Prologue: The Weakest She-Wolf

Raenerys was pulled from the pages of her favorite book by the sharp, ice-laced voice of her sister.

"The Alpha summons you to his office." Sera’s tone was as cold as ever, reverberating through the dim confines of Raenerys’s room. With measured calm, she placed the book on her bed and turned to face her older sister.

Sera stood in the doorway, her piercing gaze assessing Raenerys with the usual disdain. As the Beta of their pack and their father’s most trusted second-in-command, she held a firm grip on the Siverious Clan’s hierarchy. Unlike Raenerys, who was seen as weak, Sera had clawed her way to the top, commanding power, respect, and fear. And she wanted more.

She had never seen Raenerys as a true rival—just an obstacle. A frail, disappointing little sister who bore the title of Alpha’s daughter but lacked the strength to wield it. Sera despised the thought of Raenerys ever becoming strong enough to challenge her position. That fear, though unspoken, simmered beneath her every glare.

Raenerys was used to the contempt, the dismissive glances, the whispers that she was unworthy of the Siverious name. It was nothing new. She had been called the weakest she-wolf of the pack for as long as she could remember, her abilities paling in comparison even to their youngest warriors. It was a truth that haunted her—one that others delighted in reminding her of.

She met Sera’s gaze with quiet defiance but did not respond. Words would be wasted; Sera never cared for them anyway.

With a flick of her sleek black hair, Sera turned on her heel and strode off, not bothering to wait for a response. The sound of her boots against the wooden floor echoed down the hall as she disappeared.

Raenerys exhaled slowly, forcing herself to steady the unease coiling in her stomach.

Three sharp knocks. A hesitant turn of the doorknob. And then, she stepped inside.

Her father, Alpha Salve Lauregnory, sat behind his grand mahogany desk, his hands folded neatly as he regarded her with an unreadable expression. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the walls. He wasted no time.

“Sera said you wanted to talk to me,” Raenerys said, keeping her voice light, indifferent, even as her heart drummed against her ribs.

“Sit down, Raenerys.”

His tone left no room for argument. She obeyed, lowering herself onto the chair across from him. She had always followed orders, always played the role of the obedient daughter. Not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice. Speaking out had never been an option. Every time she thought of rebelling, of snapping back at the whispered insults and cruel laughter, doubt crept in—sharp, unforgiving.

She wasn’t strong enough.

Her father leaned forward, fingers tapping idly against the wood. “The pack is growing, and so are our enemies. To maintain our dominance, we must strengthen our alliances.”

Raenerys remained silent. She had no idea what he expected of her. Her strength was laughable; her influence, nonexistent. It was Sera he should be relying on.

Then, his next words struck like a dagger.

“And as the daughter of this pack’s Alpha, I have no choice but to arrange your marriage to the Alpha from the North.”

The air left her lungs. Her hands tightened into fists on her lap as disbelief crashed over her.

“What?” The whisper barely left her lips, but the weight of it trembled in the space between them.

She knew exactly who he meant.

The Alpha of the North.

A man feared across the lands, infamous for his merciless rule, his unshakable grip on power. His pack was the strongest, his warriors unparalleled. He was ruthless, calculating—a force of nature that none dared to defy.

Nevil.

Her breath hitched.

She had known him once. Or, at least, she had known the boy he used to be. Before he became an Alpha. Before he became a legend of brutality. They had grown up together, childhood friends bound by innocence and the golden light of simpler days. But those days were long gone. The Nevil she had once known had vanished the moment he left for the North, swallowed by blood and war and duty.

And he had forgotten her.

The rumors were endless—whispers that he despised weakness, that he had no use for anything fragile. And that was exactly what Raenerys was.

She swallowed hard.

Her father’s expression did not waver. “We need the North as an ally. And you will ensure that alliance.”

Raenerys clenched her jaw, her mind racing.

They needed Nevil.

But deep down, she knew that she needed him more.

“M-Me?” Raenerys could barely force the words out. The weight of her father’s declaration pressed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Surely, she had misheard him. Surely, this was some cruel jest.

But Salve Lauregnory was not the type of man to joke. His piercing gaze held no trace of humor, only the cold, unyielding authority of an Alpha.

“Yes, you.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “You must marry Nevil Lancaster. This isn’t a request, Raenerys. It is a necessity. The North’s Alpha is our only chance at strengthening our pack. Sera cannot take this on—she is the next leader and must remain here. You, however, will fulfill this duty.”

Each word struck her like a lash. Raenerys opened her mouth, desperate to argue, to refuse—but the protest died in her throat. It wouldn’t matter. It never did. Her father had decided, and her fate was sealed.

Dazed and hollow, she stumbled out of his office, the walls of the Siverious Clan's stronghold closing in on her. The thought of crossing the narrow sea to face Nevil after all these years sent a chill down her spine. What did he even look like now? The childhood friend she once knew was long gone, replaced by a man who ruled the most formidable pack in existence. The stories of his ruthlessness echoed in every corner of the kingdom. Would he even accept her?

I am not fit to be his Luna. I am nothing but a weak she-wolf.

Sleep evaded her that night. Her mind was a storm of fear and unanswered questions. When the four walls of her room became suffocating, she gave in to the urge clawing at her insides. She ran.

The crisp night air stung her skin as she sprinted into the dense woods, her bare feet barely making a sound against the forest floor. The wind whipped through her hair, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythmic crunch of dried leaves and broken twigs beneath her. The farther she went, the lighter she felt. Only in the solitude of the wilderness could she momentarily forget her shackles.

When she reached the crest of a hill, she halted, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Before her stretched an endless sea of trees, bathed in the silvery glow of the full moon. She tilted her head back, staring at the celestial body that had watched over her all her life.

A raw, primal sorrow welled up inside her.

With a sudden, desperate need to release the anguish festering within her, she threw her head back and howled.

The sound split the silence of the night, carrying her pain into the vast unknown. Moments later, a chorus of distant howls answered her. Her pack—or perhaps, mere strangers in the dark.

She collapsed onto the grass, her human form returning as she hastily pulled her clothes back on. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed up at the moon, as if pleading for answers.

Why? Why must it be me?

The stars offered no response. The world remained indifferent to her suffering.

Just as she thought she was alone in her grief, a new sound shattered the fragile peace.

A series of howls rang out from the base of the hill—distinct, commanding.

Her father. And Sera.

They had come for her.

Raenerys staggered to her feet, furiously wiping away the tears that threatened to expose her vulnerability. Panic pounded against her ribcage, but she forced herself to remain composed. She turned to flee, her bare feet kicking up dirt and fallen leaves, but before she could take a step, two hulking figures emerged from the shadows, blocking her path.

Their glowing red eyes burned like embers in the darkness, their sharp fangs gleaming under the moonlight. A cold wave of terror crashed over her. Not because she was a coward—no, she had never been that—but because she understood the brutal reality of her own limitations. These wolves were stronger, faster, more ruthless. Fighting them would be a death sentence.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, but there was no escape. Her pulse thundered in her ears as her hands clenched into fists. If this was how she was meant to die, then so be it. She refused to cower.

A growl rumbled from her throat as she braced for their attack. They lunged without hesitation, moving like shadows—swift, deadly, unrelenting. Raenerys twisted and dodged, narrowly avoiding their razor-sharp claws. Years of training kept her alive, but just barely. Every step, every strike, she was falling behind.

Then, pain.

White-hot agony tore through her side as one of them slashed deep into her flesh. The force of the impact sent her sprawling onto the ground, her vision flashing white. Blood seeped into the dirt beneath her, the metallic scent thick in the air.

She heard them scoff.

"I can’t believe this is the Alpha’s daughter,” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Pathetic."

“She’s not worth our time,” the other grumbled, disinterest evident in his tone. “The Beta would’ve put up a real fight. This one? She’s already broken.”

Raenerys lay motionless, her body trembling. Not from fear, but from the raw humiliation that cut deeper than their claws ever could.

She had never been enough.

Never strong enough. Never fast enough. Never worthy enough.

The outsiders vanished into the night, their laughter echoing in her skull long after they were gone.

She didn’t know how long she remained there, bleeding into the earth, her vision swimming. Her mind drifted in and out of darkness, her body numb with pain.

Then—

"Raenerys!"

A voice. Sharp, commanding, edged with something unfamiliar.

Sera.

Strong arms lifted her, cradling her battered form as the scent of home surrounded her. Raenerys wanted to speak, to tell her sister she was sorry, to say anything—but the words never came.

Darkness took her.

—

The Den was in chaos. The scent of blood clung to the air as the pack’s members gathered in tense silence, their expressions shadowed with worry.

The Alpha’s roar shattered the hush like a thunderclap.

"Get Azleah! Now!" His voice was a growl, thick with fury, with barely restrained violence.

The pack scrambled to obey, the doctor rushing forward to assess the unconscious she-wolf lying limp on the infirmary bed.

Salve Lauregnory stood rigid, his jaw clenched so tight it looked as if it might shatter. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he glared down at his daughter, his expression unreadable.

"What the hell was she thinking?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Why does she keep wandering off alone?"

No one dared to answer.

But the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air.

Because she wanted to prove herself. Because she was tired of being weak.

Because, despite everything—

She still hoped to be enough.

"Look at her, Father." Sera’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade. "She’s incapable. You know this as well as I do. Do you really think it’s wise to tie her to Nevil?"

Salve inhaled deeply, his expression unreadable, but Raenerys could sense his hesitation.

"But it’s the only way, Sera," he said, his voice carrying the weight of an entire pack’s future. "Raenerys must marry Nevil and become his Luna. It’s not about choice—it’s about survival. I can't let you leave the South. You’re meant to lead our people."

Raenerys remained silent, staring at the ceiling as she lay in the infirmary bed. She was still weak, the pain dull but persistent. She knew her father was only stating facts, yet his words felt like a branding iron against her skin.

She had always been the sacrifice.

Azleah, the pack’s healer, entered, her sharp gaze assessing Raenerys’s wounds. "She’ll wake later," she said curtly. "Let her rest."

Neither Salve nor Sera argued. With a final glance at his daughter, Salve turned on his heel and left to convene with the council.

The elders had long voiced their concerns—offering Raenerys to Nevil was like throwing a rabbit into a wolf’s den. Nevil Lancaster was no fool. He was ruthless, shrewd, and would see right through this desperate attempt to forge an alliance.

Salve clenched his jaw. If there was another way, he would have taken it.

But there wasn’t.

Raenerys had no time to dwell on these things. Before dawn, she was woken and ordered to prepare for their departure. With slow, aching movements, she packed what little she could—clothes, a few books to distract her from the looming dread clawing at her chest.

She was leaving.

Sera stood by the window, gazing at the moonlit waves. "Don’t let him see your weakness," she murmured.

Raenerys froze.

"So we’re deceiving him, then?" She forced out a laugh, but it was hollow. "What do you think will happen when he finds out? Nevil might very well slaughter our entire pack."

Sera’s bitter chuckle sent a chill down her spine.

"Sometimes, we have to make impossible choices to protect what we love," Sera said. "This pack is our home. We don’t have the luxury of fairness. We do what we must."

Raenerys swallowed hard.

She understood now.

Her father wouldn’t risk Sera—his rightful heir. So he was sending her instead, like a lamb to the slaughter.

—

The voyage was long and uneventful, the hours stretching endlessly as they sailed toward the North. By the time they arrived, the sun was already dipping beyond the horizon, casting eerie shadows through the thick, snow-laden trees.

The moment they set foot on land, the bitter chill of the North coiled around Raenerys like an unwelcome embrace. Her breath came out in soft, misty puffs, and despite the layers of clothing she had donned, she felt frozen to her bones.

The unease only grew as they ventured deeper into Nevil’s territory.

The air here was different. Heavier. Oppressive.

By the time they reached the massive iron gate that guarded Nevil’s Den, Raenerys’s pulse was hammering against her ribs. The gates groaned as they swung open, revealing a grand, gothic estate, its dark stone walls looming like the fangs of a beast waiting to devour them.

She barely had time to steady herself before she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Then, he appeared.

Nevil Lancaster.

Raenerys felt the world tilt for a moment.

He had changed.

Gone was the boy she once knew, replaced by a man who commanded attention with just his presence. His jet-black hair was tousled, his sun-kissed complexion only accentuating the sharp, defined angles of his face. He wore black—a crisp button-down tucked into dark slacks, the top few buttons undone to reveal a sliver of his chest. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing strong, veined forearms.

But it wasn’t his appearance that unnerved her.

It was his aura.

Dominance radiated from him like an untamed storm. He didn’t just walk—he prowled. And when his icy blue eyes landed on her, she felt the ground beneath her quake.

Raenerys barely suppressed a shiver.

A man dressed in black approached Nevil, whispering something in his ear. Nevil didn’t react, his piercing gaze still locked onto her, assessing, stripping away every ounce of composure she tried to muster.

And then—

"Everyone leave."

His voice was deep, commanding, laced with an unspoken threat. "I will speak with the South Alpha alone."

Raenerys flinched at the finality in his tone.

One by one, the others obeyed. Even Sera hesitated for only a second before stepping back, leaving Raenerys rooted to the spot.

As silence settled in the vast office, Sera murmured beside her, "So that’s Nevil now?"

Her voice was unreadable, but Raenerys didn’t need to look at her to know what she meant. Nevil was dangerous—so dangerously compelling that one could easily mistake fascination for desire.

Raenerys swallowed, forcing herself to look away.

She had no right to admire him.

Not when she was nothing more than an offering at his feet.

Minutes passed before her father finally emerged from the office. His face was unreadable, but Raenerys caught the tension in his posture.

Nevil’s hands remained shoved into his pockets as he finally turned back to her.

"Rigor will show you to your quarters." His voice was detached, impassive.

Her father gave a curt nod, following Rigor, the man who had whispered to Nevil earlier. The other elders followed, leaving Raenerys alone.

She hesitated.

Nevil didn’t spare her a second glance before turning away, ascending the grand staircase without another word.

As she watched him disappear into the shadows of his mansion, a question gnawed at her.

Did he remember?

Did he remember the girl he once knew?

Or had she already become nothing more than a nameless sacrifice in his eyes?

Her question was swallowed by silence the moment she was left alone. The emptiness of the hallway pressed against her chest, but after a moment of hesitation, she forced herself to move, making her way through the back of the mansion. Rigor led them to their chambers, where they could rest, and she quietly slipped inside her own room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

The space was adequate—lavish compared to what she was accustomed to—but the cold color palette cast a heavy gloom over the decor. Dark curtains swallowed the moonlight seeping through the window, while the furniture, though elegant, felt unwelcoming. A gilded mirror rested against the wall, reflecting her weary form.

Raenerys exhaled, turning off the lights before sinking onto the bed. She shut her eyes, hoping sleep would grant her a brief escape, hoping that by morning, everything would somehow fall into place. But the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at her, much like the night her father had first disclosed his plan.

The agreement between Salve and Nevil remained a mystery. Had he accepted? Had he refused? What would become of her?

She twisted beneath the sheets, trying to will away the thoughts clawing at her mind. Time slipped by unnoticed until a sound—a faint rustling—broke the silence.

Her body stiffened.

A shadow moved outside her door.

Her breath hitched as she sat upright, her heart hammering in her chest. Was it a servant? A guard? Or something far worse? The room’s darkness gave her an advantage. If someone was there, they wouldn’t immediately see her when she opened the door.

Summoning her courage, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, padding silently across the cold floor. With slow, careful movements, she twisted the handle and cracked the door open. The corridor stretched before her, empty.

Still, she wasn’t convinced.

Needing air to calm her restless mind, Raenerys stepped out. The halls were eerily quiet, the flickering sconces casting long, wavering shadows against the stone walls. Just as she was about to turn back, movement caught her eye—a lone figure slipping toward the mansion’s entrance.

She narrowed her gaze. Sera.

What is she doing?

A prickle of unease ran down her spine as she watched her older sister glance around cautiously before disappearing beyond the door. Without thinking, Raenerys followed, careful to keep her distance.

Outside, the night was cold, the wind whispering through the trees. Sera moved with purpose, her posture rigid. It wasn’t long before she entered the mansion again, climbing the stairs toward the upper chambers.

Raenerys hesitated, lingering at the bottom step. A part of her urged her to turn back, but another part—the one plagued by suspicion—demanded answers.

She crept forward, pressing herself against the wall as she watched Sera knock on a door. The wait felt eternal until, finally, the door swung open, and she disappeared inside.

Raenerys didn’t dare move closer. She didn’t need to. The truth clawed at her insides with brutal clarity.

Sera was meeting with someone.

And it wasn’t her father.

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat and turned away, retreating to her chambers before her mind could spiral further. Sleep claimed her in fractured waves, but the unease never faded.

—

Morning arrived, casting a muted glow through the drapes. Raenerys awoke with a heavy heart, her mind still tangled in the events of the night before.

Breakfast was a silent affair. She sat stiffly at the long dining table, barely touching her food. Nevil had ordered the meal, but he was absent. The weight of uncertainty made every bite taste like ash.

Then, the summons came.

Raenerys, Sera, and Salve were led to the mansion’s grand living room, where Nevil awaited them. He lounged on a velvet couch, a book in one hand, a steaming cup of coffee in the other. He looked the picture of nonchalance, but there was an undeniable sharpness in his gaze as he shut the book and set it aside.

The imposing frame behind him, decorated with the crest of his house, loomed over them like an unspoken threat.

Raenerys forced herself to meet his gaze, memories of the previous night creeping into her thoughts. He didn’t appear troubled. If anything, he seemed… entertained. As though he was the only one privy to a secret no one else knew.

Beside her, Sera was equally quiet, her expression unreadable. But Raenerys saw it—the way her fingers curled slightly against her skirts, the flicker of something uneasy in her eyes.

What were they hiding?

Salve was the first to speak. "We are grateful for your decision, Nevil. I look forward to our deal and the alliance it will forge. Please take good care of my daughter."

Raenerys's breath caught.

Her mind went blank, the words dissolving before she could fully process them.

It was decided.

Salve had sealed her fate.

The world blurred as her father turned away, exiting the mansion without another word. Sera followed suit, her expression betraying nothing. Raenerys remained frozen, a suffocating fear settling in her chest. She wanted to run, to follow them—but Nevil’s guards stepped forward, blocking her path.

"Take her to her room."

Nevil’s command was firm, devoid of warmth. His voice sent a shiver through her, the finality of his words sinking deep into her bones.

Her stomach twisted as she met his gaze. He was smirking.

"Don’t celebrate just yet," he murmured, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. "Your father thought he could deceive me, but he failed to realize he was the one being deceived."

Raenerys’s pulse roared in her ears.

What was he talking about? What had Salve done?

"Do you know what he told me?" Nevil’s voice was silk wrapped around a blade.

She didn’t.

But something told her that whatever he was about to reveal would shatter whatever fragile hope she still clung to.

The woman entertained him, which was the only reason he wanted her alive. Even as he indulged in the thought of sending her lifeless body back to the South, he found himself drawn to her—like a cat toying with a wounded bird, prolonging the inevitable. Nevil thrived on others' fear, fed on their curses and hatred. He did not crave admiration or respect; he preferred to be feared. That was the essence of his power. Brutality, ruthlessness, and dominance—these were the traits that defined him. And yet, as he looked at her now, the girl he had once loved, all he saw was a weak, trembling creature. Worthless. Insignificant. Of no use to him.

The air between them grew heavier as the distance closed. Raenerys could barely breathe, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Nevil's gaze bore into her like ice, stripping her of whatever courage she had left. There was nothing in his expression to grasp onto—no warmth, no familiarity. Only cold, calculating cruelty.

Then he reached for her, his fingers grasping her chin, tilting her face up to meet his stare. His touch was deceptively soft, yet his grip was firm, like a predator toying with its prey before the kill.

"You're weak," he murmured, his voice like velvet laced with poison. "Your soul is worthless. And aside from your beauty, there’s nothing special about you."

The words sliced through her like a blade, deeper than any physical wound could. Raenerys stiffened, blinking rapidly against the sting in her eyes. She had endured cruelty before, had steeled herself against it—but this? This was different. This was the man she had loved.

"I rejected you as my bride. As my Luna." Nevil's voice remained calm, measured, but the amusement flickering in his eyes made her stomach turn. "I told your father I didn’t want you. So, do you know what he said?"

Raenerys clenched her hands into fists. "N-Nevil..."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he ignored her, his grip tightening just enough to make her flinch.

"Do you want to know?" he pressed, his lips curving into a slow, mocking smile.

She shook her head, but he let go of her chin so suddenly that she staggered back. The absence of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, but not out of relief—out of dread.

"He begged me to accept you," Nevil continued, stepping closer, his towering presence suffocating. "Even if it meant making you my slave. Any kind of slave I desired." He paused, watching her reaction. "And do you know what came to my mind when I heard the word 'slave'?"

Raenerys didn’t want to hear it. Every part of her screamed to run, to block out his words, to pretend none of this was real.

"Sex," Nevil finished, his smirk widening. "If you're not fit to be my wife, you could at least serve some use in my bed. That’s why I accepted. That’s why you’re here."

Raenerys’s breath hitched, bile rising in her throat.

"Oh, and your father—" Nevil continued, as if relishing the torment on her face. "He wasn’t convinced that I would truly align with him. So he offered me another option." He chuckled darkly. "If I worried that my heir would be weak, he said I could use Sera instead."

The world tilted beneath her feet.

"He told me she’d bear my child."

Something inside Raenerys snapped.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, her arm swung. Her palm met his cheek with a sharp, resounding slap.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Nevil slowly turned his head back to face her, golden eyes blazing, fangs bared. A low growl rumbled from his throat, his claws extending as his rage flared.

"You bitch—!"

He lunged forward, his hand raising to strike her, but he hesitated.

Raenerys wasn’t crying.

She wasn’t cowering.

She was looking at him with something he had never seen in her before—something dark, something unyielding. The fragile, gentle girl he had known was gone. In her place stood a woman who no longer feared him.

For the first time, Nevil felt something he never expected.

A shiver of unease.

Raenerys saw it in his eyes. And she ran.

The guards did not move to stop her. Whether by his command or their own fear, she didn’t know. She didn’t care.

She had been betrayed, humiliated, discarded like she was nothing. But this was not the end of her story.

One day, she would return—not as a weak girl pleading for acceptance, but as something stronger.

She would claim the North.

And Nevil?

He would become nothing more than the first man she destroyed.

. . .