Broken Wolves

4

AMANDA

“ Please, take me.”

My muscles strained with the cuffs restraining my movement and giving me no freedom to move as I was utterly useless against Ashton’s mercy. Goddess. It feels so good. I told him to break me-to ruin me-to use me all he wants and he didn’t disappoint.

He was just supposed to take me home after our class earlier but he made me want him so badly I allowed him inside of my room.

“ You really f*****g love being our lady, huh?” he smirked, touching my face and barely containing how much he enjoys this. He was smiling to himself as he spread my legs further and further until I’m too exposed to cover myself. “ Oh, look at that. You’re already wet.”

I made a noise to let him know I wanted his touch but he’s just watching me as he slowly caresses my body with a gentle touch.

For a long moment, I thought he’ll give it right to me. But Ashton was merciless. He’s evil in his own ways and I f*****g love that about him.

“Ugh..”

I wake with a groan, pain shooting through every inch of me. My skin feels like it’s been flayed open, each bruise and cut sending fiery reminders that my body is no longer mine to control. The air around me is cold and damp, but it doesn’t ease the burning in my muscles, my bones, my soul.

My head spins as I try to sit up. My throat is raw, dry like the desert, and I feel the weight of something—someone—near me. Their touch is slow, gentle, too careful, almost as if I’m fragile. I want to lash out, to shove them away, but my body is too weak, too drained to even move.

A man’s voice. Low, soothing. “Hold still, Amanda.”

I froze, my pulse quickening, and I quickly tried to get up to fight for myself but I’m too weak, too tired to even move. I tried to squirm under this stanger’s touch, trying to find a way out but I couldn’t.

What happened to me?

I can’t remember anything. Goddess. But I’m not in a cage, rather it’s a soft warm bed I have never had in months.

A voice. Deep. Low. “Hold still, Amanda.”

I freeze. The sound of my name, soft on his tongue, sends a spike of confusion through me. I don’t recognize it, don’t recognize him.

I try to push against the hands, desperate to break free, but my arms are leaden, and my legs barely respond. What the hell happened? How did I get here?

Did they catch me?

I don’t know. The last thing I remember is pain—so much pain—and then the dark, endless pull of unconsciousness. Conan. The thought of him sends a chill through me, sharp and bitter. Had he come for me? The pack? Had they found me?

But this—this doesn’t feel like them. There’s no anger in his touch, no harshness. No chains, no cuffs. No hate.

Whoever this is, it isn’t my captor. Not yet.

I try to push past the fear that’s creeping into my chest. I’ve been broken before, betrayed, hunted, left for dead. I can’t afford to trust anything that seems too… gentle.

I swallow hard, trying to calm my racing heart. “Who are you?” I rasp, my voice a rough whisper.

But the stranger doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues his work, wiping the blood and dirt from my skin with slow, deliberate movements. Each touch is careful, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter under him.

My instincts scream at me to fight, to claw my way out of this, but all I can do is lie here and let him work.

“I don’t need your help,” I snapped, forcing the words through my dry throat. It comes out bitter, raw. “Leave me the hell alone.”

But he just ignores me. Doesn’t flinch. Don't back off. Just keeps on like I’m some wounded animal he has to tend to. And the worst part? I hate how it feels. I hate that I don’t want to push him away. I hate how the heat of his hands on my skin doesn’t feel like betrayal. Not yet.

I bite down on the feeling. No. I’m not doing this. I don’t trust anyone. Not after everything.

“What do you want?” My voice cracks, but I force it through anyway, desperate to push him back. Desperate to pull myself together.

His hand stills, then he finally speaks, low like it’s no big deal. “Nothing.”

I growl, low and dangerous, but even I can hear how weak it sounds. “Then why the hell are you touching me?”

His answer is calm, steady. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

I bark out a laugh, but it’s broken, jagged. “Help me? You’ve got to be kidding. No one helps for free.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be lying here. You’d be back with Conan.”

The name hits me like a punch to the gut. Conan. s**t. He knows. He f*****g knows who I am.

Fear crawls up my spine, cold and sharp. I push harder against him. “What the hell do you know about Conan?”

He doesn’t answer. Don't blink. He just continues what he’s doing and I can’t damn see his face.

I reach for something—anything—grabbing a metal cup from the side table and hurling it at him. It clatters against the wall, missing by inches. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. He’s just standing there, watching me with that goddamn calm expression.

“Who the hell are you?” I force the words out, my voice raw. “What the hell do you know about Conan? Why the hell are you just standing there?”

“Rest,” he says. Simple. Like I’ve got a choice. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I want to scream at him, tell him I don’t need anyone’s help, that I’ll make it on my own. But the walls I’ve built around myself are starting to crack. Something in his eyes makes me wonder—maybe… just maybe… I can let my guard down.

But no.

I can’t trust. Not now. Not ever.

Then, the door creaks open, and my heart skips a beat. My pulse spikes, every instinct screaming danger.

A figure steps inside. Tall, strong. The air in the room shifts, thickens, like everything changes in that single breath.

The stranger beside me steps back, bowing his head. “Alpha, it’s time.”

Alpha.

My breath catches. Then he moves.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned around and for a split second, everything inside me froze.

His eyes are too perfect. Too beautiful, in the way a predator is beautiful. But there’s nothing soft in them. Nothing gentle. Just raw, hungry power. Dangerous power. But what catches me—what tears the last shreds of calm I had left—is the scar.

The jagged X across that I remember so f*****g well because I’m the one who carved it.

No. No. It can’t be him.

My mouth goes dry. I try to speak, but the words are trapped in my throat. I force them out anyway. “N-No… you can’t be…”

He smiles, slow, dangerous. Like he’s savoring this moment. Like he’s enjoying watching me fall apart. “ How have you been, mate?”

Mate.

The word slashes through me like a blade, splitting open the walls I’ve spent years building around myself. I want to scream. I want to run. But I can’t move. Can’t breathe. He’s here.

Alive.

And everything about him, every ounce of power he exudes, is a reminder of the destruction I caused. Of the night I let loose and took something I never should have.

This nightmare, this beast standing in front of me, was supposed to be dead. I killed him. Or, at least, I thought I did.

My mate.

My f*****g mate.

How did he survive?

The first time I felt it, I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know what the hell I was. Back in the old pack, just a girl, I felt that pull, that primal call drawing me toward him. The power roared through me, raw and untamed, for the first time. It was too much.

He was my mate. My f*****g mate.

And I killed him.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know how the hell I lost control, but I remember the blood. His blood. It was in my hands, and I felt it. The power, the rage, it tore through me like a storm. I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t want to stop it.

One moment, he was there, staring at me like I was the answer to everything he’d ever wanted. The next...

He was dead.

I didn’t mourn him. I couldn’t. I was exiled. Cast out. Left to rot, to fight for scraps like a wild animal. But the pack didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what I had done. They didn’t know what he had become.

And now, standing before me, there’s no question. He’s not dead.

The blood on my hands was never enough to stop him.

His eyes lock onto mine—dark, cold, hungry. I know what he is. What he’s capable of. And my body betrays me, every nerve on fire, every inch of me aching for something I can’t name.

No. f**k no.

“You thought you could kill me, didn’t you?” His voice is low, like a growl, wrapping around me like a noose. His smirk twists deeper as he steps forward, as if savoring my fear, my confusion. “f**k, do you know how hard it is to find you? Amanda is a good choice of name by the way.”

“Get away from me.” My voice cracks, but the words burn with venom.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

"Too late," he sneers, stepping closer, his presence suffocating. "You don’t control this anymore."

I try to push away. My body’s a f*****g wreck. But I fight. I always fight.

His hand drags across my cheek, slow, possessive. My stomach turns. The bond. That bond. The one I tried to forget. It pulls me in like a goddamn magnet.

I hate it.

I f*****g hate it.

But it’s there.

And he knows it.

"Not running this time, are you?" he whispers, voice dark, and I can’t breathe.

Years ago, I had my mate. My true mate.

I killed him.

Didn’t mean to. But I didn’t know what I was—what I could do. One wrong move, one spark of power, and he was gone.

I thought that was it. But no.

Then the Crescent Prince found me—or maybe I found them. I became their lady, their pet, their toy. Thought I had a plan. Thought I was in control.

Then Conan intervened. And I lost it all.

But now? The bastard I killed is back.

And he’s not here for redemption.

He’s here for me.

And the truth is–I came to Crescent High for revenge.

I am Amanda St. Claire. Was.

But the truth? The truth is I’m Selene. The last living descendant of the Moon Goddess. The bloodline they thought they could erase. The power they trembled at. The goddess they hoped would stay buried.

But no one buried me. No one.

The Crescent Pack—those fools—have something I want. Something they think I’ll beg for. Something they think they can control. That’s why I walked into their den, why I played their f*****g games. I thought I could handle it.

I thought I could twist them around my finger, stay in control.

But I underestimated them. I underestimate their lust, passion sand the monsters lurking behind the shadow of those smiles. I thought I could walk away unscathed, leave them playing in their little sandbox while I took what I needed. But they didn’t just play games. No. They devoured me piece by piece, made me believe I was just a pawn in their world.

I fell in love with them.

I let my guard down, let the beast inside me get too close, too tangled in their f*****g chaos. I believed their lies, let myself be consumed by their twisted affection, their promises of power, and their poisoned touch.

But love? It was never real. It was just another weapon, another tool they used to pull me under. To break me.

I’ve been played. Manipulated. Stripped down and bled dry.

I lost my power. My protection. My f*****g soul.

And now the only person I’ve ever feared—the one I thought was gone—is back.

His name is Theodus. My mate. The one I killed. The one I thought I erased. The one who knows the truth—the truth I’ve been running from. The darkness inside me. The bloodline they all want to bury.

He remembers everything. And now, he’s come to drag me back to hell.