Serenya's POV
The dream catches me before I realize I’ve fallen into it.
Everything feels sharp—the wind, the smell, the ache in my stomach that gnaws like it never left.
I know this place.
The shack behind the fish market, the one that stank of salt and rot. I’m small again—twelve, maybe thirteen—and my aunt’s gone. Buried under the hill where the weeds grow taller than the crosses. There’s no one left to keep me safe.
The walls creak as I curl beneath a pile of rice husks. They scratch my arms, my face, my throat when I breathe. I keep still, listening for boots outside, for the enforcers who used to ask about “the Alpha’s lost child.” I’ve learned to play dead. Even my wolf learned it.
My stomach growls, so loud it feels like betrayal. I press a fist against it, but the hunger
