Chapter Five: Flashback
678 Words
Ryder (Age 10)
The first time I saw her fight back, she was ten years old and bleeding from the lip.
Cassandra had pushed her — again — called her a mutt and threw her tray on the ground. The whole dining hall went quiet, waiting for Marshal to do what she always did: keep her head down, pick up the pieces, swallow her pride.
But that day, she didn’t.
She looked Cassandra dead in the eye and said, “Pick it up yourself, princess. Your hands aren’t broken.”
I remember choking on my water.
Cassandra turned red. One of the guards stepped forward, but Marshal didn’t flinch. She just stared, calm and bold, like she knew exactly what she was risking.
My heart did something weird in my chest.
Not fear.
Not pity.
Admiration.
Afterward, I snuck outside and found her sitting by the training field, cleaning blood from her lip with the edge of her sleeve.
“You’re going to get in serious trouble one day,” I said.
She didn’t even look up.
“Good,” she muttered. “Then they’ll stop pretending I’m invisible and admit they hate me.”
I sat beside her, silent.
She glanced over. “What? No lecture from the alpha’s golden son?”
I shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t break your jaw.”
She smirked. “Aww, how sweet. Do you check on all the servants, or just the redheaded ones?”
I flushed. “Just the loud ones.”
That made her laugh. I remember thinking it was the best sound I’d ever heard.
Ryder (Age 15)
My mother caught me talking to her again.
I told her we were just walking back from the well. That I’d only spoken to Marshal because it was polite.
She didn’t believe me.
“She’s not like us, Ryder,” my mother said. “You can’t afford to be soft with girls like that. She’s got nothing. No family. No future. She’ll only drag you down.”
I said nothing.
I never argued back then.
But that night, I lay awake wondering why kindness was such a crime.
The next day, I passed Marshal in the hallway.
She didn’t even look at me.
And I didn’t stop her.
Marshal (Age 17)
I should’ve known better than to walk near the training grounds on Ryder’s birthday.
The pack always threw a celebration — loud music, food I didn’t get to taste, fake smiles layered over real power. Servants weren’t invited, obviously. But I’d been told to deliver extra towels to the showers, so I kept my head down, praying not to be noticed.
Of course, the Moon Goddess hates me.
I was halfway past the ring when I heard it.
“She still walks like she owns the place,” someone muttered — definitely Blaine, Ryder’s loudest shadow.
“Maybe if she stopped acting like a rabid raccoon, someone would actually look twice,” laughed another.
I gritted my teeth. Keep walking, I told myself. You’ve heard worse.
But then Ryder’s voice cut through it all.
“Come on, guys. That’s not fair.”
For a split second, I looked up — hope stupidly lighting in my chest.
Then he smirked.
“Raccoons have better hair.”
Laughter erupted.
My stomach dropped.
He looked me dead in the eye as they laughed — and didn’t blink.
He saw me.
He knew me.
And still, he said nothing else.
I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t flinch.
But something in me snapped quietly, like a bone that had finally had enough.
>“You okay?” Nina mind-linked, her voice a whisper in the back of my mind.
> “Yeah,” I lied. “Just towels.”
That night, I lay on my thin mattress with my jaw clenched so tight it ached. The bond hadn’t snapped into place yet — I was still a few months away from 18. But I remember thinking:
“If the Moon ever mates me to someone like him… I’ll run.”
- Writer
