Chapter 1 - Morgan Amoret
Most humans like to believe they understand their own world.
Adorable, really.
They tell stories about vampires, the pale, brooding creatures who stalk the night and sparkle if you throw them at the sun. Cute. Completely wrong. The myths were never about vampires at all. They were about a far bigger beast, wolves. Well, werewolves to be precise, though humans managed to butcher the details beyond recognition. They don’t burn in the daylight, they don’t sleep in coffins, and they definitely don’t sparkle. They’re just faster, stronger, sharper, and infinitely better looking. Obviously.
There are four kinds of wolves living quietly among humans, blending in so well that mortals never notice. One kind, though — the strongest — supposedly died out centuries ago.
Supposedly.
Morgan Amoret is the last white wolf. Over four hundred years old, permanently twenty five, and immortal. She lost her parents, sisters, her home, everything. Loss shapes you. Hardens you. Turns you into the kind of woman who doesn’t flinch at danger.
And yes, before you ask, Morgan isn’t just any white wolf. She has the royal bloodline, the kind that once ruled all wolves: black, grey, brown, and white. Royals were born with the potential for unique abilities, gifts passed down through generations. Only a royal could ever wield one.
Morgan
Cold. That was the first thing I felt.
I woke with Sophie curled against me, small and warm despite the frost clinging to my clothes. My niece who is five years old, stubborn as a mule, and the only piece of my sister Ophelia I have left. Ophelia had loved a human, married him, and had Sophie. She’d given up immortality for him. For love. And then she was murdered.
When our lands were attacked, my grandmother and my sister Lilly shoved Sophie and me into an enchanted freezer — yes, an actual freezer — the kind that only fits two people and apparently doubles as a time capsule.
All I remember was a cold rush and then total darkness.
Now the ice had melted, and I had no idea what year it was. But I knew exactly what I wanted.
Revenge.
“Hey, Soph. Wake up,” I murmured, brushing her hair back.
She groaned, blinked up at me, then suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Aunty,” she squealed.
My chest tightened — in the good way, not the cardiac arrest way.
“Come on,” I said, standing and lifting her onto my hip. “Let’s go and find out where we are.”
And just like that, me the last white wolf and her niece stepped out into a world that thought they were extinct.
As we started walking the air smelled different. Cleaner. Sharper. This new world felt… wrong. Too quiet. Too empty
Sophie tugged on my sleeve. “Aunty, are we… in the future?
I sighed. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know if we’re still on the same continent.”
We continued to walk through the trees, Sophie perched on my hip, her small fingers tangled in my hair. Every sound felt too loud. Every scent too new. My wolf senses were screaming at me — danger, change, loss.
