Chapter1: Shadows at Dawn

The first lesson Ivy ever learned about fear was that it had no mercy.

It did not come like thunderclap, hard and loud, nor did it announce itself with a boom. No, fear crept. It seeped into her bones, slipped between her ribs, and wrapped around her lungs, turning every breath into a mistake.

Fear was not mere emotion in the Silverfang Pack. It was the law.

And Ivy? She had been born on the wrong side of that.

As she hurried through the packhouse's poorly-lit hallways, head down, the tray she held bore the scents of roasted meat and fresh bread, and her stomach tightened in complaint. Hunger was an old companion, one who had settled in when she was a child and hadn't departed.

Once, as a child of six, she had stolen one bread roll from the Beta's table. A foolish mistake.

By nightfall, she had learned her lesson in the cold, rain-drenched woods, her punishment lifted only when dawn colored the sky in pale gold.

Omegas were meant to endure.

She arrived at the Beta's quarters and rapped her knuckles once before entering. There was the sharp, clean smell of metal. In the middle of the room sat Lucas, a whetstone in hand, moving it slowly, methodically along the edge of a dagger. Amber light glinted across his face, illuminating his sharp features in an unflattering flicker.

She swallowed hard.

"You're late," he said, and didn't look up.

"I—I'm sorry." She set the tray down gingerly and stepped back away.

It didn't matter. Lucas moved faster.

Before she knew it, his fingers were closing around her wrist, squeezing without giving. A bolt of heat shot through her skin, but not warmth—fire, devouring, unbearable.

The mate bond. The one thing that might bring her together.

She had dreamed of it, once. Of running into the wolf the Moon Goddess had picked for her. Of belonging to someone.

Fate had a wicked sense of humor.

"I'm not sure why the Moon Goddess matched us," Lucas murmured, his voice as frigid as the steel in his hands. He tightened his grip until she winced. "You're nothing, Ivy. Less than nothing."

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

Lucas released her, a look of disgust sweeping across his face as though she had sullied him by contact.

"I don't care about the bond," he said. "And neither do you."

She paused briefly to wait for something to rupture inside her for the pain to come surging up, for the wound to fester.

But there was nothing. Nothing but an empty shell where her heart was supposed to be.

Ivy lowered her head and walked out.

The Weight of Silence

The packhouse halls, more frigid than they had been.

Torches lined the stone walls and cast long shadows that reached out like clawed fingers. She had been walking these corridors since the day she was born, but she didn't belong here. Not truly.

Omegas did not dwell in the center of the packhouse. They lived on the fringes, just beyond the edge where the land went wild. Out of sight. Out of mind.

But she wasn't going there yet.

Her feet led her to the training grounds, but she had no business being there. It was irresponsible, foolish even, but something inside her longed to see them—to see the warriors become who she was never free to.

The crack of impact and the growl of sparring wolves, the crunch of a bone that survived too soon filled the air.

Ivy ducked behind one of the stone pillars, peeking out cautiously.

The warriors seemed to glide, their bodies a blur of speed and strength. They slid in and out of their wolf shapes like melted butter, their coats shining in the torchlight. Each strike, each movement, deliberate, crafted through years of training.

Among them stood him.

Alpha Kael.

He moved in the manner of a force of nature—fluid, unyielding, destructive.

Two warriors charged him simultaneously. He avoided the first, grabbing the second by the throat and slamming him to the ground. The impact shook the ground.

Ivy barely breathed.

Kael was a leader that people talked about in awe and fear. He was untouchable. Unyielding. His name burned through the bones of the Silverfang Pack, a blood-written legacy.

He was also the sort of wolf who would never give her a second look.

And yet, as if sensing she was there, he turned.

For one, heart-stopping moment, his eyes locked with hers.

It was so short that it could have been imagined. But she didn't.

Because at that moment, his expression was inscrutable, as cold as winter's breath.

Then he closed the look, pushing her from his mind already.

Ivy exhale slowly.

She should have left then. She should have retreated to her quarters and dissolved back into the void she had crawled out of.

But as she looked away, movement caught her eye.

A wolf, too fast for a trainee, darting between the trees beyond the training grounds.

Not one of their.

The scent hit her first.

Rogues.

Her pulse quickened. She took a step back—

A large hand came over her mouth.

Ivy's scream never escaped her lips.

Cliffhanger & Thematic Depth

The immediate danger Ivy now finds herself in is understandably important here, as it relates to the imbalance of power versus strength being explored. We watch the way Kael is in charge, the way Lucas cruelly rejects her, the way the pack doesn't care about her at all—until she sees the real danger first.

This reinforces: