Chapter 2

I hit the dirt and roll. The wheel grinds over my ankle. Bone crunches.

My vision blacks at the edges.

The carriage stops.

The Alpha, my father, what a joke, steps out and looks down at me like I am something his boot scraped up.

"You filthy little liar. That Rogue is my sworn brother! He took a blade for me on the battlefield! You and your mother were under his protection. He would never do that to you. If you are going to lie, at least make it believable!"

He pauses. His voice softens, but only into something worse.

That tired, disappointed tone.

"All your mother had to do was come back. Bow her head once. I would have forgiven everything. Ten years she had. She has hands. She has feet. Even if she had to crawl, she should have crawled her way back by now. She is just still angry. Still punishing me."

Thunder cracks overhead. Rain starts hammering down.

I lie in the mud, blood and water mixing on my face, and I start to laugh.

Legs. Legs. A breeding slave does not need legs.

They cut hers off years ago.

How exactly was she supposed to crawl across a thousand miles of forest with no hands and no feet?

From the time I could remember, that Rogue rented my mother out.

One pup, a few sacks of grain. A litter, a handful of coin.

She refused. He beat her. She still refused.

Then he grabbed me by the throat and held a silver blade to my heart.

And my Luna, my proud, beautiful Luna mother, dropped to her knees.

Every night I curled up in the goat shed and watched the line of males trail in and out of her door.

I heard the sounds she made. The broken, swallowed whimpers a mother makes when she does not want her pup to hear.

One night she scratched the Chief's son too deep. The Rogue had to pay restitution. He came home drunk and furious.

He took an axe to her hands. Then her feet.

"The Alpha forgot about you two a long time ago," he laughed.

"What do you need limbs for? You can still lie on your back and breed me silver."

That is the night I learned my father was an Alpha.

Rain stings my face.

I cough up a mouthful of blood and force myself upright on shaking legs. I scream at the carriage.

"They say you were my mother's closest sister! When your father was executed for treason, when your family's females were sold to the brothels, she pawned her bridal jewelry. She shamed herself in front of every Alpha in the territory to buy you out!"

Rose's knuckles go bone-white around her embroidered handkerchief.

CRACK.

A whip slashes across my back. The beggar's linen splits open. Skin opens with it.

The Alpha stands over me, chest heaving.

The Silver-Weaved Whip glints in his hand.

"How DARE you! Rose is your stepmother. Your elder. You are a half-grown pup. You do not get to speak her name!"

I lie in the mud, and I laugh at that whip.

Because my mother told me the story. She begged a sacred elder for it.

Mountain serpent leather. Three years soaked in healing wine. Silver threaded through by hand. A gift for her Alpha mate.

May this whip strike down injustice.

May it protect the weak.

May it protect us, your Luna, your daughter.

And now it is tearing the skin off her only pup.

My eyes burn. Not tears. Hate.

I drag myself upright. Sway. Stare straight at Rose.

"My mother loved you like blood. And on the night of her first pregnancy, you climbed into the Alpha's bed while he was drunk. She walked in on you. She lost the pup right there on the floor. Isn't that right?"

CRACK. CRACK.

Two more lashes.

"Demon spawn!" The Alpha's eyes are red.

"Your mother was jealous and bitter! She slipped on her own! She blamed Rose to save face!"

I look up at his face, the face that gave me my eyes, my temper, my stubborn jaw, and I scream with everything I have left.

"You spoiled your mistress and destroyed your mate! You don't deserve to be called a mate! That's why you have no son! My mother is DEAD! You will die alone! No heir, no bloodline, no one to mourn you!"

"INSOLENT..."

"Alpha, please. She is still a pup."

Rose's voice. Soft. Practiced. Not one ounce of real mercy in it.

The Alpha's hand keeps rising. The whip keeps falling.

Blood blooms across the linen. The fabric glues to my skin. Every twitch feels like flesh being peeled off.

When he finally stops, panting like a wounded animal, I am barely shaped like a girl anymore.

"Do you admit you are wrong?!"

I lie in the cold mud. Every cut screams.

I do not make a sound.

His face twists. He turns to his guards.

"Tie this little demon to the back of the carriage. She runs behind us until she begs forgiveness."