Worse Than Death
1985 Words
Iva woke with a scream.
Her body jolted upright, her breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps as her heart hammered violently against her ribs. For a second—just one—she didn’t know where she was. Moonlight spilled across unfamiliar shapes, shadows clinging to the walls like watching eyes, and confusion wrapped around her mind in a thick haze.
Then reality came crashing back.
The shifting ground.
The whispers.
The laughter.
Her father’s face twisted in shame.
Nick’s voice, mocking and cruel.
Avalon’s small, trembling presence.
And the silver eyes of the Moon Goddess.
Iva squeezed her eyes shut, groaning softly as a dull ache bloomed behind her temples. Her head throbbed painfully, each heartbeat sending a pulse of pressure through her skull.
“It was just a dream…” she whispered, though the words didn’t quite convince her.
The dream felt too real.
The goddess’s voice still echoed in her ears.
Worthy of my gifts.
She shook her head slowly, confusion swirling. “Get a grip, Iva,” she murmured to herself. “You cried yourself to sleep. That’s all.”
Her mouth felt dry, her throat scratchy, and her stomach twisted unpleasantly. She swallowed, wincing. Water. I need water. And something for this headache.
She reached blindly for her bedside table, squinting at the watch resting there.
2:57 a.m.
“Perfect,” she muttered hoarsely.
Every muscle in her body felt heavy, sore, as if the shift had wrung her out completely. Her bones ached, her joints stiff, and when she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she had to pause to steady herself.
Slowly, carefully, she stood.
The room tilted slightly, forcing her to grip the bed until the dizziness passed. Once it did, she dragged herself toward the door, each step deliberate, her bare feet silent against the floor.
Avalon stirred faintly beneath her skin, a soft ripple of awareness.
“Are you alright?” the wolf asked gently.
“Later,” Iva whispered inside her mind. “Please… later. Just let me deal with this headache first, or my head would explode.”
Avalon retreated immediately, sensing the pain pounding through her head.
Iva opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She didn’t bother turning on the lights. There was no need anymore.
Her vision shifted instinctively, sharpening, the darkness peeling away like a thin veil. She could see every detail—the grain of the wood, the faint cracks in the walls, the dust drifting lazily through the air.
Wolf vision, she realized distantly.
But the thought brought no joy tonight.
She moved slowly down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The house was quiet, wrapped in deep sleep, and for a moment she hoped she would make it to the kitchen unnoticed, take her pills, drink her water, and retreat back into her room where she could nurse her pain.
Then she heard voices.
Muffled. Low. Coming from her father’s office.
Iva froze mid-step.
Her stomach clenched instantly, dread rushing through her veins like ice water. The last thing she wanted—needed—was to face her father tonight… again. Not after everything. Not after the look in his eyes.
She considered turning back.
But then she heard it.
A sob.
Soft. Broken.
Her breath caught painfully.
“That’s…” she whispered soundlessly.
Her mother.
Iva’s heart began to pound again, harder this time, and before she could stop herself, her feet carried her closer, drawn by a mixture of fear and instinct. She stayed in the shadows, pressing herself against the wall, every sense straining as the voices became clearer.
“Rhys,” her mother pleaded, her voice trembling. “She is our daughter. Our only child. Please… you can’t be so cruel.”
Iva’s hands flew to her mouth. “They are talking about me!”
Rana’s words came out in broken fragments, soaked in pain. “It’s not her choice—the wolf she received. Or that she was born a girl. Please… try to understand.”
There was a pause.
Then her father spoke.
Cold. Flat. Unyielding.
“Rana,” Rhys said sharply, “stop this nonsense.”
Iva squeezed her eyes shut.
“I accepted her every day,” he continued, his voice hardening, “in the hope that despite being a girl, she would be useful to the pack. That she could bring us a strong alliance.”
Iva felt as if something sharp had pierced her chest.
“But after tonight,” he went on, “forget it.”
Her heart shattered a little more.
“Who would accept a chosen mate like her?” Rhys scoffed. “The runt of the pack? Except maybe an omega. Or someone from a lowly pack desperate enough to be related to a Gamma family. You know the situation of the pack that is declining every day and we needed badly a strong alliance. This is the reason why I rejected the idea of her going to any Academy. She could study later, but the priority was to find her an influential mate, but after tonight… forget about it.”
Rana broke down then, her sobs loud and raw, and Iva’s vision blurred as tears spilled silently down her cheeks.
“Please,” her mother cried. “She’s just a child. She needs us, especially now.”
But Rhys didn’t soften.
“She is a disgrace,” he said coldly. “And I will not pretend otherwise. I have no idea what we did wrong for the Goddess to punish us like this. Even the Alpha was shocked… and, of course, he is livid in fury… as now we need to reconsider the list of potential mates.”
Iva sagged against the wall, her legs trembling violently as if they might give out. Her chest burned, the pain so intense it felt physical, like a hot iron pressed directly against her heart.
Despite everything… she thought brokenly, we were a family.
Aren’t you supposed to love your pups no matter what?
Her breath hitched, silent sobs shaking her shoulders as she struggled to remain unseen. The words carved deep wounds into her soul, wounds that might never heal.
Inside her, Avalon whimpered softly, the sound filled with sorrow and confusion.
“They don’t want us,” the wolf whispered, her voice small and aching. “We are alone.”
Iva pressed her forehead against the wall, tears streaming freely now.
Wolves were social creatures.
They needed a pack.
They craved belonging.
They survived through connection.
And yet, from the moment they had shifted, rejection had followed them relentlessly—mocked by the pack, dismissed by leadership, and now… rejected in their own home.
“I’m sorry,” Iva whispered to Avalon through her tears. “I’m so sorry.”
--
Iva had already begun to turn away when her mother’s voice changed.
It was no longer pleading.
It was sharp. Furious. Desperate.
“And now what happens to her?” Rana demanded. “What is the Alpha’s decision, Rhys?”
Iva froze.
Her fingers tightened against the banister as she leaned slightly back toward the darkness, every instinct screaming at her to run, yet her body refusing to move. Something in her mother’s tone told her this was not a question she wanted answered.
There was a pause.
Then her father spoke.
“The only option left,” Rhys said evenly, “is to secure an alliance in the North.”
The words didn’t make sense at first.
Iva frowned faintly, her brow creasing in confusion.
The North? Her mind scrambled, trying to recall what she knew—sparse lands, harsh climates, no real political structure.
Rana scoffed sharply. “The North?” she repeated. “There are no ranked established packs there.”
Another pause.
Then her father added, calmly, “Except the wild packs.”
The world tilted.
Iva’s breath left her lungs in a silent rush, her heart slamming violently against her ribs.
“No,” Rana said instantly. “You can’t be serious.”
“They are powerful,” Rhys replied. “Unrefined, yes. But powerful.”
Rana’s voice rose, disbelief turning into horror. “Those places are barbaric. Archaic. Are you insane?!”
Iva’s legs began to tremble.
The wild packs.
Every pup knew the stories. Wolves who rejected modern pack laws. Who lived by dominance and brute strength alone. Who valued strength above all else and crushed weakness without mercy.
“They are killing machines,” Rana cried. “Cruel. Savage.”
Her voice broke as she continued, “How can you even consider giving your daughter to someone like that?”
Iva pressed a shaking hand to her chest.
“There,” Rana went on, her words tumbling out in panic, “women have no voice. They are used for breeding, labor, survival. Some packs don’t even have running water or electricity, Rhys! They live like animals!”
Her mother’s voice rose to a scream. “Are you mad?!”
Iva felt bile rise in her throat.
She couldn’t breathe.
Rhys exhaled slowly. “Yet they are strong,” he said again. “And strength is what our pack needs, especially as the new Messenger is not yet known. And once it will appear… everyone will try to secure its presence.”
“No,” Rana sobbed. “No, no, no—”
“Enough Rana! This is not anymore up for discussion. The Alpha agrees,” Rhys interrupted. “This is the only alliance that might accept her, considering her lacking.”
Accept her.
As if I am an object. A burden. Something to be handed over.
Rana’s voice shattered completely. “Then mate her with an omega!” she screamed. “Let her have a decent life. I am begging you. Please. Don’t send our daughter there.”
Iva clutched the wall beside her as if the house itself might collapse.
Silence stretched.
Then Rhys spoke again.
“It has already been decided,” he said coldly. “The Alpha will contact them today. If they accept her, they will arrive in approximately two weeks to finalize the agreement and have her mating ceremony.”
Two weeks.
Iva’s knees nearly buckled.
Rana let out a broken, anguished cry. “I have never been more disappointed in you,” she said through sobs. “I can’t even look at you.”
The sound of a chair scraping echoed faintly, followed by footsteps, but Iva didn’t stay to hear more.
She couldn’t.
Her entire being trembled violently as she turned away, moving on pure instinct, her feet carrying her back up the stairs as silently as a ghost. Her vision blurred, her heart racing uncontrollably, each breath shallow and panicked.
No. No. No.
Her room greeted her like a tomb.
She barely made it inside before her body gave out completely. Iva collapsed against the door, sliding down until she was curled on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if that could keep her from shattering.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her chest constricted painfully, her breaths coming too fast, too shallow.
“I can’t—” she gasped. “I can’t—”
The walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick and suffocating. Her vision narrowed as spots danced before her eyes, terror clawing through her veins.
Avalon surged forward inside her, frantic.
“Iva!” the wolf cried. “Breathe with me. Please.”
But the words echoed uselessly as the dread wrapped around her spine like ice.
The fate they were planning for her was worse than death.
To be handed to … monsters.
To lose her voice.
Her freedom.
Her humanity.
She pressed her forehead to the floor, sobbing brokenly as her entire world crumbled around her.
“I won’t survive it,” she whispered hoarsely. “I won’t.”
- Writer
