Chapter 4 – The Wolf They Should Fear
1262 Words
Aveline's POV
The first thing I remember is the rain.
Cold. Relentless. It soaked through my dress, through my skin, until I couldn't tell where I ended and the storm began.
I ran.
Through twisted forest paths, past borders marked with blood and threat, through distant howls that didn’t welcome me. I ran until my body collapsed.
I fell in the mud, gasping.
Just a girl in ruins.
Sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe.
No one came for me.
Not that night.
Not ever again.
The days blurred into one another. I survived on scraps, found shelter in broken places. I shed my name like a dead skin.
I stopped being Aveline the omega bride.
I became someone else.
Forgotten.
But not broken.
Not yet.
That came later.
A rogue pack cornered me near the riverbend. I was weak. Starved. A shell. My wolf had vanished into silence years ago—buried by childhood trauma, smothered by fear.
They thought I’d be easy prey.
They were wrong.
Something woke up.
Something older than pain.
Older than fear.
My wolf didn’t rise.
She erupted—a surge of silver flame and wild fury. My body shifted, not with pain, but with purpose. I tore through them like vengeance made flesh.
And when the storm ended, I stood in the silence—blood steaming on the leaves, heart pounding, breath sharp.
Not broken.
Reborn.
It's then that she appreciates.
Lys.
An exiled Luna. An outcast. A legend.
She looked at me once and said,
“You’re not just an omega. You’re Luna-born. And they tried to bury you before you bloomed.”
She taught me everything.
To fight with fang and fire.
To shift with strength, not suffering.
To own my birthright.
I trained under moonlight.
Studied by firelight.
Shattered every chain the world had placed on me.
And I swore—on blood, on bone, on every scar:
If I ever returned... it wouldn’t be to beg. It would be to rise.
The Summit chamber is cold.
Not in temperature, but in tone.
———
The silence in the chamber is taut as a drawn bow, full of pride and unspoken threats. Alphas line the obsidian table—men cloaked in wealth, power, and the delusion that their control is absolute. They rule their scattered territories like kings, but all of them answer to one.
Damon Vexley.
And now, so do I.
I don’t sit at the end of the table anymore. I’m not a guest. Not a footnote.
I sit right beside Garrick Stormbane.
The message is clear. Calculated. Lethal.
It’s petty, maybe. But I wanted to see his face. To make him look. To make him feel.
When I walked away last night, I left behind more than silence. I left behind a question. One only he can answer.
So I stayed.
Draped in black, I lounge with deliberate grace, my arm resting lightly on the table, my other hand tracing the rim of my goblet. My posture is a crown. My presence, a challenge. I tilt toward Garrick slightly—close enough to draw eyes, especially his.
Garrick doesn’t miss the cue. He leans in, voice low. “You're making quite the impression.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Good. I’m not here to be invisible.”
Then—
The doors swing open.
Damon enters.
The moment his boot hits marble, the room shifts. Subtle. Sharp.
He halts. Just for a second. But I catch it. Everyone does.
His gaze locks with mine, and it’s like a slap of winter wind across burning skin.
I don’t smile. I don’t blink.
But I feel it—that flicker in his chest. That storm trying to stay caged behind his spine.
I’ve already won this round.
“Nice of you to join us, Alpha Vexley,” I murmur across the room. My tone is silk over steel. “I was beginning to think the rumors were true. That you'd grown... hesitant.”
Damon’s jaw tightens. But he steps forward, calm and controlled.
“I had to make sure this wasn’t a circus before I sat down.” His voice is smooth, but I hear the edge—the one he uses when trying not to bare his teeth.
Garrick chuckles, slow and easy. “You’re late, but your timing’s perfect.”
Damon’s eyes flick to him. “Stormbane.”
Then back to me.
“I didn’t expect you to still be here,” he says, flat and direct.
“I figured as much,” I reply. “You never expect much from people once you’re done using them.”
The council shifts, sensing blood in the air. Tension coils like a blade held between teeth.
“I wasn’t done,” Damon says quietly.
I raise a brow. “No? Then you should’ve said something before the public rejection. Before you made me into your scapegoat.”
Damon’s hands clench at his sides. Just once. “We have more pressing matters.”
“Of course we do,” I say, rising slowly. “So let’s focus.”
A map shimmers in the air between us, painted with red dots that scream of violence. Rogue attacks. Territory breaches. Losses we can no longer afford.
Alpha Tarek slams his hand on the table. “We double patrols. Set bait. Burn out the nests.”
“A waste,” Dren snaps. “We fight smart, not blind.”
“Fight?” I cut in, my voice quiet but lethal. “You’re not fighting. You’re scrambling.”
The room stills. Every gaze turns to me.
“They’re not just testing us,” I say, stepping toward the map. “They’re learning us. They know exactly where to strike—and when. If you keep reacting, you’ll die reacting.”
“What do you suggest?” Varyn asks, half-challenging.
“A strike squad,” Garrick offers, clearly playing his role. “Elite. Fast. Lethal. Not just wolves—hunters.”
“And who leads it?” Damon says, finally speaking into the conversation.
I meet his eyes without flinching. “I do.”
His brow twitches, just slightly. “You?”
“Afraid I’ll upstage you?” I ask sweetly. “Again?”
A few Alphas cough into their hands to hide laughter. Garrick just grins.
Damon’s eyes harden. “This isn’t a game, Aveline.”
“No,” I say, stepping closer. “This is war. And I’m done letting overfed egos lose it for us.”
“And your conditions?” Alpha Tarek asks, trying to sound unaffected.
I smile—just barely.
“Damon comes with us. On the first mission.”
Silence detonates across the chamber.
Even Garrick lifts his head, startled.
Damon stares at me. “Is this a trap?”
“No,” I say calmly. “This is a chance. For you to prove you’re more than politics and pride.”
“What are you really trying to do?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.
“See if you still have teeth,” I answer, sharp and sweet. “Or if you’re all bark now.”
Gasps ripple. A few eyes widen. Someone mutters, “Moon preserve us.”
The air between us crackles.
He doesn’t speak.
But I see it in his eyes—rage, disbelief... and beneath all that?
Somethin
g else.
Hurt.
Because he knows I’m not the same girl who once stood trembling in the shadow.
And now, I’ve just forced his hand.
Everyone waits.
For his answer.
Because mine?
Was already made.
- Writer
