Chapter 3

The rain has not stopped.

A rough rope cuts into my wrists. The carriage rolls forward and I stumble after it, bare feet slipping in mud.

Every jolt yanks the rope. Every yank tears the lash wounds on my back wider.

The silver residue from the whip burns under my skin like acid.

My wolf is whimpering somewhere deep inside, too weak to even lift her head.

My vision blurs. My head feels packed with wet sand.

But somehow, through the rain, through the wind, I can still hear them.

Laughter. Inside the carriage.

Rosie is doing her baby voice. "Daddy, Daddy."

The Alpha chuckles low and indulgent.

A perfect little family of three.

And in the smeared, half-conscious dark behind my eyes, I see my mother.

The way she was at the end.

Just a torso on a rotting straw mat.

The stumps where her hands used to be, weeping yellow. The stumps where her feet used to be, scarred over ugly and black.

At first, she still sang. The old pack lullabies from the Pack House.

She told me stories.

How she and the Alpha used to sneak out at midnight to run as wolves under the moon.

How he would put wildflowers in her hair in the spring meadows.

How he swore, with his fangs against her throat, that he would protect his Luna forever.

Then she stopped singing.

She became something hollow. Something that only spoke when she dreamed.

"Believe me. I didn't push her. I didn't push her. I didn't…"

I would crouch beside her mat, wipe the tears off her face with my dirty little fingers, and beg her to look at me.

Please, Mama. Please just see me. Stop thinking about it.

But that one sentence was carved into her bones. She could not let it go.

She always told me, When your father learns the truth, he'll come for us. He'll protect us.

Well, Mama. He came.

In a carriage with silver bells. With a new Luna in his lap and a new pup at her breast.

And he came to use your womb.

My consciousness sinks like a stone in dark water. My knees give. I drop face-first into the mud and let the carriage drag me.

Drag me to death. Good.

If I die, I get to see her.

I will not have to watch this happy little family anymore. I will not have to feel the silver burning under my skin. I will not have to keep being alive in a world that took everything…

I wake up to the smell of healing herbs and a soft, sing-song voice in my ear.

"Sissy, you're awake!"

A round little face hovers over mine. Pink cheeks. Curls. Wide, wet eyes.

Rosie.

The Alpha sits a few feet away, holding a steaming mug, watching me. His voice is flat.

"Lucky you. If Rosie hadn't whined that you were turning blue, you'd be a corpse on the road. Thank your sister."

I do not say a word. I just stare at her, cold as winter.

Rosie shrinks back, hiding behind his arm.

But the Alpha, instead of getting angry, actually smirks. There is something almost like approval in his eyes.

"Tough little thing. You took every lash, dragged for miles, and didn't whimper once. Didn't beg. You've got my blood in you, all right."

Rose curls into his side, fingers tightening on his sleeve.

Her smile stays sweet, but her voice slips in like a needle.

"The Alpha is right, of course. Such a pity though. She is just a she-wolf. She will never run with the warriors like you did, my love. She will never fight wars or claim territory. In the end, she will just be someone's mate. Someone's Luna. Raising pups."

The Alpha's brow snaps tight. That sentence finds the exact spot Rose was aiming for.

"Yeah. Just a daughter."

He looks at me again, but the pride is already gone. Replaced by something colder.

"Soon as we get back to the Pack House, I'm hiring the strictest matron in the territory. This one needs to be broken in. She'll be of mating age in a few seasons. Mouth like a gutter, attitude like a feral. No respectable Alpha's son will touch her."

Rose nods, all soft agreement, but I see the venom flicker in her eyes.

I almost laugh out loud.

When did I ever say I was going to the Pack House with them?

Just then the carriage lurches to a hard stop.

The driver's voice calls in from outside, careful and low.

"Alpha. We're here. The Rogue village."