oh, the witch! The king will enjoy this one,” one of them sneered, shoving me into the carriage with a rough push.

My heart pounded as panic consumed me, and I thrashed against their hold, screaming for help that would never come.

One of the men grabbed the top of my dress and, with a vicious rip, tore the front, exposing my bare chest.

The humiliation struck me like a blow, stealing every ounce of fight I had left. My hands trembled as I clutched my torn dress to cover myself. As the carriage jolted forward, the realization hit me like a tidal wave; my freedom was gone.

“I want to go home!” a girl beside me wailed, her voice choked with fear. I reached out instinctively, trying to console her, but the girl recoiled, her eyes wide with terror.

“Don’t touch me! You’re a witch!” the girl shrieked, inching as far away as she could.

My heart sank further. For a brief, fleeting moment, I wished for the Alpha king to kill me and end my suffering.

When the carriage came to a halt, my breath caught in my throat. The palace was beautiful. Its beauty mocked my despair, for I knew it was not a sanctuary but my prison.

The grand halls were gilded with opulent as the men dragged me inside. The air was heavy, and my chest tightened as we approached where the king was seated.

And then my eyes met him.

Seated on the throne was the Alpha king, his commanding presence filling the room. His flawless face, and piercing blue eyes radiated power that seemed to demand submission.

My heart froze as recognition slammed into me like a bolt of lightning. No. No, this is not happening.

My knees threatened to buckle as I stared at the man I hadn’t seen in eight years; the man whose name haunted my dreams and every waking thought.

The Alpha king was not just any man. He was my past.

Reality crashed down on me, shattering the fragile illusion of safety I had tried so hard to create. I felt the name rise unbidden to my lips, a ghost of the life I had left behind.

“Damon”