Where the broken howl

Chapter Five

Elara

The hall was quiet. For once, at least, the chaos and cruelty of the pack were behind me. My muscles ached, my bruises throbbed, and the welts across my ribs and arms screamed in protest. I could barely lift my hands to wash my face without wincing. But still, I needed air. Space. A moment where the pack’s eyes, their whispers, and their punches weren’t pressing down on me.

I slipped past the kitchens and out into the woods behind the packhouse. The wind bit at my skin, but it was welcome. Alive. Real. It reminded me that I still existed, that I still had a body that could feel, a mind that could think — even if I was shaking, bruised, and weak.

My feet carried me further than I intended, toward the cliffs that jutted over the valley. I had been here before, alone. Not to enjoy the view. Not for anything so simple. Only to imagine… release. Escape. Freedom from the pack, from Maren, from my father, from everything.

The edge of the cliff loomed before me, gray and jagged in the fading light. I pressed my hands to my knees and bent over, the wind whipping my hair, the cold biting through my thin dress. Lyria’s words echoed in my head, tempting and cruel. It’d be easier, Elara. So much easier than facing what comes next.

Jump. One step and it would all end. No beatings, no fear, no Maren looming over me, no father waiting to deliver the next punishment. No more injections. No more chains. No more poison coursing through my veins to keep me weak.

My stomach clenched. My breath caught. But then another thought pierced through the haze: my wolf. My other self. My Lycan bound to me, a part of me I couldn’t abandon. To die here… to let myself fall… would doom it too. That would be selfish.

I pressed my hands tighter to my thighs and took a trembling breath. No. I couldn’t. Not yet. Not like this. Even battered, bruised, and broken, there was something stubborn inside me that refused to let go — a spark that had survived worse than this, a fragment of myself that would not surrender so easily.

I sank to the jagged stone, hugging my knees to my chest. My head rested on my arms, and I let myself breathe, slow and ragged. The wind carried the scent of the forest — moss, wet leaves, and something faintly sharp, like danger hidden in the shadows. My wolf stirred faintly at the edge of my mind, restless, alert, though I barely noticed it.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time felt meaningless here, above the valley, suspended between the choice to end it and the tiny spark of hope that whispered, wait.

A crackling sound — distant, like leaves snapping — made my head lift just slightly. My ears twitched, straining. Maybe it was a wolf. Maybe it was a rogue. Maybe it was the pack, coming to drag me back to misery.

My body trembled as I stood unsteadily, hands clutching the edge for support. I squinted into the fading light, heart hammering, trying to convince myself that no one was there.

But the forest felt alive now, charged with the unseen. Shadows shifted. A gust of wind carried a scent that made my stomach twist. Sharp. Wild. Unfamiliar. My wolf trembled inside me, restless and alert, responding to something I couldn’t yet name.

I didn’t notice the figure until I heard it: a movement too deliberate, too controlled to belong to the wind or wildlife. My breath hitched, panic rising. I tried to step back, to retreat, but my legs barely held me upright. Every bruise, every weakness, every scar reminded me I was not strong enough. I was alone. I was defenseless.

I pressed my back against the stone, curling slightly, heart hammering like it would burst from my chest. I closed my eyes, wishing desperately for the forest to swallow me whole. For just one moment, for just one second, I wanted to vanish.

And yet… I was still here.

My wolf stirred beneath the surface again, restless and insistent, a whisper of strength I didn’t fully recognize. Not fully mine, not fully wild — but a warning, a signal that I wasn’t completely helpless. That even in my despair, even in my weakness, there was something worth protecting.

I opened my eyes, letting the wind whip across my face. I was trembling, my muscles aching, my bruises burning, but for the first time in hours, I breathed not just from fear, but from sheer will.

I didn’t know what waited in the woods below the cliff. I didn’t know what I would face. I didn’t know if I could survive the night.

But I knew I wasn’t going to give up. Not yet.