ELARA
The Blackfang Pack was a kingdom built on fear. Its walls were black stone, its halls cold and merciless, and its Alpha ruled with an iron hand that never wavered.
Alaric Blackfang sat upon his throne like a beast carved from the shadows themselves. The torchlight carved sharp angles across his cruel face, every line etched with rage and authority. His eyes were as sharp as daggers, his presence suffocating, his voice the kind that could command warriors or crush a child's spirit in a single breath.
I was his daughter, but in his gaze, I was nothing more than a mistake he had been forced to endure. A living scar carved by betrayal.
"Bring her forward," he growled.
The guards yanked at my chains and shoved me onto the cold stone floor. My knees scraped against it, the sting burning up my legs, but I refused to cry out.
Alaric's lip curled.
"You will go to the Ironclaw lands," he spat, his voice carrying across the chamber like venom dripping from a blade. "You will serve them as their dog, their slave. But you will also serve me. Bring me their secrets, Elara, or your mother dies screaming in front of you."
The words sank like poison into my veins. My wrists throbbed where the iron dug into them, the scent of rust and dried blood clinging to the chains.
From the shadows, a faint sound broke the silence the dragging of heavier chains, scraping over stone. My breath caught.
My mother.
Lyanna.
Once the pride of Blackfang, now reduced to a prisoner of her mate's wrath. She stumbled into the chamber, her body half dragged by two guards. Her silver hair hung in tangled strands, streaked with dirt and dried blood. Bruises mottled her pale skin, her lips split and swollen. Her wrists were bound in iron cuffs that had bitten deep, leaving angry wounds.
My stomach twisted at the sight of her.
The guards forced her to her knees beside me. She trembled, but when she raised her head, her eyes still held that stubborn spark of defiance. With all the strength she had left, she reached for me. The chains clanked as her trembling hands cupped my face, dragging me close until our foreheads pressed together.
Her voice was raw, broken, yet carried the weight of something greater than both of us.
"Listen to me, Elara. Never show them your wolf. Not to your father, not to your enemies, not to anyone. Hide her. Bury her. Lock her away even if it means hiding her forever. Promise me. Swear it. Swear it, child!"
Her words carved themselves into my soul, each one a blade. It wasn't just a warning it was a command, a plea, and a curse all at once.
Tears blurred my vision, but before I could answer, the guards wrenched her back. She screamed, the sound torn from her throat, raw with anguish.
Alaric's hand slammed down on the armrest of his throne. His voice thundered like a death knell.
"Fail me, girl, and I will peel the flesh from her bones piece by piece while you watch."
The chamber went still, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. The guards dragged me to my feet, the chains rattling in protest as they pulled me toward the doors. My mother's cries echoed after me until the heavy doors slammed shut, silencing her voice.
The journey to Ironclaw lands was long and merciless. The guards tied the chain around my waist to a horse and forced me to walk beside it like a beast, stumbling over rocks and roots. My bare feet were cut and bruised, but no one cared. Each stumble earned me a shove, each falter a cruel laugh.
The forest pressed in around us, dark and heavy. I once ran these woods as a child, free and wild. Now every step was another nail in the coffin of the girl I used to be.
I thought of my mother's warning. Never show them your wolf.
But what wolf? Mine had never awakened. Only restless dreams and faint whispers haunted me like something caged deep inside, clawing at the bars but never breaking free.
By the time dawn broke, my body was raw with exhaustion, but the guards showed no mercy. The air grew colder, sharper, carrying the scent of iron and smoke. And then I saw it the Ironclaw fortress rising out of the mountains like a beast carved in stone. Towers of black iron, walls bristling with warriors.
The guards shoved me forward into the courtyard. A dozen wolves turned to look, their eyes narrowing with suspicion and contempt. Whispers rippled through the crowd: "A spy." "Blackfang filth." "Look at her pathetic."
My stomach knotted, but I kept my chin high.
And then he appeared.
At the front of the gathered warriors, a figure stepped forward, and the entire courtyard seemed to shift around his presence. Broad shoulders, a body carved by battle, a presence that radiated dominance even before he opened his mouth. His hair was dark as midnight, his eyes storm gray, sharp enough to pin me in place.
Kieran Ironclaw.
The Alpha who had claimed his title through blood and battle.
His gaze swept over me like a blade, cutting, assessing. His lips twisted in disdain.
"So this is what Blackfang dares to send me? A chained girl? A slave?"
The warriors laughed, their voices cruel, echoing through the courtyard.
Heat flared in my chest, fury replacing fear. My chains rattled as I forced myself upright.
And then, for the briefest moment, his eyes locked with mine. Something flickered strange, sharp, electric. My chest tightened, my breath caught, and deep inside me, something stirred.
A restless pull. A clawing at the edges of my soul.
I tore my gaze away, my nails biting into my palms as if I could ground myself. Whatever that was heat, fear, some cruel trick of the mind it could not matter. Not here. Not now.
Because to Kieran Ironclaw, I was nothing but a slave.
And to Alaric Blackfang, I was nothing but a weapon
—End of Chapter 1