Chapter 27: Twenty seven
Ella’s POV
The forest goes still. No wind. No rustling leaves. No breathing except my own, shaky and uneven.
Sam stands in front of me, his wolf form massive and tense. His fur is bristling, claws dug into the dirt like he’s ready to tear anyone apart. Jude takes a small step back, his eyes flicking between Sam and the shadows of the trees.
The rogues don’t move. They don’t even blink. Whatever just howled… even they are afraid of it.
And then I feel it.
A cold wave curling down my spine.Not ice. Not fear. Recognition.
Footsteps approach from the darkness. Heavy. Slow. Measured. Like whoever is coming does not need to rush, because no one here can stop him.
My throat tightens. I want to run. My legs won’t move. A figure steps out of the tree line.
He looks the same and nothing like I remember. Tall. Broad shoulders. Long black hair tied behind him, streaked with silver now. His eyes, those familiar golden eyes that used to look through me instead of at me.
My father.
The Demon Wolf.
His gaze sweeps the clearing, calm, slow, terrifying. And then his eyes land on me.
Something inside me breaks open. Old fear. Old bruises.Old obedience.
“Ella,” he says, my name rolling from his tongue like he owns it.
My chest clenches so hard I can’t breathe.
Sam growls, deep and lethal, his wolf stepping forward. The ground trembles beneath each step.
My father barely glances at him.
“You’ve grown,” he says to me, like he’s greeting a child he sent off to school, not the daughter he left to rot.
My voice comes out as a whisper. “Why are you here?”
He tilts his head. “To bring you home.”
Home.
The word feels like a chain.
Sam snarls and moves to stand between us. My father lifts one eyebrow, amused.
“You think you can protect her from me?” he asks, his tone almost gentle, almost curious, almost loving, but I know better. That voice is a trap.
Sam lowers his body, ready to shift back into human form. His wolf form trembles, the shift coming hard and violent.
“Sam, don’t,” I say quickly.
Because shifting in front of my father is weakness.
Showing humanity is weakness.
Sam shifts anyway.
Pain flashes across his face as his bones re-align, fur receding, muscles folding into skin. He stands naked but unbothered, chest heaving, sweat glistening along his collarbone and jaw. He wipes blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
He looks my father dead in the eyes.
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Sam says.
My father studies him. Calm. Cold. Almost bored.
“You marked her,” he says. “How disappointing.”
I feel my breath catch. Marked. Claimed. Owned. Sam steps closer, shielding me more fully behind him.
“She is mine.”
The forest hums like the trees themselves inhale.
My father smiles.
It’s small. Quiet. Terrifying.
“No,” he answers. “She is mine.”
His voice is not loud. But it rolls through the air like thunder. Like prophecy.
I feel Sam tense, his jaw clenching hard enough that his teeth grind.
“I am not yours,” I say softly. My voice shakes. But I say it.
My father turns his eyes to me again. There is no anger. No surprise. Just disappointment. Cold and sharp. Like a knife pressed to my throat.
“You left without my permission,” he says. “You owe a debt.”
A chill shoots through me. Ritual debt. Obedience debt. Life debt.
“No,” I say again, but my voice is thinner this time.
He steps forward.
Sam reacts instantly, his hand grabs my arm, pulling me behind him, shielding me with his body.
My father stops walking.
His smile drops.
His wolf ripples under his skin like a shadow.
“You do not touch what is mine,” my father says.
“And you do not get to decide her life anymore,” Sam responds.
The rogues who had been frozen begin backing away. Even they don’t want to be near the two monsters in front of me.
My father speaks, still calm. “Do you even know who you protected? What she has done?”
Sam doesn’t flinch. “I know enough.”
My father’s gaze sharpens. “No. You know nothing.”
And then his eyes shift.
Gold swallowing black. Black swallowing gold. Demon wolf eyes.
My knees buckle. I grab Sam’s arm to steady myself.
Memories slam back into me, cold floors, screamed prayers, girls crying in the dark, blood, the smell of herbs and fire and death. And my father’s voice whispering,
“This is our purpose.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
No.
This man does not get to own me anymore.
I force myself to speak, even though my voice shakes.
“I am not your daughter anymore.”
My father’s head turns slowly toward me.
The forest seems to hold its breath. Sam’s grip on my arm tightens.
My father just stares. Silent. Expressionless.
Then, softly “You think that matters?” The ground shivers. Not from him.
From another presence, strong, fast, moving through the trees behind us.
My heart stops. Someone else is here.
My father turns his head toward the sound. His eyes narrow. His jaw clenches. For the first time, He looks angry.
Sam glances behind us, muscles coiling, ready to fight.
Jude swears under his breath and shifts into his wolf, just in time.
A shadow bursts out of the trees. Faster than any wolf. Faster than any rogue. Faster than Sam. I scream.
Because I know that shape. That speed. That presence. I know him. My father’s right hand.
The demon wolf who dragged screaming girls from their homes.
The one who held me down while my father carved sigils into my skin.
My brother. Jeremiah. And he is running straight toward me.
Sam lunges to intercept him, But my brother is faster. Too fast. He grabs me by the arm, Sam roars. My father smiles. And the world goes black.