Dare to Shift

CHAPTER FOUR

Secrets Beneath the Surface

The next morning, I woke with more energy than I thought possible.

For the first time in years, there was no dull ache in my limbs, no lingering weight of despair pulling me down. I stretched beneath the silky blue sheets and stepped out of bed, barefoot against the cool marble floor, drawn toward the door I instinctively knew led to the bathroom.

As I entered, the scent of lavender oil and sandalwood wrapped around me like a luxurious embrace. The room was breathtaking—glass walls, a clawfoot tub centered beneath a chandelier, and blue marble that shimmered like frozen waves. It all smelled… expensive. Sacred. Royal.

I approached the bathtub and reached for the faucet, twisting and turning without success. Nothing. Then suddenly—

Whooosh.

The faucet hissed to life, water gushing into the tub, startling me so badly I almost tripped.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

I spun around, my heart thundering.

Jane.

She stood near the doorway, holding a sleek remote in one hand, her expression apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said gently. “I thought you might need help. The controls can be tricky.”

I nodded, trying to calm my racing heart. She stepped past me and began fixing the bath, her movements fluid and practiced. I watched in silence, still adjusting to being treated like someone who mattered.

After bathing, Jane helped me into a dress she’d laid out for me—black, sleek, and unfamiliar. It was a straight-necked maxi dress that hugged my figure in all the right places, subtly accentuating curves I usually hid beneath baggy clothes. My reflection in the mirror made me pause.

I looked… like someone else. Or maybe I was just meeting the woman I was meant to become.

“Isn’t this too much for breakfast?” I asked, brushing my hands over the fabric. My voice held a nervous tremor.

Jane smiled, but her eyes flickered. “You might be meeting The Seven.”

I turned toward her. “The Seven?” My brows drew together in confusion.

“They’re also known as The Council. They're the secret society of Werewolf Nobles of this domain with Alpha Dale heading them. No one knows they exist except the people in this house.” She explained.

" What do they do?” Jane's explanation had spurred my curiosity.

Her face went unreadable. “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s all I can say.”

Before I could press further, Alpha Dale’s voice echoed faintly from outside the dining room.

“She’ll be here any moment.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and walked toward the grand doors. With a gentle push, I stepped inside.

Six pairs of eyes turned to me.

I gave a small bow, as I'd seen my mother do once in front of councilmen, and moved to the only empty seat—between Alpha Dale and a regal-looking woman who bore a striking resemblance to him.

“Everyone,” Alpha Dale said, “this is Deanna Woodall.”

Murmurs followed. Faces tightened. A name lingered in the air like incense.

“Paul’s daughter?” a man with white hair asked, pushing it back from his youthful face.

My heart froze. “You knew my father?”

He glanced at Alpha Dale, then nodded. But it was Dale who answered.

“Five years ago, we got intel that Harold planned to wipe out every Alpha across Moondale and crown himself as the only ruler. We sent your father to spy—to gather evidence. But after a year… nothing. He disappeared.”

His voice was calm, measured. Mine was not.

“He didn’t disappear,” I whispered, eyes burning. “I watched him die.”

—

FOUR YEARS AGO

The memory crashed into me with the force of a wave.

I remember running into the house with my father, the smell of blood so thick I could taste it. And there she was—my mother—lifeless on the floor, crimson pooling beneath her body.

Before I could scream, my father covered my mouth and dragged me into the wardrobe.

“Whatever happens… you stay quiet. You stay alive,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Then darkness.

I watched through the crack as a woman burst into the house.

She moved with supernatural speed—before my father could shift, she’d already plunged her hand into his chest and ripped his heart clean out.

“Nuisance,” she spat, licking the blood before discarding him like trash.

I passed out before I could cry.

—

“I saw it happen,” I said now, my voice flat. “He was killed by rogues.”

“No,” the white-haired man said. “That’s what you were made to believe.”

I turned toward Dale, my hands trembling beneath the table.

“We found his last message. Harold was working hand in hand with the rogues. Then nothing. Then came the bloodbath.” Dale explained. “Harold didn't need a sword—he had the rogues do it for him. That's how he covers his tracks.”

The room spun.

The man I loved. The man I begged to choose me. The man who rejected me…

Killed my parents.

I tried to keep it together. My fingers locked tightly together, knuckles white, but my voice cracked as I stood.

“I need to go.”

Alpha Dale nodded solemnly, and I walked out of the room. As soon as the door clicked behind me, I dropped to a crouch, pressing my back to the cold wall as the tears came.

Quiet. Raw. Violent.

How could I grieve a love that never existed? How could I mourn a man who orchestrated my destruction?

Then I heard voices. Low. Dangerous.

“I don’t trust her,” someone said, male and sharp. “For all we know, Harold sent her.”

“She’s here because Dale chose her,” the woman replied coolly. “When has he ever been wrong?”

The man scoffed. “The moment I see one crack in her story, she dies.”

I straightened, wiped my tears, and walked back to my room.

—

Later that night, I sat on the bed, downing the last of a crystal tumbler of cognac. The bottle beside me was nearly empty. The fire in my chest dulled the pain but couldn’t erase it.

Then the door creaked open.

Alpha Dale.

He closed it behind him and stepped inside, his grey eyes locked on mine. His gaze shifted to the bottle and back again.

“You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.”

I didn’t respond.

He moved closer and sat beside me.

“How do you feel now?”

The silence lingered before I spoke.

“Why didn’t you just let me die?” I asked, my voice rough.

His eyes narrowed, but I wasn’t finished.

“I’m useless to you. I can’t even shift. I’m not special. Why save me?”

He leaned in, his scent distracting—warm cedar and power—and for a brief second, I wanted to feel something other than pain.

His breath ghosted against my lips—warm, slow, intoxicating. One inch closer, and I would’ve surrendered. One whisper, and I might’ve broken.

Then he whispered, “That’s what everyone thinks, Deanna. But you’ve been lying.”

My heart skipped.

“What?”

He pulled back slightly, just enough for me to see the fire in his eyes.

“When I found you by the river… you were in wolf form.”

The air left my lungs.

He extended his hand, and in a fluid motion, claws slid out from his fingers—deadly, silver, glowing faintly.

Then he pressed them gently to my neck.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, voice dark. “Why did Harold send you here?”