Chapter 2:Shadows strike

The forest held its breath as Dean's teeth grazed my neck, his bite a jagged claim that sent a shiver of disgust down my spine.

The pack watched, their eyes glinting yellow under the full moon, waiting for the blood seal to bind me to him forever. I couldn't do this—couldn't be his, couldn't let this night steal my soul. I know for a fact that I'll be miserable.

But before I could pull away, the world exploded into chaos.

A howl—sharp, guttural, and wrong—tore through the clearing. Not the pack's ritual cry, but something feral, laced with menace. The trees erupted with shadows, dark shapes spilling from the undergrowth like ink. Wolves, but not ours.

Their fur was a clumpy mess, eyes glowing red like some nightmare fuel, and their growls screamed 'you're toast.'

My pack—Ironclaw—stood there like idiots for half a second before all hell broke loose with yelling and bones cracking into their wolf forms.

"Ambush!" Old Galen's creaky voice hacked over the noise, his twisted fingers flailing, yelling at everyone to get their act together."

"On guard!"

Dean yanked me back, his whole self morphing into wolf mode—gold fur everywhere, paws big as my head, growling like he's got something stuck in his throat. 'Stay back!' he barked, all bossy, but screw that—I'm no fairy-tale princess hiding in a corner. My skin prickled, a strange heat coiling in my gut, but there was no time to wonder why.

There was nothing I could do anyway, my wolf abilities, dormant and uncooperative, refused to manifest. It was a bitter irony - with parents who were legendary heroes, I was a disappointing failure, a useless lump of potential unfulfilled.

The Enemy pack came pouring in, it was a madness of sharp teeth and claws.

I go low as a wolf with black fur lunges, its massive jaws clamping down inches from my face. Mira appeared at my side, her slim form shifting halfway—claws out, eyes blazing. " Get outta here, idiot!" Mira growled, clawing the wolf's side hard. It squealed, blood splattering everywhere, and I tripped backward, my stupid silver gown catching on some damn root.

The clearing turned into a damn slaughter pit—wolves smashing into each other, some hitting the dirt dead, the air stinking of blood.

In all that mess, I spotted him—a guy, not some wolf, stomping through the fight like it's his damn yard. Muscular, with hair dark as tar and blue eyes that'd freeze your blood. No fancy robes, just beat-up leathers, all black, he's clearly bad news. His presence silenced the noise in my head, if only for a second. Then he pointed at me, and two wolves broke from the pack, barreling straight for me.

"Dean!" I shouted, but he was locked in combat, tearing into an enemy wolf with savage precision.

Mira latched onto my arm, yanking me hard toward the trees. 'Go, damn it!' she snapped, all sharp and low, but those wolves were faster. One smashed into her, knocking her flat with a yelp. Another grabbed me around the middle, its claws tearing into my side as it hoisted me up over its shoulder like I was an annoying amonday garbage bag. Hurt burned through me, bad and fast, and I hollered, kicking and clawing to get free.".

The man from the attacking pack barked a command, his voice low and lethal. "Take her alive." The wolf carrying me bolted, the clearing shrinking behind us as howls of pursuit rose.

Dean's roar cut through them, furious and desperate. "Selene!" he bellowed, but the trees muffled his voice, and I was gone.

The woods zipped by in a haze, branches smacking my face while that wolf hauled my bridal ass. My side was screaming, blood seeping into my gown, I scratched at its nasty fur, my nails sinking in way too deep, making it growl.

My senses sharpened—the rustle of leaves, the musk of my captor, the distant thump of paws chasing us. What was happening to me?

The man in all black—ran alongside, his leathers blending with the shadows, How could his human form keep up with these wolves at this pace?

He barked orders over the wind, voice sharp as a blade.

"Ragnar, take the flank—keep those bastards off our tail!"

The wiry man from earlier, Ragnar, peeled off with a grunt, shifting mid-stride into a lean gray wolf with a cruel glint in his crimson eyes. He bolted off left, gone into the trees before I could blink, his teeth glinting as he let out a low, nasty growl. This hulking black wolf lugging me around—stinking like wet dog and death—snapped back with a snarl, stumbling a bit when the ground dropped into some rocky ditch. I squirmed hard, scratching at its back with nails that felt way too sharp, making it yip. The damn thing clamped down tighter, its claws biting into me, and I choked down a yell."

"They're still on us!" a third voice shouted—a wiry woman with a braid, half-shifted, her claws glinting as she sprinted behind Lucien.

She sniffed the air, nose wrinkling. "Ironclaw's too damn close—Dean's scent's all over the wind!"

Lucien's eyes narrowed, scanning the ridgeline above. The distant howls sharpened, a chorus of fury closing in. "Lose them," he snapped. "Cut through the creek—mask the trail."

The black wolf veered hard, nearly throwing me as it plunged down a slope toward a gurgling stream.

Cold water splashed my legs as it waded in, the icy shock jolting my senses awake. My vision flickered—too sharp, catching every ripple, every leaf—and that heat in my gut pulsed again, a growl I couldn't release. The wolf splashed upstream, kicking up mud, while the woman with the braid doubled back, grabbing handfuls of wet leaves and moss from the bank.

"Smear it on," she hissed, tossing the mess to the black wolf. It snorted, shaking its head, but obeyed, rubbing the damp muck into its fur as we moved. The earthy stink burned my nose, drowning out the blood and musk.

Smart—Ironclaw tracked by scent, and this might throw them.

Ragnar loped back into view, shifting to human form mid-step, his chest heaving. "Two scouts on the ridge," he panted, wiping blood from a gash on his arm. "Took one down, but the other's still barking. They're not giving up—Dean's rabid for her."

Lucien's jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to me. I glared back. "Then we make them," he said coldly. "Vira, Ragnar—split off. Lay a false trail east, then circle back. Buy us time."

"Waste of effort," Ragnar muttered, smirking at me. "She's slowing us down—drop her and let 'em fight over the scraps."

Lucien rounded on him, faster than I could blink, his hand clamping Ragnar's throat. "She's the prize, you fool. Touch her, and I'll gut you myself."

Ragnar choked, eyes bulging, then nodded as Lucien released him. Vira smirked, already shifting back to a sleek brown wolf, and the two bolted east, leaving a trail of crushed ferns and splashed mud.

The black wolf surged forward again, Lucien at its side, the creek fading behind us as we climbed into a rocky ravine. The howls grew fainter, scattered—Ironclaw was losing us, at least for now. Lucien's eyes met mine, unreadable but piercing. "You're more trouble than you're worth," he said, almost to himself.

"Feeling's mutual," I spat, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. He didn't answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched—amusement, or something darker.

They didn't stop until the trees thinned into a rocky ravine, a hidden den carved into the stone. The wolf dumped me unceremoniously onto the dirt, and I scrambled to my feet, fists clenched.

My braid was a mess, moonflowers smashed into the dirt, and my gown looked like it'd been through a shredder. I barely got a chance to make a run for it before cold iron cuffs slammed onto my wrists, locking me to some rusty loop stuck in the cave wall.

Lucien stepped into the dim light, his pack fanning out behind him—six wolves, some still bloody from the fight, shifting back to human forms. His face was unreadable, but his eyes pinned me like a predator sizing up prey. "Selene of Ironclaw," he said, voice smooth as a blade.

"You're mine now."

"I'm not yours or anyone's," I spat, yanking at the chains. The metal groaned, and a faint tremor rippled through my chest—strange, unfamiliar.

Lucien's brow twitched, but he didn't flinch.

"You will be," he said. "Your mate's father took everything from me—family, home, peace. Now I take you." His words dripped with venom, each one a promise of pain. I glared back, refusing to break, even as my side throbbed and my head spun.

Behind him, Ragnar, cracked his knuckles. "Let me soften her up, Lucien. She's got too much fight."

Lucien raised a hand, silencing him. "No. She's worth more intact." He stared too damn long, like I was meat. "For now."

"What do you want?" I demanded, voice steady despite the ache in my ribs.

"Revenge," he said simply. "Dean's pride, his pack, his future—all of it burns. Starting with you."

He turned to his wolves. "Guard her. No one in, no one out." Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing into the dark.

Ragnar lingered, smirking. "You'll break soon enough, princess." He lunged, feinting a strike, and I flinched—too slow. The shackles bit into my wrists as I jerked back, and a sound slipped out—a low, rumbling snarl I didn't recognize as mine. Ragnar laughed, but his eyes narrowed, like he'd seen something he didn't expect.

Alone at last, I slumped against the wall, the cold stone biting into my back. My side ached, my wrists bled, and that heat pulsed inside me, restless and wild.

Dean would come for me. He had to.

I bite my lip, tasting blood, and forcing it down.

I may be scared, defenseless and alone, But as the guards muttered outside, their voices low and tense, I knew one thing: Lucien had no idea what he'd taken. Not yet.