Chapter 2

Cedric looked almost disappointed at Cyril's words. He gave me one last glance and snorted softly before he followed his brother out of the room. The door slammed shut. Silence fell again. As the Alpha's command weakened with distance, my body finally gave out. I collapsed to the floor, and everything inside me went numb. The floor was cold. The chill crept up through my skin and into my bones. The knee guards lay crushed in the corner, marked by a dirty boot print. I didn't pick them up.  I just stood, pulled on my torn dress, and walked out. … I lived in the farthest part of the pack, in the Gray Zone. It was where people like me ended up—werewolves without wolves, the broken slaves, the unwanted. The moment I pushed open the warped wooden door, the smell of blood hit me. "Grandma!" In the dim light, my mute grandmother was curled on a tattered straw mat. She was the only family I had in this world. Three years ago, if she hadn't secretly saved me that piece of bread, I would have died. Now her frail body was shaking violently, blood spilling from her mouth. I threw myself beside her, wiping at it in a panic, but the more I wiped, the more it kept coming. "Save…" Grandma couldn't speak. She could only clutch at my wrist desperately. The pack healer was packing up his bag nearby. When he saw me, he only shook his head as he said flatly, 'The poison reactivated an old injury. There's nothing to be done." "There is! There has to be!" I cried. I grabbed the healer's sleeve. "Please. Give her something. Anything." He shook me off impatiently. "Ordinary herbs can't suppress wolfsbane. You'd need the bloodspirit grass from the Alpha's stores or an Alpha's blood to use as a catalyst instead." He didn't stop there. "Do you really think trash like you has access to either?" With that, he picked up his case and walked out without looking back. An Alpha's blood… I stood there, frozen, as Cyril's faces flickered through my mind. He had just humiliated me. He had just crushed what little dignity I had left, but if it meant saving Grandma… I closed my eyes and reached for the faint mind-link. Because of how long I had been with Cyril and how often I had fed him my blood, there was a one-way link between us. The moment the connection formed, I heard laughter. "…The waist on this wedding dress is a little tight, Cyril. What do you think?" It was Elena's voice—soft and sweet, spoiled with confidence. Cyril answered, his voice low and even, "Then, have them alter it. If you like it, every tailor in the pack will work for you." Something stabbed into my chest, but I ignored the pain and cried out. "Cyril. Please… save my grandmother…" There was a brief pause on Cyril's end. A moment later, the sounds on the other end grew loud and chaotic, as if the pack's broadcast system had been switched on. Elena's delighted laughter boomed through the plaza speakers, echoing across the pack and spilling even into this broken little room. "This is Elena. My wedding to Cyril is next week, and everyone in the pack is invited. On our wedding night, our Alpha Cyril will light fireworks for me all night long. I'll be the happiest Luna in the world." When the announcement ended, cheers erupted throughout the pack. Here, there was only Grandma's ragged breathing. "Cyril…" I sobbed through the mind-link. "I know you can hear me. Just a little blood… or let me take one herb from the stores. Please…" "Shut up!" Cedric's voice exploded in my head, sharp with irritation and disgust. "What is wrong with you? You'd even make up something like this just to get Cyril's attention?" "It's not a lie. Grandma is really dying—" "Enough," Cyril cut in, his voice cold. "Sylvia, stop humiliating yourself. Today is Elena's fitting, and I won't let anything spoil it." The mind-link cut off without warning. A sharp pain tore through my head, and I collapsed, clutching my head. Elena's laughter still echoed from the broadcast. I crawled back to the mat and took Grandma's hand. Her hand had gone cold. Grandma looked at me, and her eyes slowly went dull.  She didn't seem afraid. With what little strength she had left, she reached into her clothes and pressed something into my palm. It was a small whistle carved from bone, rough and weathered. Her lips moved as if she were trying to speak. I knew what she was trying to say. She was trying to say, "Run." Then, her hand fell still. I held Grandma's stiffening body, but I didn't cry. Whatever tears I had left had been wrung out of me by that last rejection. I just sat there, staring, listening to the cheerful music still playing over the broadcast, and thinking how twisted this world was. I didn't know how much time had passed before the door creaked open. A chill swept in, and I squinted. A tall figure stood in the doorway. He was wrapped in a ragged cloak. "Who are you?" I stiffened and stepped in front of Grandma's body. He didn't say a word. He looked at her body on the floor, then at me, and quietly picked up the shovel leaning against the wall. He lifted Grandma and carried her outside. That was when I understood what he meant to do. The ground behind the house was frozen hard. I didn't understand why he was helping me. In this pack, no one wasted effort on a dead slave. … When the grave was finished, he laid her inside, filled it in, and marked it with a simple wooden board. When he was done, he planted the shovel in the ground and turned to leave. "Why did you help me?" I asked. The timing felt too precise. Why now, of all moments? Had he been watching me all this time? The thought barely stirred anything in me. I just wanted to know why. He paused and turned his head. Beneath the hood, I caught the hard line of his jaw, dark with stubble. "Six months ago, in the back alley, you shared half your bread with me." His voice was low and flat. Then, he disappeared into the dark trees. I stood before the lonely new grave, gripping the bone whistle so tightly that its sharp edge cut into my palm. Blood welled up and stained it red. Then a faint stir moved through my belly. It was a strange sensation, like something waking inside my blood, brushing softly against me from within. I pressed my mud-stained hand to my stomach. Two tiny lives were beating there, stubborn and fragile. I was with pup. Now, of all times… I was with pup? But I knew Cyril and Cedric would never let me keep them. I had already lost Grandma. I couldn't lose my pups, too. In the distance, the pack glowed with light. Next week was Cyril and Elena's wedding. And at that moment, only one thought filled my mind—I had to run, carrying my pups away from this place.