Betrayed, Not Broken

Who Are You?

~ Seraphina's POV ~

Pain.

That was the first thing I registered—a dull, throbbing ache radiating through my body, as if I had been shattered and crudely pieced back together. My limbs were heavy, refusing to move, and my mind clawed sluggishly toward consciousness.

How was I still alive?

No, the question should be, why am I still alive?

Have I not suffered enough?

The last thing I remembered was falling—Scarlett’s triumphant smirk as she shoved me over the cliff, the wind tearing at my skin, the rush of impending death. I had braced for the end, for the merciless embrace of the earth below.

Yet, here I was.

Before falling off the cliff, I felt something strange.

My fingers twitched against the damp soil. The scent of pine and rain filled my nose, grounding me. Slowly, painfully, I tried to open my eyes.

The world was blurred with mist, the towering trees swaying under the weight of the wind. My body screamed in protest as I tried to move, muscles torn and bruised from the impact.

I should have been dead. No one could survive a fall like that. No one. It's practically impossible.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as I caught sight of my reflection in a nearby pool of water. Silver. My hair, once a midnight black hair, had transformed into a cascade of gleaming silver strands. My eyes, once green, now glowed with an ethereal amethyst hue.

Is this really my reflection?

Impossible.

A shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold but from the sickening realization that something inside me had changed. Something I couldn’t understand.

A rustling sound.

I tensed, my battered body coiling as best it could into a defensive stance. Through the mist, a child emerged, her small frame trembling.

Wide, frightened eyes locked onto mine before she darted forward, clutching at my tattered cloak. She has an unusual appearance. Chestnut brown hair and amber eyes. Her clothes were tattered and her small hands and legs were wounded.

“They are here. Please… help me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, laced with terror.

I think I heard her voice when I fell down the cliff. The child doesn't look more than three or four years old.

What is a small child like her doing in the woods?

I stiffened. The girl was frail, her tiny hands ice-cold against my skin. Before I could respond, a growl rumbled through the trees.

Rogues.

The child whimpered, pressing herself closer. Shadowy figures lurked between the trees, circling us like vultures.

“Well, well,” one of them sneered, stepping forward. “What do we have here?”

My heart pounded as I forced myself upright despite the searing pain in my limbs. I had no weapons, no strength left—but I wouldn’t let them take the child. I refused to be weak again… I refused to be helpless.

Regis didn't let me learn how to fight as he promised that he would always be there by my side to protect me, but I couldn't allow any of these bastards to hurt the child.

Another rogue chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Thought you could run, little girl? Alaric isn’t here to save you now.”

I stiffened. The name sounds kind of familiar.

They weren’t after me. They were hunting the child, but why?

The first rogue’s gaze raked over me, his expression shifting from amusement to something darker. “And you… You don’t smell like the Silver Moon, but something about you seems familiar.”

They didn’t recognize me. My transformation had hidden my identity. But it wouldn’t matter if they decided I was a threat to them or their plans.

The first rogue lunged. I twisted away, delivering a clumsy but desperate kick to his ribs.

“Argh!” I screamed.

Pain flared in my side, but I ignored it, struggling to block another strike. Blood pounded in my ears as I fought—sloppy, reckless movements fueled by sheer willpower alone.

‘We need to protect the child. I can't help you to transform because of your condition.’ My wolf was doing her best to help me out, but as I am severely wounded, I can't shift into my wolf form.

I was losing. My body was failing me.

This year's birthday… I don't think I will be able to forget it.

A blur of motion. A shift in the air. And then—death.

Not mine. The rogues’.

A figure moved through them like a wraith, swift and merciless. One moment, the rogues had the upper hand—the next, they were falling, their bodies hitting the dirt with sickening thuds.

The last rogue barely had time to scream before his head was ripped from his shoulders.

What just happened?

Silence fell, thick and absolute.

And then, I saw him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Cloaked in the scent of blood and frost. His raven-black hair fell in loose waves over his forehead, piercing amber eyes assessing me with cold calculation. He folded the sleeves of his black shirt while he walked towards me.

The man had the same amber eyes as the child who was clinging to me.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, his gaze flicking over my trembling form. “That was barely a fight.”

What is his problem?

Why is he trying to pick a fight with me?

I bristled, but exhaustion overrode my defiance. My knees buckled, and I forced myself upright. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

His brow arched. “No. You would have died without it. Why did you try to fight them when you don't even know a thing about fighting?”

I hated that he was right.

“I could not simply stand in front of them like a fool, right?” I replied to him.

The child still clung to me, her small hands gripping the fabric of my dress. She turned to the man, eyes glistening. “Uncle Alaric…”

Uncle?

My breath caught. This was Alaric Everhart—Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. A man spoken of in whispers, his name carrying both reverence and fear.

What is he doing here?

I looked around myself.

Don't tell me I ended up in his territory?

His gaze returned to me. “Who are you?”

I hesitated. I had no reason to trust him. No reason to trust anyone after what had been done to me. But the child… she mattered to him. That much was clear. I could still not tell him about my real identity.

I swallowed hard. “Sera.”

Alaric’s stare was unreadable. He didn’t believe me. His gaze searched mine, peeling away every layer of deception.

“You can barely stand,” he observed. "And yet, you fought. Why?”

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Because I had no other choice.”

Something flickered in his expression. Not sympathy—Alaric Everhart didn’t seem the type—but recognition.

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over mine. “Why were the rogues after you?”

I lifted my chin. “They weren’t. They were after her.”

His gaze flickered towards the child, then back to me. “And you chose to fight? You could have simply abandoned the child to protect yourself. I believe survival is the basic instinct for everyone.”

I clenched my fists. “Would you have preferred I left her to die?”

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, a low chuckle rumbled from his chest—dark, amused. “Now, this was something unexpected.”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and within seconds, wolves emerged from the trees—Alaric’s pack. He turned away, dismissing me entirely. "Take Aris.”

The child whimpered, pressing herself against me. Instinctively, I held her closer.

Alaric’s voice was calm, yet absolute. “Take the girl as well.”

Aris squealed in excitement as Alaric’s pack members pulled her from my grasp.

I stiffened. “I never agreed to go with you.”

What exactly is going on inside his head?

Why does he want to take a stranger into his packhouse?

As an alpha, that should be the last thing he should do.

His amber eyes locked onto mine, unwavering. “You’re injured. You have nowhere to go. And I don’t allow strangers to wander my land.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what if I refuse?”

Alaric stood just an inch away. As I refused to meet his gaze, he gently grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. I tried to move away his hand, but I failed. He then moved his face closer to mine.

His smirk was slow, predatory. “Go ahead. Try.”

It's like he was enjoying himself.

Lyra's warning echoed in my mind. ‘Don’t provoke him. He’s dangerous.’

I swallowed hard.

Tension crackled between us—a silent challenge. But I wasn’t foolish. I was in no condition to fight him. And even if I was… I wasn’t sure I could win against someone like him.

I couldn't exactly tell him who I was—that I was Alpha Logan’s daughter. A traitor’s daughter. No pack would risk taking me in. It would only put them in danger.

And Alaric… I had no reason to trust him.

I exhaled slowly, then nodded.

Alaric said nothing. He simply turned and walked ahead, expecting me to follow.

I squared my shoulders and did.

Yet, as I moved forward, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just stepped into something far bigger than I had ever imagined.

And worse—I wasn’t sure if I would ever make it out.