Chapter 2: Awakening of the Wolf
1463 Words
Hands grabbed Daisy's arms.
The nearest man kicked the box of wine from her grip; it crashed, glass and red liquid exploding over the stones.
“Let go of me!" Daisy twisted hard.
“Relax, princess," another man said behind her. “We don't want to kill you. Unless you make us."
“I'm Alpha Green's daughter," Daisy snapped. “If you touch me, my father will—"
“Your father?" the first man laughed. “Your father will thank us."
The words hit harder than any punch. Thank them. The thought was so cruel it felt true.
“What did you say?" she demanded.
No one answered.
Rough cloth dropped over her head. Her arms were yanked back. Rope bit into her wrists. She tried to reach her wolf, but fear made her hands shake and her mind scatter.
“Move," someone ordered.
They shoved her forward. A door creaked. The air smelled of oil and old wood.
Her knees hit concrete.
“Take it off," a voice said.
The hood was yanked away.
They were in a warehouse. Chains hung from a rusted beam. Six men in black surrounded her.
“If you hurt me, Thunder Storm will make you pay," Daisy said.
“The Thunder Storm prince?" the nearest man repeated. He crouched, a thin scar clear on his jaw. “You mean Charles?"
Another snorted. “You won't be his Luna after tonight."
“What do you mean?" she asked.
“Our employer is generous," the scarred man said. “They only want one thing: you not marrying Charles."
So this wasn't random. Someone had paid for her to disappear from Charles's side before she even reached it.
Her mind flashed to Amanda's careful smile, Rosalie's soft voice.
“Who sent you?" Daisy asked.
He smiled. “You're smart. Guess."
“I'm not afraid of you," she said. “Untie me and I might—"
A fist slammed into her ribs.
Pain exploded. Her breath vanished. She folded, but the rope held her up.
Another blow hit her shoulder. Then her stomach.
“Stop," she gasped. “Please—"
No one stopped.
Punches fell on her arms, her back, her face. Blood filled her mouth.
“Thought Alpha's girl would be stronger."
“Don't hit her too much in the face. They still need to know who she is."
Laughter.
“Look at her now," someone jeered, grabbing her jaw. “Not so noble."
Fingers slid along her throat, over her collarbone, tugging at her torn dress.
Cold spread through Daisy.
“No," she whispered.
They laughed.
“Relax," a man murmured. “When we're done, no Alpha will want you. Not Charles, not anyone. You'll be free."
Rage burned up, hot and sharp, cutting through some of the fear. Free. They thought breaking her would set her free.
“No," Daisy said, louder. “That is not what I want."
She tried to kick. A boot smashed into her shin. Pain shot through her leg.
Her wolf slammed against the inside of her skin.
Let me out.
Her vision sharpened. Crates, chains, boots, hands—all too clear. The men's voices faded under the pounding in her ears.
Let me out.
“Hold her," someone said. “We're not done."
Hands pressed on her shoulders. Fingers moved lower.
Something inside her snapped.
Heat flooded her muscles. Bones ached, then shifted. The rope cut deeper, then gave way.
“What—"
Daisy's scream turned into a snarl. Her body twisted. Her hands became paws. Her dress tore.
In a heartbeat, a dark wolf stood where the girl had been. Her eyes glowed gold.
“s**t!" someone shouted. “She shifted!"
“Alpha blood," another cursed. “You said she was weak!"
The wolf bared her teeth and leapt.
She slammed into the nearest man. He went down. Her jaws closed on his arm. Blood filled her mouth. He screamed.
A metal bar hit her side. Pain flared, but she only snarled louder. She turned, teeth ripping into another man's leg. He stumbled back, cursing.
“Use the darts!" someone yelled.
Even in the red haze, the word cut through.
Darts. Cages.
Run, a clear voice said.
Daisy lunged at the scarred man. He jumped aside, crashing into a stack of crates. Wood fell with a crash.
Daisy spun toward the door. Two men moved to block it. She charged. One froze; she hit him and sent him flying. The other jumped away.
“Stop her!" someone shouted.
She burst through the door and into the night.
Cold air rushed over her fur. Her paws hammered the ground. Pain burned in her ribs and leg, but she did not slow.
Instinct pulled her toward home.
When the smell of Green Forest Pack grew strong, she turned into the trees and forced herself to change back. The shift was slower. Her body shook.
Paws became hands. Skin burned in the cold.
Her torn dress lay in the dirt. She dragged it over her body and held it closed. Bruises darkened her arms. Blood streaked her legs. Her hair hung in wild knots.
Still, she walked.
By the time she reached the pack house, the sky was black. Light streamed from the windows; music and voices spilled into the yard.
Two guards at the main doors stared at her.
“Miss Daisy—" one blurted, stepping in front of her. “You can't go in like that, the guests—"
Daisy lifted her head and met his eyes.
Her wolf, still raw from the fight, rose behind her gaze. The air seemed to tighten. For a heartbeat the guard's own wolf felt it—Alpha blood, wounded and furious. His throat bobbed; his gaze dropped at once.
He stumbled aside. The other guard followed, shoulders lowering.
“Y‑yes, miss," the first muttered.
Daisy brushed past them. Each step up the stone stairs sent pain through her body. Her bare feet slipped once; she caught the rail and forced herself onward.
From inside the ballroom came a wave of laughter and the sound of Rosalie's name.
Daisy set her jaw and pushed the doors open.
Light and sound crashed over her.
The ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers.
At the center, beneath the largest one, Rosalie stood with Charles.
Rosalie's pink gown sparkled as she leaned toward him, arms looped around his neck. Charles, in a dark suit, looked down at her with soft golden eyes, his hand resting easily at her waist. Their faces were close, breath mingling, eyes locked as if the rest of the room had faded away.
Near the head table, Amanda watched them, a pleased little smile on her face, pride bright in her eyes—her daughter beside Thunder Storm's heir, exactly the picture she had wanted.
Heat slammed through Daisy. Blood rushed to her head, roaring in her ears. While she had been on a warehouse floor choking on dust and her own blood, they had been here urging the two of them closer, cheering as if she had already vanished.
She didn't think. Her body simply moved, driven by that hot, rising wave of fury.
“Come on!" a guest called. “It's your birthday. Give us a kiss!"
“Kiss! Kiss!" others echoed.
Rosalie ducked her head, then looked up again. “If you don't mind, Charles," she said.
His mouth curved. “If it makes everyone happy," he said.
He began to lower his head.
Daisy's footsteps hit the marble floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The small sound cut through the music.
The guests nearest the door turned. One woman gasped. Her glass slipped and shattered.
More people looked.
In the doorway stood Daisy.
Her hair was tangled. Her dress was ripped at the side and shoulder, barely held together. Dirt and blood streaked her arms and legs. One cheek was swollen. Her lip was split.
Her bare feet were scratched and red.
She stood straight, one hand gripping her torn dress, chin lifted. While she had been bleeding on a warehouse floor, they had been here, laughing and begging for a kiss. The thought burned hotter than her bruises.
The music faltered. Laughter died.
“What happened to her?"
“On her own birthday…"
Whispers spread through the hall.
Rosalie froze in Charles's arms.
Charles's hand tightened on Rosalie's waist. Slowly, he turned toward the door.
His golden eyes met Daisy's.
For a heartbeat, everything else faded. There was only the mate bond, thin and trembling between them. Pain flickered in his gaze, then confusion, then something like shame.
Daisy's whole body ached, but she locked her knees.
If they wanted to stare, she thought, they could watch her standing.
She would not bow her head.
- Writer
