The air smelled of roasting meat and spilled ale, thick with smoke from bonfires that burned high into the night. The pack had gathered in the great hall, a sprawling chamber of stone and timber, its walls lined with mounted wolf pelts and trophies from hunts. Long tables groaned under platters of venison, dripping fat and blood, while warriors raised mugs and roared with laughter.
Tonight was a celebration—of strength, of dominance, of the Alpha’s reign. And for the orphans, it was another kind of night altogether.
They were dragged from the orphanage in chains, wrists bound, collars locked around their necks. Warriors jeered as they herded them like cattle toward the hall. Children whimpered, their bare feet raw from stone and gravel.
Selena walked at the front, chin high, refusing to
