PROLOGUE
1238 Words
Standing outside the large packhouse, my stomach twisted with anxiety when I spotted the sleek Mercedes SUV parked out front. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another couple of days. It had been really peaceful without him here—almost bearable. But now, I didn’t want to go inside.
I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, but I had hoped for a little more time to brace myself for his inevitable return. The weight of that thought settled heavily in my stomach, twisting with anxiety and a surge of unresolved emotions. As I grappled with my racing thoughts, the front door creaked open. A prominent figure emerged onto the porch, casting a long shadow in the fading afternoon light.
“Arabella, your stepfather is waiting for you,” announced Milo, his Beta. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying an undertone of concern. His posture was tense, and his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap, reflecting the unsettled atmosphere that hung thick in the air.
I found the courage to walk toward the house and up the stairs to the porch. Milo stepped aside to let me enter, and I placed my school bag on the foyer table before heading to Vincent’s office.
The office had large, menacing doors—stained wood, imposing in size, adorned with carvings of wolves tearing apart other wolves. These doors probably depicted the not-so-distant werewolf wars.
Milo walked beside me and pushed the door open, allowing me to enter. There he was—a large man with a gray beard and thinning hair, sitting behind an intimidatingly large desk.
“Sit down,” Vincent ordered.
I walked across the room and sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.
“What have you heard about Alpha Landon?” he asked.
“From the Moonstone Pack?”
“That’s right.”
“Only what I’ve heard. His parents died in the war. He had to take over at a pretty young age because of that, and he’s the biggest womanizing prick in the world. There are rumors that he has kids to dozens of hookers at several different brothels.” I said.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve heard of him, because you’re marrying him,” Vincent announced, leaning back in his chair.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re getting married to him. We’re forming an alliance to strengthen both packs after the war, and we’re sealing that alliance with this marriage. We’re leaving tomorrow so you better not embarrass me,” he threatened.
“Why me?”
“Because you are my daughter, and that’s the sacrifice you need to make.”
“Stepdaughter,” I repeated.
“And if your mother were here, she’d be telling you to do as you’re told.”
“Yeah. Because you beat her into obeying everything you said.” I growled back at him.
He stood up very quickly and slammed his fists on the desk.
“You will do as I say, or I will make your life a living hell,” he demanded.
So, I stood up.“Don’t worry, Vincent. You already make my life a living hell.” I said, turning around and leaving the office, slamming the door behind me.
I grabbed my school bag as I walked past the table and stormed up to my bedroom on the top floor of the packhouse, slamming the door behind me and started pacing around my room, trying to calm myself down.
I walked through to the bathroom and grabbed a large bottle of pills out of the cabinet, and I swallowed one with a glass of water, went back to my room and sat down on the side of my bed, waiting for the effects to start working.
I placed my phone back on the bed and headed into the bathroom, where I took a shower and washed my long blonde hair.
Once I finished showering, I styled my hair and put in a couple of fake blue streaks. Then, I stood in front of the mirror to apply my makeup. I walked to my wardrobe and dressed in torn jeans, a black one-shoulder top, black boots, and a black leather jacket.
I stepped out of the wardrobe, closed the door again and walked over to my window, pushing it open.
Looking down at the three flights of steps leading from the packhouse, I saw no guards outside. I climbed out the window, grasped the pipe next to it, and descended about halfway before jumping to the ground, where I landed on my feet.
I ran toward the training fields, moving away from the packhouse. As soon as I reached town, I followed the sounds of the party that had already begun. I found myself walking through the residential area, and when I approached the house, my friends were waiting for me.
We went inside, and I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen. I started to drink it immediately.
“Wow. What’s going on? You only drink like that when you’re angry,” Amelia said.
“Long story, let’s just drink and have fun.”
I quickly finished off the first bottle of whiskey and started on the second.
It took werewolves a lot to get drunk, so I always aimed to drink as much as possible to maximize the effect. Once I grabbed the second bottle, I walked into the living room and began dancing with my friends and everyone else at the party.
They were primarily people from school, and we were having a blast. The music was pumping, and we danced, drank, and tried to forget all our problems.
The lively crowd was dancing until suddenly, a hush fell over the party. I turned around to see a couple of warriors making their way through the crowd, and before I knew it, they had grabbed me by the arm.
"Let's go," one of them replied.
"I'll call you!" Sophia sang out as they pulled me away from the party and back to the packhouse.
They escorted me upstairs to my bedroom. As I entered, I found Vincent holding a belt—not just any belt, but one wrapped in barbed wire. His favorite weapon for when he was really pissed at me.
The warriors left the room and closed the door behind them. I took off my jacket and then my shirt, not wanting to ruin it, leaving me in just my jeans and strapless bra.
He grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the ground, where he started whipping me with the barbed wire end of the belt.
I lost count of how many times he hit me. I was just trying not to cry. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
He didn’t deserve to hear me scream or cry because I knew that’s what he wanted. And he wasn’t going to get that from me.
When he finally stopped, he started walking to my bedroom door, and I realized I couldn’t get up.
I didn’t heal like normal werewolves. I didn’t heal anywhere near as fast as them. And I knew that these marks weren’t going anywhere soon.
Vincent turned back to look at me before he opened my bedroom door.
“Pack your s**t. We’re leaving tomorrow.” He demanded, leaving the room and leaving me bleeding and severely injured on my bedroom floor.
- Writer
