Claimed by Wolf King

Ava had learned before she was old enough to understand cruelty that silence was safer than defending herself. She knelt on the cold kitchen floor before sunrise, scrubbing between the white tiles with a stiff brush while the rest of the Marlow household slept upstairs. The room already smelled of fresh bread and coffee. Breakfast waited beneath covered dishes on the dining table, the laundry had been folded, and the silverware had been polished until Ava could see her tired reflection in every spoon. Still, she knew Vivian would find something wrong. A bruise circled Ava’s wrist beneath the sleeve of her faded sweater. Another darkened her ribs where Charles Marlow had struck her the previous evening for returning late from her shift at the pack clinic. She had spent the afternoon helping an elderly wolf whose fever refused to break, but explanations had never mattered inside this house. To Charles, a delay was disobedience, and disobedience required punishment. “Ava!” Vivian’s voice carried down the hallway, sharp enough to make Ava’s hand tighten around the brush. “I’m in the kitchen,” she answered. Vivian entered wearing a pale silk robe, her dark hair already arranged neatly around her face. She looked across the spotless room with the disappointment of someone searching for a reason to be angry. “Why isn’t breakfast being served?” Ava glanced at the clock. “It’s ready. I wanted to finish the floor before everyone came downstairs.” “That wasn’t what I asked.” Vivian stopped beside the bucket and stared down at her. “Must every simple instruction become a struggle with you?” “No, Mrs. Marlow.” Vivian insisted on the formal name whenever they were alone. In public, she spoke warmly about the orphan she and her husband had rescued from the pack boundary twenty-two years earlier. She enjoyed being praised for her generosity. No one outside the house knew that Ava slept in the attic, survived on leftovers, and worked without pay at the clinic because Charles collected her wages directly from the pack. “Get up,” Vivian ordered. “You’ll need to repair the gray dress before tonight.” Ava rose carefully, trying not to show the pain in her side. “What is happening tonight?” Vivian’s expression sharpened. “The Wolf King is visiting Ashbourne.” The brush slipped from Ava’s wet fingers and struck the tile. Every wolf in the western territories knew Ethan Knight’s name. He was the youngest ruler ever chosen by the High Council and the Alpha powerful enough to force rival packs into peace after decades of bloodshed. Some described him as honorable. Others claimed he was merciless. The only thing every story agreed upon was that no one challenged the Wolf King twice. Ava bent quickly to retrieve the brush. “Why is he coming here?” “That is not your concern.” Vivian’s mouth curved with satisfaction. “Alpha Carter is hosting a gathering at his estate, and every unmated woman of suitable age has been ordered to attend.” Ava looked up before she could stop herself. “That cannot include me.” The slap turned her face aside. Heat spread across her cheek while the kitchen fell silent. Vivian had not struck hard enough to leave a lasting mark, but that had never been the purpose. She preferred reminders that could be hidden beneath powder and long sleeves. “You will attend because the Alpha commanded it,” Vivian said. “You will stand behind Liana, keep your head lowered, and make certain no one mistakes you for her equal.” Ava touched her burning cheek. “Yes, Mrs. Marlow.” Liana was everything the pack respected. Beautiful, wealthy, and blessed with a strong silver wolf, she had shifted before her seventeenth birthday while the entire territory celebrated beneath the full moon. Ava had entered the same ceremonial clearing a year later and waited until dawn for a wolf that never came. Nothing had answered her. No voice had entered her mind. No bones had changed. No animal had risen beneath her skin. By morning, the whispers had begun. By the end of the week, everyone in Ashbourne called her wolfless. Vivian stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Cover your arms tonight. I will not tolerate questions about those bruises.” Before Ava could answer, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Charles entered the dining room with a newspaper tucked beneath one arm, followed by Liana, who was already dressed in an expensive cream sweater and fitted trousers. Ava carried breakfast to the table and placed the dishes before them. There was no fourth setting. Liana looked briefly at Ava’s clothes and laughed. “Please tell me you aren’t planning to appear before the Wolf King dressed like that.” “I’m wearing the gray dress,” Ava replied as she poured Charles’s coffee. “The one Aunt Celeste died in?” Liana asked, wrinkling her nose. “How appropriate.” Charles lowered the newspaper. “It belonged to my sister before her illness. There is nothing wrong with it.” “The sleeve is torn,” Ava said quietly. “I’ll need time to repair it before—” His hand closed around her forearm before she finished. Coffee spilled across the table as he twisted her arm, pressing his thumb into yesterday’s bruise. “When I tell you to wear something, you do not complain about it.” Ava struggled to keep her voice steady. “I wasn’t complaining. I only meant that it must be sewn.” “Then sew it.” Vivian dabbed at the spilled coffee with her napkin, more irritated by the stain than by her husband’s grip. Liana watched with a faint smile, making no attempt to hide her enjoyment. Charles released Ava with enough force to send her against the sideboard. A porcelain plate slipped from her hand and shattered across the floor. His expression turned colder. “Look at what you’ve done.” “I’m sorry.” “You always are.” He leaned back in his chair. “We fed you, housed you, and gave you our name, yet you still find new ways to embarrass us. You should be grateful anyone accepted a child abandoned by her own parents.” Ava lowered her eyes until the burning behind them faded. She had no memory of her real family, only fragments from dreams that Vivian called foolish inventions: a woman singing beside dark water, silver hair moving in the wind, and a warm hand pressing a pendant against Ava’s chest. “I’ll clean it,” she whispered. She knelt beside the broken porcelain and gathered the pieces. One sharp edge sliced across her palm. Blood appeared immediately, bright against her pale skin, but before she could reach for a cloth, the cut began to close. Ava froze. The skin drew together beneath a faint silver shimmer, leaving only a thin pink line where the wound had been. Her breath caught as she curled her fingers into a fist and glanced toward the table. No one had noticed. Vivian was criticizing the coffee, Charles had returned to his newspaper, and Liana was typing on her phone. Ava hid the broken piece inside her apron and finished cleaning before retreating to the attic. Her room occupied the smallest corner beneath the roof. Winter wind entered through gaps around the single window, and the ceiling sloped so low near the bed that she had learned to duck when standing. A narrow wardrobe held three dresses, two sweaters, and the clinic uniform she had purchased secondhand. The gray dress hung at the back, covered in dust. Ava spread it across the bed and examined the torn sleeve. The fabric was old but still elegant, and with careful stitching it might survive the evening. She had barely threaded the needle when the door opened without warning. Liana entered and looked around with open disgust. “I don’t understand how you sleep in here.” Ava kept sewing. “What do you want?” Liana’s eyebrows rose. “Careful. Spending all day with sick wolves seems to have made you forget your place.” “My place is apparently repairing a dead woman’s dress so your family can display me tonight.” For a moment, surprise crossed Liana’s face. Then her gaze settled on the silver pendant resting beside Ava’s bed. It was the only object found with Ava as an infant. The small crescent-shaped stone had never tarnished, and no jeweler had been able to identify the metal surrounding it. Liana picked it up. “You still keep this ugly thing?” Ava set the dress aside. “Give it back.” “Why? Do you think your real mother will return one day and recognize you by it?” “They are dead.” “Or they saw what you were and abandoned you.” Liana held the pendant beyond Ava’s reach. “Even your own parents didn’t want a defective child.” Ava stood. “Give it back, Liana.” “Make me.” Years of humiliation gathered inside Ava at once: the laughter after her failed shift, Charles’s fists, Vivian’s contempt, and every night she had cried quietly so no one would hear. She reached for the pendant and caught Liana’s wrist. Cold flooded the room. Silver light raced beneath Ava’s skin and spilled across Liana’s arm. Her sister screamed as an invisible force threw her backward into the wardrobe, tearing one door from its hinges. The pendant struck the floor while every object in the room trembled. Ava stared at her glowing hand, unable to breathe. The light disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. Liana pushed herself upright, her face drained of color. “What did you do to me?” “I don’t know.” “You’re lying.” Fear sharpened Liana’s voice. “Wolfless girls cannot do that.” A deep howl rose beyond the window before Ava could answer. Another followed, then dozens more, sweeping across Ashbourne until the entire pack had joined the call. The sound carried neither celebration nor alarm. It was an instinctive response to an authority powerful enough to command recognition without speaking. Liana staggered toward the window. “He’s here.” A convoy of black vehicles moved along the road below, surrounded by the Alpha’s guards. Pack members emerged from their homes and bowed their heads as the first SUV approached the estate. The pressure beneath Ava’s ribs returned with sudden force. She gripped the windowsill while heat spread through her veins, stronger than anything she had felt before. Inside the lead vehicle, something answered her. Not a voice. A presence. Ancient, powerful, and unmistakably alive. For the first time in twenty-two years, Ava heard a wolf growl inside her mind.