Chapter 3: Baptized in Fire
1169 Words
POV: Freya
The rogue Alpha’s grip was firm as he helped me to my feet. I expected cruelty, but what I felt instead was… control. Cold, sharp control that wrapped around him like armor.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
I nodded, even though pain shot up my leg the moment I moved.
“Good,” he said. “We don’t coddle weakness.”
His words were blunt, but for once, they didn’t sting. Not like Kade’s. His rejection had been personal—spiteful. This man… this rogue Alpha didn’t know me. And yet, something in his gaze told me he’d seen girls like me before—broken, discarded, on the edge of dying and too stubborn to fall.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
He didn’t look back. “To survive.”
We walked through the forest for what felt like hours. The pain in my limbs grew duller with each step. The rogue wolves flanked us, silent and watchful, but no one touched me again.
By the time we reached their camp, the sun was climbing over the hills. The sky was bleeding orange and pink, like it had cried with me through the night.
The rogue camp wasn’t what I expected.
It wasn’t savage or chaotic. It was disciplined. Structured. Tents in a neat grid, patrols circling the perimeter, warriors sharpening blades. Wolves sparred in a ring made of broken stone and fire pits.
I wasn’t looking at criminals.
I was looking at soldiers.
“This is the Blackfang Clan,” the Alpha said. “You’ll follow my rules, or you won’t last a week. Understood?”
I swallowed hard. “Understood.”
He nodded once. “I’m Daemon.”
I blinked. “The Rogue King?”
His lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t amusement. “So they still tell stories about me?”
“They say you’re a traitor. A killer.”
“They’re not wrong,” he said flatly. “But they left out one detail—I kill for my own. And now, you’re mine.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I claimed you last night. In front of my wolves. You’re under my protection now. You carry my mark—whether you like it or not.”
My fingers flew to my neck. A faint, burning sensation pulsed just under my skin. No mark was visible, but I felt it—like invisible chains tied me to him.
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“No,” he said. “But you survived my wolves. That means you earned your place here. Now earn the rest.”
He turned to leave. “Mara will find you some clothes. Your training starts at dusk.”
Later That Night
The training ring smelled like ash and blood.
I stood in borrowed boots two sizes too big, wearing clothes that hung from my frame like a scarecrow. Around me, warriors circled like sharks. Curious. Hungry.
Mara, the tall she-wolf with scarred arms and silver eyes, stood across from me. “You ever fight before?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Good.” She cracked her knuckles. “Means I don’t have to waste time breaking bad habits.”
The first blow came fast. A punch to the gut that knocked the wind out of me.
I doubled over, gasping.
The second came harder—across the face. I fell to the dirt, tasting blood.
“Get up,” she snapped.
I pushed myself to my knees.
“Again.”
She didn’t stop. Not when I cried. Not when I begged. Not when I bled.
She beat me until the edges of my vision blurred and my limbs refused to obey. Then she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up.
“Your pain doesn’t make you special,” she hissed. “We’ve all been through hell here. You want to survive? Fight back.”
I spat blood at her feet.
She grinned. “There she is.”
Days Turned to Weeks
Pain became routine. My body ached constantly. My hands blistered from hours of combat drills. My ribs were bruised. My pride long gone.
But slowly, something inside me began to change.
The girl who once cried beneath the moon started to fade.
I started standing straighter. Punching harder. Running faster.
I started looking back.
Daemon watched from the shadows often, never interfering, always observing. His presence burned hotter than anyone else’s.
“You learn quickly,” he said one night as I staggered past him, drenched in sweat.
I wiped my face. “I have to.”
He studied me for a moment. “Why?”
My throat tightened. “Because I want to kill the man who broke me.”
His eyes didn’t blink. “You think strength will make him regret it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Strength will make me stop regretting myself.”
He stared at me a moment longer. Then nodded. “Good answer.”
One Month Later
I no longer looked like the girl who stumbled into the forest crying.
My hair was tied back in a braid, my shoulders broader, my eyes colder. I moved like a weapon—not polished yet, but no longer dull.
Tonight, Daemon called me to his tent.
I stepped inside, heart steady.
He sat by a fire, swirling whiskey in a glass. His tent smelled of leather and smoke, and beneath it, something darker—something like power barely held in check.
“You’ve survived,” he said.
“I’ve earned my place,” I replied.
He nodded. “Then it’s time we talk about what you want.”
“I want revenge.”
He tilted his head. “Be specific.”
“I want Alpha Kade to suffer. I want him to see me again—and realize what he lost. I want to destroy the pride he used to crush me.”
A smile touched his lips. “Now we’re speaking the same language.”
“But I don’t want your pity,” I added. “Or your protection.”
“Good,” he said. “Because you’re not getting either. I’m offering power. Tools. A pack that lives outside the laws of weak Alphas. If you want vengeance, I’ll make you strong enough to take it.”
I stared at him. “What’s the price?”
His eyes gleamed. “Loyalty. Not to me. To yourself. To the wolf you’re becoming.”
I felt the truth in those words like fire in my veins.
“I’m in.”
He stood and stepped closer. “Then the girl who was broken is dead. You are Freya Nightfall—reborn.”
His fingers touched the invisible mark on my neck. “And soon, they will all remember your name.”
I met his gaze.
And for the first time since Kade rejected me… I believed him.
- Writer
