The Rise Of The Last White Wolf

Problem

Traci’s POV

By the time Calvin and I finished training the sky had barely started turning gray. Dawn stretched across the mountains in thin streaks while cold mist clung to the training field like it refused to let go of the night. Sweat dampened the back of my shirt, my muscles screamed from exhaustion, and my lungs still burned from the drills Calvin insisted would “keep me alive longer.”

Such a comforting statement before sunrise.

Training at four in the morning had become routine months ago. It was the only way I could survive both worlds. Calvin pushed me through combat before anyone woke up, then I rushed back to the pack house to become everybody’s favorite servant by seven.

Lucky me.

Breakfast had to be started before most of the pack even rolled out of bed. Eggs, biscuits, bacon, fruit, coffee. Endless coffee. Wolves acted like caffeine was some sacred gift from the Moon Goddess herself. If the pot went empty for more than thirty seconds people started acting like civilization had collapsed.

After breakfast was served and the kitchen cleaned, I handled the upstairs chores. Darcy’s room first. Always Darcy’s room. Hers looked like a tornado married a shopping addiction and decided to raise children together. Clothes everywhere. Toys under every surface. Half-eaten snacks shoved into drawers like hidden treasure.

Her sons, Edward, Alvin, and Aaron, somehow made even more mess than she did.

Then came the Alpha and Luna’s suite. Bigger room. Bigger ego. Same filth.

By the time I finished scrubbing floors and hauling laundry downstairs my body already felt heavy. Yesterday’s bruises still covered my ribs beneath my shirt, dark purple fading into sickly yellow. Every movement pulled at sore skin that never fully healed anymore.

I thanked Corbin and Marge after training cleanup and hurried outside toward the pack house again. The sun had barely risen over the trees.

I wasn’t late. Not even close. Which was exactly why my stomach dropped the second Beta Travis stepped directly into my path. “Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Before I could answer, his hand clamped around my arm hard enough to bruise.

“Traci, where have you been? You haven’t done a damn thing you were supposed to do.” His fingers dug deeper into my skin while he yanked me forward.

“Beta Travis,” I started carefully, “I was only taking a quick walk before chores…”

“You have not cleaned the rooms. Breakfast should’ve already been handled. Maybe you need a lesson.” The smirk on his face made my stomach twist.

I tried explaining again. Told him it wasn’t even time yet. Told him I had been heading there now.

Didn’t matter. Talking to Travis was like arguing with a brick wall if the brick wall had anger issues and smelled like whiskey.

He dragged me across the yard while pack members avoided looking at us. Nobody intervened. Nobody ever intervened.

The second we reached the dungeon entrance cold dread crawled down my spine.

Wonderful. Exactly how I wanted to start my morning.

Stone steps echoed beneath our feet as he hauled me downward. Damp air wrapped around me instantly, thick with mildew, rust, and old blood. Soft lights flickered against the walls casting ugly shadows across iron cages.

I knew better than to fight. I couldn’t reveal my strength.

Not yet.

“You’re going to learn your place one way or another,” Travis sneered. He grabbed a silver-tipped whip from the wall.

My pulse stuttered.

Silver. Of course it had silver. Because apparently basic torture wasn’t dramatic enough.

He chained my wrists above my head before I could brace myself. The metal bit into my skin while icy panic crept through my chest.

Then the first strike landed. Pain exploded across my back so violently my breath vanished. The second cut deeper. The third nearly dropped me.

By the fifth lash my vision blurred. Silver burned through flesh like acid, tearing into skin while agony rippled through my entire body. Blood soaked down my spine. My knees buckled repeatedly but the chains held me upright.

Somewhere during the beating I blacked out. More than once. I remembered waking briefly to another strike before darkness swallowed me again.

Normally wolves healed injuries quickly.

Normally. Except I still didn’t have mine. Double alpha blood should’ve triggered my wolf at fourteen. Regular wolves shifted at sixteen. Yet here I was at seventeen with nothing except silence where my wolf should’ve been.

No healing.

No strength.

No protection.

Just pain.

“Get up, you worthless wench.” His boot slammed into my side.

I gasped sharply while another wave of agony shot through my ribs.

He unchained my wrists roughly and I collapsed onto the floor before forcing myself upward. My arms trembled violently. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth as I wiped it away with shaky fingers.

“You have chores to finish,” he barked. “Move.”

I stumbled getting to my feet. Honestly, passing out sounded like the better option. When I accidentally looked toward him his expression darkened instantly.

“You piece of trash,” he snarled. “Don’t you dare look at me.”

Funny. Considering he kept demanding my attention every five seconds.

He grabbed my arm again and dragged me back toward the pack house. By the time we reached the kitchen I could barely breathe through the pain.

Wilma turned from the stove and froze. “Oh, sweetheart…” Her face crumpled immediately. “What happened to you?”

I swallowed hard trying not to cry. “I’m sorry I’m late,” I whispered. “Beta Travis stopped me.”

“Oh hush.” Wilma guided me carefully into a chair. “Don’t apologize for somebody else’s cruelty.”

She grabbed a rag and began cleaning blood from my face with gentle hands. Wilma had worked inside the pack house longer than half these people had been alive. She’d patched me together more times than I could count.

“Here.” She pressed herbs into my palm. “Take these. They’ll dull some pain.”

The kitchen door burst open seconds later. “What the hell, Traci?” Sarah stormed inside looking ready to commit several felonies.

I managed a weak smile. “Hey, Sarah. I’m okay.”

“You look half dead.”

“Technically still alive though. So that’s something.”

Her glare sharpened.

“Just one more month,” I whispered quietly. “I can survive one more month.”

Except deep down I wasn’t sure anymore. Each punishment got worse.

Longer.

Crueler.

Sarah crossed her arms. “Sit there and rest. Breakfast is already handled. I’ll help with the rooms.”

“You know they’ll punish you too.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. At this point I’m already on their dislike list. Might as well earn it.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me. Then her expression hardened. “They’re going to pay for this someday.”

After breakfast I forced myself upstairs. Every step sent pain slicing across my back. By the time I reached Darcy’s room sweat covered my forehead.

I paused outside the partially open door when I heard laughing inside.

“You should’ve seen it,” Darcy giggled. “After I complained about Traci, Dad punished her immediately. Didn’t even bother checking the time.”

Shelby laughed with her. “That stupid b***h deserves it.”

My stomach twisted.

Darcy continued, voice dripping with excitement. “Dad said she’ll finally be finished at the tournament.”

Silence slammed into my chest.

“Omg, seriously?” Shelby gasped.

Darcy laughed again. “Everything’s arranged. Her fights are set up. Fight to the death.”

The world tilted slightly beneath me. Blood rushed loudly through my ears.

I backed away from the doorway too fast and nearly lost my balance. My shoulder slammed against the wall while panic clawed through my chest.

Fight to the death. This wasn’t punishment anymore. They planned to kill me.

I stumbled into the nearby restroom and splashed cold water across my face with trembling hands.

“Sarah,” I mindlinked shakily. “Sarah, I know their plan.”

Fear surged through our bond instantly. Then I reached out again. “Corbin,” I whispered through the link, staring at my pale reflection. “We have a problem.”