Clara's knees burned as she pressed them into the earth. Damp soil blackened under her nails as she tucked a stubborn basil shoot into the earth.
Her little garden was the only thing that was truly hers. The only corner of the world where she found peace, where she could pretend she belonged.
No matter how many times others trampled it out of spite, she always rebuilt it.
'If I can't have a good life,' she told herself, patting the dirt around another sprout. 'Then I'll at least have a beautiful garden.'
The thought was fragile, a secret she hardly dared to give voice to.
But before she could finish it, a sharp boot came down, crushing the fresh shoots into the ground.
Clara's head snapped up. Her eyes widened as she stared at Alana, one of the youngest wolves in the pack.
"What do you think you're doing?" Clara snapped, fists clenching as she pushed herself to her feet.
"A wolfless stray like you has no right to plant where real wolves walk," Alana sneered.
She ground her heel into the earth, twisting it until the plants were nothing but pulp. Then she stepped closer, smirking in Clara's face. "What are you going to do about it?"
The two wolves flanking her burst into cruel laughter.
Clara's jaw tightened. Her hands balled into fists. She opened her mouth, aching to scream, but no sound came past the lump in her throat.
Inside, her wolf was silent… as always.
Helpless, she stood as Alana and her friends stomped through the rest of her garden.
Heat burned behind her eyes. She bit down on the inside of her cheek until it was bleeding, determined not to let them see her cry.
"You won't do anything. You never do. Pathetic." Alana spat the words, then turned away, her packmates following like shadows.
Their laughter echoed long after they were gone.
Clara's fists shook at her sides. If only she could fight back.
When the sound of them faded, she dropped to her knees. Only then did the tears come, hot and relentless down her cheeks.
She hadn't even wiped them away when a voice cut across the yard.
"Clara!"
She turned. Her adoptive father stood there, his face hard as stone.
"What are you waiting for? Come here," he barked. "We've finally found a use for you."
Her blood ran cold.
'A use?'
She didn't argue. She only wiped her hands on her skirt and followed him inside, her heart pounding.
The moment she stepped into the living room, she froze.
Several men stood scattered across the room.
But it was the one in her father's chair who made her breath catch. His presence filled the space. Broad shoulders, sharp eyes like ice, and an aura of command that pressed down on the room like a heavy cloud.
He was Adrian. Alpha of the Ironfang Pack.
His gaze slid over her, slow and deliberate. Not with admiration. Not even curiosity. But with ownership, like a man assessing property he already intended to claim.
In that moment, Clara knew that whatever use her family had found for her, it would cost her everything.
But a flicker of hope stirred anyway.
Deep inside, she had always dreamed of leaving the pack for somewhere better. Maybe, just maybe, this was the chance.
Then, a firm nudge snapped her back to the present. She turned to see her adoptive father's hand pressing against her shoulder.
"Go to him, Clara," he said. His voice was flat, final. "We owe a debt. You will marry him as payment."
Clara's breath caught. Her eyes widened. "No, Father! You can't make me marry a stranger!"
The words cracked the air like a whip.
Adrian rose from his chair, his movements slow, deliberate. He crossed the room and lifted her chin with one finger. His eyes were sharp, cold, and heavy with authority.
Clara's throat bobbed at his touch.
"I am no stranger," he said, each word steeped in power. "I am Adrian, Alpha of the Ironfang Pack. And I accept you as payment for your family's debt."
Clara's pulse hammered in her ears. She wanted to scream, to resist, but something in his presence froze her voice in her throat.
Adrian dropped his hand, but his gaze stayed on her. "Prepare everything. We wed tonight." His tone left no room for argument.
Then he turned on his heel and stormed out, his men trailing after him. The door shut with a dull thud that rattled the walls.
Clara stayed rooted to the floor, her legs numb. She had been used all her life, but this? This was different. This was a sentence.
When she finally turned, her adoptive parents were smiling. Relief softened their faces.
Her chest ached. Tears blurred her vision. "You're serious," she whispered. "You want to give me to him?"
"You should be grateful, Clara," her adoptive mother said as she stepped closer, stroking Clara's hair patronizingly. "You're wolfless, and you know what that means. We're doing you a great favor by marrying you to the Alpha of Ironfang Pack."
Clara's voice shook, but her words cut. "You're not marrying me off. You're selling me. Trading me for a debt I don't even owe."
"Quiet, child!" her father snapped. His tone was cold enough to freeze the air. "This is duty. And you will do it with a smile on your face and joy in your heart."
He gestured toward the hall. "Now go. Get ready. The Alpha has high tastes, and you are going to be his Luna. You need to look the part."
They left her standing alone, speechless.
The silence that followed pressed down on her like a weight.
Clara wrapped her arms around herself, tears threatening to spill. She had dreamed of freedom one day, but not like this. Not sold into a future she couldn't see.
"Maybe this is my chance," she whispered, her voice breaking. "If I run now," she paused, swallowing. "I could be free." Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
But another voice stirred, low and ancient, vibrating in her bones.
"Leave now," it warned, "and you will be branded a rogue. Your destiny will be destroyed."
Clara's breath stopped in her throat.
The voice wasn't hers.
Yet it echoed through her chest, undeniable.
Her wolf. Silent all these years, whispering now.
She looked around the empty room, trembling. Her hands shook, her tears fell unchecked.
The voice wasn't hers.
It hit her in the ribs like a warning. 'Run and be ruined.'
Instead, her wolf said one sharp, stubborn word.
"Stay."