Chapter 1: The Three Knives
1067 Words
The Choosing Circle stinks of roses and blood.
I hate both.
Five hundred wolves watch from the stands, all dressed in ceremonial white. They look like teeth. I’m the only one in black. My mother said it was “elegant.” I think she knew I wouldn’t be chosen.
“Luna candidates, step forward.” Elder Miriam’s voice carries without a mic.
Seven of us walk to the center. The dirt is cold under my bare feet. I keep my chin up. Don’t let them see your hands shake, Ella.
The three Alpha heirs stand opposite us. Rowan, Jace, Theo. Future rulers of the Northern, Eastern, and Western packs. All twenty-one, all stupidly handsome, all promised to the goddess that they’d choose today.
Rowan steps up first. Blond, broad, mean smile. He looks down the line of girls like he’s picking fruit. His eyes skip me. Land on Sera from the Silverfang pack.
“I choose Sera,” he says. “My Luna. My match.”
The crowd cheers. Sera cries. Her wolf shimmers behind her eyes, gold and happy. Rowan kisses her knuckles. Done.
One down.
My stomach knots anyway. Stupid. He was never going to pick the girl with no wolf.
Jace is next. Quiet Jace. He used to share his lunch with me when we were kids, before everyone realized I was empty. He doesn’t look at me either. He picks Mara.
“I choose Mara.”
Mara faints. The crowd laughs. Two down.
Theo steps forward last. He’s the smart one. The one who sent me a letter once: If I had a choice, I’d pick you. I burned it.
He looks at me. Really looks. For one second my heart does something dumb and hopeful.
Then he smiles. It’s the smile he uses for trade deals.
“I choose no one,” Theo says. “My pack needs a Luna with strength. I will wait for my true match.”
The crowd murmurs. That’s not how this works. You pick. But Theo is heir to the richest pack. He does what he wants.
Elder Miriam frowns. “Alpha Theo, you must—”
“Three candidates remain,” Rowan cuts in. He’s bored now. “Might as well finish it.”
He points at me. My blood goes cold.
“You. Ella Shaw.”
Every head turns. I forget how to breathe.
Rowan walks toward me. He’s grinning. This isn’t a choice. This is a show.
He stops one foot away. Close enough that I smell mint and leather. Close enough that everyone sees when he laughs.
“You don’t have a wolf,” he says. Loud. Clear. “You’re empty. Choosing you would weaken my bloodline.”
The stands go silent. Then someone giggles.
Heat climbs my neck. I force my hands to stay at my sides. Don’t cross your arms. That’s hiding. Don’t let him see.
“I reject you, Ella Shaw,” Rowan says. “As my mate. As my Luna. As anything.”
The words hit like claws. The rejection bond slices through my chest, looking for a wolf that isn’t there to take the hit. So it takes me instead.
I stumble. Pain whites out my vision for a second. When I can see again, Rowan is already walking away.
Jace moves next. He doesn’t smile. He looks sick. But he still does it.
“I reject you too, Ella Shaw,” he says, voice low. “I can’t… I’m sorry.”
Two. The second cut hurts worse because he means it. My knees buckle. I catch myself before I fall. Don’t you dare fall, Ella.
Theo is last. He doesn’t come close. He stays where he is, hands in his pockets.
“Ella,” he says. Soft. Like the letter. “You know I can’t.”
He doesn’t say the words. He doesn’t have to. The bond snaps anyway.
Third.
I can’t breathe. It feels like three knives in my ribs, twisting. There’s no wolf to take the pain, so my human body has to. My vision flickers.
The crowd is whispering now. Wolfless. Empty. Shouldn’t even be here.
Elder Miriam clears her throat. “The Choosing is complete. The rejected candidate may—”
I don’t hear the rest. I turn and walk.
Don’t run. Running is weakness. Walking is choice.
The dirt turns to grass. Then to the gravel path that leads to the forest. If I can make it to the trees, I can scream where no one hears.
“Ella!” My mother’s voice. I don’t stop.
My chest is on fire. Each step pulls the knives deeper. I press a hand to my ribs. Come on. Ten more steps.
“Miss Shaw.”
That’s not my mother. That’s not anyone from my pack.
The voice is deep. Quiet. It doesn’t shout, but it stops every bird in the forest.
The whispers behind me die.
I turn, slow.
The crowd has parted. Wolves are dropping to their knees, heads bowed. Even Rowan. His face is white.
A man walks through them. Black hair. Black suit, not ceremonial white. No crown. Kings don’t need them.
Alpha King Caelan Drayce.
Ruler of all packs. The one we only see at wars and coronations. The one who hasn’t taken a Luna in a hundred years.
He stops five feet from me. His eyes are grey like winter storms. They don’t look at the crowd. They look at me.
And then he does something no one expects.
The Alpha King drops to one knee.
On the gravel. In front of the three heirs who just gutted me. In front of five hundred witnesses.
His head bows.
“My Queen,” he says.
His voice is calm. Certain. Like he’s stating the weather.
The knives in my chest stop twisting.
Because something else starts.
Deep. So deep I thought it was bone. A heat, rolling over. A voice, older than mine.
Little moon, it purrs. Shall we show them?
My back arches before I can stop it. My nails bite into my palms.
And my eyes flash silver.
Elder Miriam gasps. “That color… that’s extinct.” Rowan takes a step back. “No. She’s wolfless. She has to be—” The King stands, still looking only at me. “Stand up, Ella,” he says. “And let’s tell them who you really are.”
- Writer
