CHAPTER ONE
1051 Words
TWO YEARS LATER
The morning fog clung to the trees like ghosts that never left.
Amara stood at the edge of the training field, watching the others spar. The sharp clang of claws and grunts of effort filled the air. Dust rose beneath their feet, catching in the low sunlight. Everything looked the same. But she wasn’t.
Not anymore.
“Are you joining or just observing?” someone asked from behind.
She turned slowly. Beta Caleb-stacy's brother. Young, cocky, and always too curious for his own good. His father was Beta before him. He offered her a slight smile, one she didn’t return.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re never in the mood.”
She walked away without answering, hugging her arms around herself. Her bones ached. Not from physical pain, but the kind that clings deeper—grief, betrayal, silence. Two years hadn’t dulled it. Time had just taught her how to carry it better.
Her wolf hadn’t spoken once in those two years.
Sometimes, she wondered if it died with her parents.
The pack she now lived with—Silver Mist—had taken her and her grandmother in after the attack. No one ever said it out loud, but she could feel it: they pitied her. The orphaned girl with a broken bond and a silent wolf. She was the strange one. The quiet shadow in every room.
But the whispers had gotten louder since last week. Since her birthday.
Since he rejected her.
Amara hadn’t expected to find her mate that day. She hadn’t even felt the shift that most wolves felt on their eighteenth. But when she walked into the Hall that evening for the celebration feast, the air had changed.
He was there.
Lucien.
Tall, broad-shouldered, eyes like steel—cold and unreadable. He’d stiffened when he saw her. Their eyes locked, and for the briefest second, she thought she felt it. That… pull. That impossible pull everyone talked about.
But he looked at her like she was dirt under his boot.
A moment later, he turned away. Right into the arms of Stacy.
And then… he said it. In front of everyone.
“I reject you, Amara.”
No warning. No explanation. Just those three words that shattered something deep inside her.
Stacy had looked smug. Lucien had looked empty. And Amara? She walked out without saying a word, holding herself together until she made it home. She didn’t cry. She just stared at the wall for hours, trying to understand how fate could be so cruel twice.
She could still hear the way people whispered about it.
“She’s broken anyway. Why would a future Alpha want her?”
“Maybe her wolf is gone.”
“Maybe it was a mistake.”
It wasn’t a mistake. She had felt it. That strange tug in her chest when their eyes met. But maybe he hadn’t. Or maybe he had… and just didn’t care.
She crossed the field now, heading toward the woods. She needed space. Silence. A place where no one looked at her like she was a walking curse.
The deeper she walked into the forest, the quieter it became. The trees here were tall and ancient, their roots curling out of the ground like veins. Light filtered through the branches, casting gold across the moss.
She found her usual spot beneath the old oak and sat, pulling her knees to her chest.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered to herself.
There was no answer. There never was.
“Why me?”
Still, nothing.
A twig snapped nearby.
Her body tensed.
She stood quickly, scanning the trees. Another snap. Soft footsteps. Not animal. Not wild. She inhaled, hoping to catch a scent—but all she got was damp earth and old pine.
“Who’s there?” she called, voice stronger than she felt.
No reply.
Then a voice—low, unfamiliar, and far too calm—came from just behind the tree line.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Amara spun, eyes narrowing. A man stepped out from the shadows. Not someone from her pack. She would’ve remembered a face like his. He looked young, but something about him felt older. His black hair was tousled, and his clothes were travel-worn, like he’d been walking for miles.
His eyes… were gold. Unnaturally so.
“I don’t take orders from strangers,” she said, backing a step away.
“I’m not a stranger,” he replied, tilting his head. “Not to you.”
She froze. “What?”
He took a step closer. She didn’t sense danger—but that only made her more uneasy.
“I’ve been waiting to meet you, Amara.”
Her name in his mouth sent chills down her spine.
“Who are you?”
He smiled faintly. “Let’s just say… I know what you really are. And what you’re not supposed to be doing.”
Her breath caught. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly reached into his coat and pulled something out—a piece of folded paper, sealed with wax. Her mother’s seal.
Her knees nearly buckled. “Where did you get that?”
He stepped forward and gently pressed it into her hand.
“Your mother left it for you. She knew this day would come.”
She stared at it, heart thundering in her chest.
“But… she died. I saw—she—how—”
“Your blood is not ordinary, Amara. You are the White Wolf, and when the time comes, the world will remember your name.”
What does that even mean?
The man stepped back into the trees, vanishing like mist before she could even finish her sentence.
“Wait!” she shouted, chasing after him.
But there was no trace. Nothing. Just trees and silence.
She looked down at the letter, hands trembling. The seal was unbroken. Her mother’s mark was there—clear, strong, exactly as it had always been.
Amara stared into the woods, then back at the letter. Her breath came fast.
Why now? Why him? And what could her mother have known… that still waited for her after death?
She didn’t know yet. But she was about to find out.
- Writer
