Chapter 1
791 Words
Blood. Smoke. Screams.
Kael Draven walked through it all like a god of war.
The pack had fallen in less than an hour—cowards, all of them. Weak-blooded wolves who thought hiding a traitor would protect them from his wrath. It didn't.
His boots crunched over bone as he moved through the ruins of the main house, a flicker of moonlight catching on the blade still dripping crimson. His soldiers looted behind him, howling their victory.
But Kael felt nothing.
Not triumph.
Not vengeance.
Just emptiness.
Until he smelled her.
Not wolf. Not warrior. Something softer. Frightened. Hidden.
Mate.
He froze mid-step. The scent curled around his mind—sweet like crushed violets, sharp like broken glass. It was wrong. Impossible. He had no mate. Not anymore.
The scent drew him to the floorboards.
He ripped the cellar door off with a single movement, tossing it aside like paper. Darkness stared back at him—then a whimper.
She was curled in a corner, shaking, wrapped in torn blankets like a wild thing. Dirt smeared her face. Her wrists were bruised, her eyes swollen. She looked up—
And time stopped.
Wide eyes met his. Not golden. Not silver. Just soft, earthy brown—like untouched soil after rain. Innocent. Terrified. Beautiful.
The bond hit him like a blade to the chest.
No.
Kael stepped back a single pace. His wolf surged forward, snarling mine. But Kael shoved him down.
She was wolfless. Worthless. Broken.
But she was his.
"Get up," he said, voice cold, sharp.
She didn’t move. Just shook harder.
He dropped into the cellar without a sound, landing a few feet from her. Her back hit the wall with a soft gasp. She was afraid of him. Good. She should be.
He reached out, just to make her stand—
But the moment his fingers brushed her wrist, she whimpered. Not from pain. From instinct.
Something inside him cracked.
"Who hurt you?" he asked, quieter now. Dangerous.
She flinched but said nothing.
The air between them thickened. His hand trembled as he pulled back.
He had conquered cities. Killed gods.
And yet this broken girl’s silence undid him more than all of it.
Kael stood, jaw tight.
"You're coming with me," he said flatly.
She didn’t move.
He growled low. "Now."
And even though her legs trembled, even though she looked at him like he was the monster from every nightmare—
She stood.
And followed.
Aria’s POV
She hadn’t seen sunlight in three days.
Not since Alpha Luther’s men dragged her down into the cellar and slammed the door shut behind her.
They told her it was punishment.
They told her she deserved it—for not shifting, for being wolfless, for existing.
But Aria had long stopped asking why.
Now she just counted the sounds.
One rat. Two drips. Three heavy footsteps. Then—
Bang.
The cellar door creaked open and a laugh echoed above. Her stomach turned.
Marla.
“Still breathing, mutt?” The beta’s daughter sneered, stepping down the wooden stairs, heels clicking with casual cruelty.
Aria curled tighter into herself, refusing to look up. That only made it worse.
“Aww, look at her. Still pretending she matters.” Marla crouched, grabbing a fistful of Aria’s hair and yanking her head back. “You don’t. You’re nothing.”
Another figure entered. Tobias. Taller. Crueler. He tossed a crust of bread on the dirt floor like she was an animal.
“You want it?” he asked with a smirk. “Beg.”
Aria’s throat tightened. She hadn’t eaten in two days. Her stomach screamed. But she stayed silent.
He kicked the bread into the shadows.
Marla’s hand cracked across her face, fast and sharp. Aria gasped, her cheek stinging with heat and shame.
“Speak when spoken to, b*tch.”
Tears welled up, hot and helpless. Aria bit her lip until it bled, trying to stop them.
But they came anyway.
Big, silent sobs.
The kind that burned your chest and broke your pride.
Marla’s voice dripped honeyed poison.
“Do you even know why you're still alive, wolfless?” She leaned in, breath curling like smoke near Aria’s ear. “Because no one bothers killing garbage. They just forget about it.”
The words sliced deeper than the slap.
The footsteps retreated. Laughter echoed.
Then silence.
Just the dark.
Just her breath.
Just the ache in her chest that never left anymore.
She curled into the blankets again, whispering a prayer to a moon that had never answered her.
“Please,” she whispered through the tears. “Let it end. Or let someone… find me.”
She didn’t expect either.
But then—
She smelled smoke.
And death.
And him.
- Writer
