Claimed By The Enemy Alpha

Chapter Three

Faye

The days after the failed wedding was hell.

The bullying did not stop. If anything, it got worse. Servants who used to look away when I walked past now whispered openly, their voices though hushed, were loud enough to hear. Warriors stepped into my path so I had to walk around them, and Stephen found new ways to humiliate me every single day.

But I did not flinch anymore.

I lifted my chin and kept walking, ignoring the whispers as I passed the burly looking gentlemen in the training grounds. Judging from the weapons they polished with careful, practiced hands, I could tell they were preparing for the Moon Raid.

The Moon Raid was a traditional hunt that our pack celebrated, and it usually came after a wedding. The groom was expected to compete against his bride's father in a hunting match and emerge as the victor, a symbolic passing of strength from one family to another. But since my groom had not shown up, every male wolf in the pack would participate in the hunt instead.

"Is that not the pack reject?" one of them asked. I recognized him as Sloane, Stephen's closest friend and partner in cruelty.

"Yup," the second guy replied, loud enough for me to hear. "I heard the groom did not show. Poor thing."

"You heard? Were you not at the wedding?" the third guy asked.

The second guy shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated indifference. "I cannot concern myself with such things."

Then they broke into laughter and walked away, their boots crunching against the gravel.

I looked over my shoulder at their retreating forms and sighed. Could they not find anything better to talk about? Did they have nothing more interesting in their lives than mocking a girl who had already been left bleeding on the floor of an empty wedding hall?

My eyes trailed to the bright red bow and arrow sitting just ahead on a wooden pedestal. The weapon was meant for the groom during the hunt, a ceremonial tool that represented his strength and his right to claim victory. Right now, no one wielded it.

But I stared at the weapon, I stared at it till something stirred in my chest like an animal waking from a long sleep. Then, after making sure no one was watching, I walked over and lifted it.

Effortlessly.

My hands did not shake, not for one single second. Instead, they felt alive, like they were meant for holding bows and for drawing strings. I ignored the clothes I had been ordered to collect and picked up the bow and the arrows, turning them over in my hands to feel the smooth wood and the tight string.

For the next few weeks, I lived a double life. In the morning, I ran errands and suffered insults and jabs from my stepmother and my brother, keeping my head down and my mouth shut. I played the role of the useless daughter because it was easier than fighting. But at night, I snuck to the training fields to train, and I became someone else entirely.

It was just me and the darkness, me and my mother's last words echoing through the night as I swung and kicked and punched and fought my way through every shadow. I was building my strength, and they just did not know it.

And every night, when I stopped to rest, I thought about Damon.

I thought about the way he had held me after the rogues attacked, the warmth of his chest against my cheek and the steady beat of his heart under my ear. I thought about the way he had smiled at me and said my name like it mattered, like I was someone worth remembering.

He had left me at the altar, left me for the whole pack to see, left me without a single word of explanation. And I still loved him.

That was the worst part. Even after everything, even after the humiliation and the cruelty and my father's boot on my chest, I still wanted him. I still hoped.

"He is not coming back," I whispered to the empty training ground. "He does not want you."

But my heart did not listen, and I trained harder. I pulled the bowstring until my fingers bled, and ran till my legs gave out. I poured every ounce of my heartbreak into my body.

In a few days, the day of the hunt arrived. The pack gathered in the arena, and my father stood on his throne, applauding Stephen as if the victory was already his.

I watched from the shadows, and I made my decision.

The Moon Raid was supposed to be for men only. Women were forbidden. The punishment for breaking that rule was severe, possibly even death.

But I did not care anymore.

I had been humiliated, rejected, and told I should have died with my mother. I had nothing left to lose.

I walked down the path where I had hidden my armour and my arrows, and I strapped the bow across my back.

I was joining the hunt.

And no one was going to stop me.