AWAKENING DREW

PAIN

The pain is a living thing, white-hot and jagged, tearing through my body. I curl into a ball on the cold, damp floor of the dungeon, my breath hitching in my throat. I wish for the end. Anything would be better than this—than the Black Den. They call this a pack, but it is a hollow, cruel place. My parents abandoned me to these people when I was an infant, and I have spent sixteen years wondering why they didn’t just leave me to the mercy of the elements. It would have been a kindness.

My childhood wasn't measured in years, but in chores. I began as a servant, a small shadow running errands, then a starving messenger boy. By seven, the errands were replaced by bruises. By ten, my lack of a wolf became my greatest sin. Alpha Wollet decided then that my birthday would be a festival of pain, a tradition of torture to punish me for my failure to shift.

But the darkness truly swallowed me at fourteen. That was the year they stopped beating me and started destroying me. I carry those memories like open wounds; they haunt my waking hours and turn my sleep into a battlefield. Now, I am nothing more than a punching bag for the pack house. My existence is defined by the whims of Alex Wollet, the future Alpha, and his partner, Anita—a woman whose cruelty is matched only by her depravity.

Yesterday was my sixteenth birthday. By tradition, it should have been the day I found my mate, the day my life finally began. Instead, it was the day the Alpha threw me into the dungeon. Three men were sent to break me, and once they were done, the Alpha laughed as he dragged me out, mocking the idea that anyone would claim a "wolfless weakling." No one stepped forward. I was thrown back into the darkness of the basement, and for the first time, I let the silence consume me.

In the shadows, I fell into a strange, heavy sleep. I was running down a long, infinite hallway, a massive, predatory beast stalking my heels. I ducked into a room, my heart hammering against my ribs, and hid in the corner. When I finally dared to look up, I found myself staring into eyes of molten gold.

The creature was magnificent—seven feet of shadow-black fur, his chest marked with a glowing golden crescent moon.

"Damien, do not fear me. I am Apollo, your wolf."

The voice echoed in my soul. I could only stare. "The Moon Goddess cursed me," I whispered. "I am empty. I have no wolf."

"No, Damien," the beast rumbled, his voice thick with ancient sorrow. "Selene loves you. I am simply... late. Royal wolves require a longer forging. The process takes time, and we do not manifest until the bond is ready."

"I am no royalty," I countered, my voice trembling. "I am a slave. I am sixteen, and I am broken."

Apollo bowed his head, his muzzle scraping the floor in a gesture of profound regret. "I know what they have done to you. I have been weaving my strength into your broken bones for years, healing you from the inside. I am sorry I am two years late."

I reached out, my fingers trembling as I touched his fur. It felt like coming home. In that moment, I offered a silent prayer of gratitude to the Moon Goddess. I accepted him, and he accepted me. A bridge was finally built across the divide of my soul.

Then, I jolted awake.

Sweat drenched my skin and pain flared through my limbs, and for a terrifying second, I thought it had been a cruel hallucination. I reached out through the mental fog. Apollo?

Silence. My heart plummeted. It was just a dream—a cruel, taunting dream.

Then, it happened.

A searing heat tore through my veins. My bones cracked and reset, popping into perfect alignment. A rush of power, vast and wild as a tornado, surged through my limbs, throwing me backward with such force that the wooden frame of my bed splintered beneath me.

“It was not a dream, Drew,” Apollo’s voice resonated in my mind, vibrant and fierce. “I am here to stay. We must find our mate, and we must leave this place. We cannot stay here another hour.”

I stood up, feeling the hum of new power vibrating under my skin. "Okay," I whispered into the dark, my eyes hardening. "We will do as you say. We will start the chores, we will find our mate, but you must stay hidden. I won't let them sense the change. Not yet."

I felt Apollo nod, then he receded into the shadows of my mind.

I moved with the familiar, practiced limp—a shroud of weakness to keep their eyes averted. As I set the trestle tables for the morning meal, I dared not let the spark of hope in my chest show on my face. When the task was complete, I struck the iron bell. The pack members poured into the hall like a rising tide, taking their places as they awaited the Alpha.

They arrived together, hand in hand. The moment Anita crossed the threshold, the air soured. A sweet, cloying scent reached me, choked by the stench of rot and decay.

"Yes, Drew," Apollo’s voice curled with a sneer from the back of my mind. "That is our fated bond, yet the rot upon her spirit proves she is not pure and unworthy of the crown."

My eyes found her. When our gazes locked, I did not look away. Anita paused, her eyes widening before a cruel, sharp laugh escaped her. She strode toward me, her voice ringing through the hall, silencing the murmurs of the pack.

"By the Goddess," she mocked, gesturing to me as if I were a speck of filth. "She has bound me to this broken creature? Alex, come, hold me lest I perish from laughter!"

The hall erupted. Even Alpha Wollet entered then, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he watched the spectacle.

"I, Anita Black," she proclaimed, her voice echoing off the stone walls, "reject you, Drew, as my mate."

I fell to my knees, burying my face to hide the triumph that threatened to break my stoic mask. I clutched my chest, mimicking the agony expected of a rejected wolf. "I, Drew, accept your rejection," I whispered, my voice trembling with practiced despair. When I risked a glance upward, I saw only malice in her eyes. She was elated.

The pack roared with derision. The Alpha’s voice boomed over the din, "Take this useless husk. Strip him of his rags and cast him into the wilderness beyond the forbidden border. Let the winter winds or the rogues finish what the Moon Goddess failed to strike down."

I welcomed the hands that dragged me toward the door. I would not have to flee like a thief; they were casting me out of their own volition. Apollo was a storm of silent, jagged laughter within me. The pack beat me as they dragged me toward the forest, their blows raining down like iron, yet I felt only the lightness of the chains falling away.

When they finally cast me into the dark, silent woods and the border crossing caused the pack-link in my mind to snap, the silence that followed was the sweetest sound I had ever known. They left me for dead, but the moment their heavy footsteps faded, Apollo surged forward.

My bones knit back together, the agony replaced by a searing, ancient power. I stood, my stride no longer a lie. I turned my back on the Black Den and began to run.

I was no longer a slave. The Goddess had gifted me this rejection as the key to my cage. I moved through the deep woods, my eyes searching the horizon of a world I was only just beginning to understand. Apollo’s voice hummed in my blood: two years to sharpen my blade, to learn the ancient tongues, and to prepare for the mantle of the Alpha King. My life was finally my own.