Chapter two

The Alpha's eyes glowed in the darkness of the night.

For the first time in my life, I felt fear.

I never thought I was capable of it. Growing up in a family that despised me, with a father who struck me daily just because he couldn't stand the sight of me, fear was something I learned to let go of far too early. I had stopped fearing him. And so, I believed I had stopped fearing anything at all.

Until tonight.

Now, I am trembling. Frozen. Terror roots me to the ground, making it impossible to move, to scream. My throat is too dry, my body too paralyzed. I can already picture myself dying—torn apart, devoured alive by an Alpha.

I swallow hard and glance at my father. The man I once feared, the one who always seemed so large and scary, now looks small—insignificant—compared to the massive beast standing before us.

The wolf takes another step forward, its glowing eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. Threatening.

Then, as if deciding I am not the immediate target, his gaze shifts. He turns to my father.

A low growl rumbles from deep within the Alpha's chest, his muscles tensing as he lowers his body, preparing to lunge.

I should feel nothing.

I should watch and feel nothing.

I have spent my entire life hating this man. I believed that if something ever happened to him, I wouldn't care. That I would welcome it.

But now, as the Alpha prepares to strike, something tightens in my stomach.

No matter how much I despise him, I don't want him to die.

The Alpha steps back, adjusting his stance. My father's eyes widen in raw terror.

Then the wolf charges.

"Run! Run!" my father screams, his voice hoarse with panic.

And I do.

But I don't run alone. Before my mind can catch up, my body acts—I grab my father's arm and pull him with me.

It's hopeless.

There is no way my crippled father can outrun a wolf.

Still, we run.

We push forward, feet pounding against the earth, lungs burning. The Alpha gains on us, his massive form closing the distance in mere strides. He's too fast.

I feel like I might cry. The fear is suffocating.

And the guilt.

If it weren't for me, my father wouldn't be here.

"We have to move faster," I whisper, my voice barely audible, breaking under the weight of my fear.

My father tries to speed up, but his weak leg betrays him. He stumbles, his foot catching on a rock and he falls hard. My heart sank in my chest and skips a beat.

I drop to my knees beside him, hands gripping his arms, struggling to pull him back up. But he's too heavy, and I'm too weak.

We turn in unison.

The Alpha is right there.

I barely have time to breathe before my father turns to me, his expression twisted in anger and disbelief.

"Why are you helping me?"

I don't answer. I don't know the answer myself.

I just know that I can't leave him.

"Go!" he shouts. "Run!! Stupid girl! I would have never done this for you! Why are you helping me? We're going to die here!"

He shoves me away, trying to push himself up in the same motion.

I lose my balance.

Pain explodes through my skull as I hit the ground, my head slamming into something sharp and unyielding.

The world spins. Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision.

Through the haze, I see the Alpha. His massive form towers over us.

A deep, guttural growl rattles through the air.

The last thing I manage to do is whisper, "I'm sorry…"

Sorry for what?

For saving him?

For failing him?

For not running when I had the chance?

I don't know.

But as the Alpha descends, the pain dulls. The fear fades.

Darkness pulls me under.

And the last thing I see before I lose consciousness is the Alpha shifting—his form blurring, contorting, changing.

Then, in the dim, wavering edges of my sight, I see him.

A man.

Lifting my father with effortless strength. Growing powerful before he apeaks.

His words fades with the wind and I don't hear what he said. But I read in my father's eyes his words were afar but good.