Chapter 2 Outcast
Elara pressed her forehead to her knees as a sob finally broke free.
“Papa… I miss you.”
The door burst open, light slicing through the darkness like a blade.
Elara flinched.
A woman stood in the doorway-tall, poised, beautiful in a way that felt deliberate, every inch of her honed to command attention.
“Cierce,” Elara whispered, blinking against the glare.
Cierce’s gaze swept over her in a single, practiced motion. The torn clothes. The blood. The way Elara’s body still carried a softness she had no right to keep after everything done to her.
Something flickered in Cierce’s eyes-fear, maybe. Or envy. It vanished just as quickly.
“Get up,” she snapped.
Elara shook her head weakly. “Cierce… please. Help me.” Her hand hovered over her ankle.
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Once, they had shared secrets in moonlit fields. Once, Cierce had braided Elara’s hair and laughed about the future they thought awaited them. Then Hector died and everything Elara was could no longer stand.
Cierce’s lips thinned. “Help you?” she scoffed. “I’m the future Luna of this pack. Do you really think I’d lower myself to touch you?”
Her eyes dragged over Elara again, lingering this time. On her face. Her hair. The quiet, instinctive grace even pain hadn’t stripped from her.
Too beautiful. Too strong. Too other.
And worse, born with power Cierce would never have.
“You hybrids never know your place,” Cierce added coolly. “That’s why you end up like this.”
Elara bit back a sob and forced herself upright.
Her injured leg gave out the moment she put weight on it. Pain ripped through her as the joint slipped again, sharp enough to steal the breath from her lungs.
“Ah!” she shouted, the sound breaking from her throat before she could swallow it back. She grabbed blindly for the wall, fingers scraping against the stone as she fought to stay upright, heart hammering while the agony burned its way through her.
Cierce sighed, irritation crossing her face… followed by something else. Reluctant. Tight.
“Tch.” She turned her head and mindlinked sharply.
Moments later, a bulky man entered the room, eyes flicking briefly to Elara before settling on Cierce.
“Fix it,” Cierce said. “Before she collapses and becomes my problem.”
Before Elara could pull away, the man gripped her leg and twisted with brutal precision. The joint slid back into place with a sickening pop.
Elara screamed.
Agony exploded through her body, white-hot and blinding. She sagged forward, barely staying conscious.
“There,” the man muttered.
“Thank you,” Cierce said crisply.
When the man left, Cierce hesitated just for a heartbeat. Her voice was colder when she spoke again. “Freshen up.”
She scrubbed herself raw under lukewarm water, washing away blood and dirt and things she refused to name. None of it truly left her skin. Makeup hid the worst of the bruises. A short brown dress was pulled over her body. Tight, revealing, chosen for eyes that were not her own.
When she was led into the hall, sound hit her first.
Laughter.
Music pounding low and heavy. The sharp scent of metal and silver assaulted her nose.
The men crowded the room, their conversations faltering as they noticed her.
Their gazes devoured her.
“Come here, angel,” one called, lips curling into a feral grin.
Elara lowered her head and obeyed. Her body trembled as hands seized her waist, fingers roaming with ownership they had no right to feel.
“My, oh my,” the man murmured. “The Alpha’s pet really is a feast.”
Another scoffed. “Too bad she’s tainted.”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
Their laughter blurred together as Elara’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Slowly, carefully, she edged toward the half-open door.
Cool air brushed her skin. Freedom lay just beyond it. So close she could almost taste it.
Then the noise seemed to dim.
The light shifted.
A shadow filled the doorway.
Elara’s breath caught as a familiar merciless voice cut through the room like a blade.
“Going somewhere, outcast?”