Chapter 3

The moment I came down from the hills, two guards in black armor blocked my path. They didn't give me a chance to run. They grabbed my arms—one on each side—and dragged me toward the house. The living room was brightly lit. Elena was dressed in a silk robe, leaning against Cyril's chest with a cup of warm milk in her hands. Cedric sat off to the side, peeling an apple. The small knife spun quickly between his fingers. When I was brought in, Elena immediately turned her face into Cyril's chest, as if she had smelled something foul. "Sylvia?" She glanced at me several times, waving a hand in disgust. "Why do you smell like mud and blood? It's awful." Cyril frowned. "Wash up and come back after that," he said disdainfully. "Wait." Elena tugged at his sleeve, smiling sweetly. "It's a good day. Don't get upset over something so small. Sylvia didn't mean it. Let her pour me some water. I'm parched." Cyril glanced at me expressionlessly. "You heard her. Get some water." I lowered my head and walked to the table. The cut in my palm from the bone whistle was still bleeding, and when I touched the warm kettle, pain shot through me. I poured a glass and held it out with both hands. Elena reached for it, but the moment her fingers brushed the glass, she jerked back as if burned. Her face went pale. She clutched her chest and began to retch. A mouthful of blood burst from her lips, splattering across her robe and spraying onto the back of my hand. The blood was dark and foul-smelling, thick with rot. I knew I hadn't done anything. I hadn't touched her at all, but they didn't know. "Elena!" Two voices cried out at once. Pain exploded in my stomach. Cedric sprang up from the couch and drove his foot into me. I let out a cry as the blow sent me flying, and I slammed into the wall. For a second, I couldn't breathe. Everything inside me felt out of place. I didn't think about the pain. I curled around my stomach, shielding it. My pups… "You bitch!" Cedric snarled, his eyes burning with fury. "What did you give her? Were you trying to poison her?" He lunged toward me, then yanked me by the hair and forced me down. My head hit the floor with a dull thud. Blood spilled down my face, blurring my vision. "Stop." Cyril's voice cut through the room. Cedric froze, though his boot still pinned my wrist to the floor. Cyril was holding Elena in his arms, her body limp. He didn't even look at me. He only checked her breathing, then turned to the healer. "What happened?" The healer dropped to his knees, trembling. "It might be… pheromone shock. Ms. Elena is already fragile, and Ms. Sylvia's scent… it was too strong. It triggered Ms. Elena's condition." Too strong? Cyril frowned and finally looked at me. "If you're the one who hurt her, then you'll pay for it with your blood." He gestured calmly, as if giving a routine order. "Take her to the punishment room. Give her two vials of silver liquid so she can't move. Then, draw her blood until Elena wakes up." My body began to tremble. The silver liquid was the poison used on traitors. It drained a werewolf's strength and shut down healing completely. "N-No… Cyril…" My voice barely came out. "I'm with pup—" "Enough." Cyril didn't listen. Holding Elena in his arms, he turned away and said, "Don't make me say it twice." … Ten minutes later, I was locked to an iron bed in the underground punishment chamber. Silver was everywhere. For a werewolf, just being in that room felt like torture. Two enforcers forced my head back and poured the silver liquid down my throat. It burned as it went down, tearing through me. I gagged and tried to retch, but nothing would come up. A sharp needle was shoved into the vein in my arm, after which the blood quickly filled one bag. One bag followed before another one. Cold spread through my body, and my thoughts began to blur. Just as I felt myself slipping away, the door to the chamber opened. Cyril walked in. He had changed into a clean shirt and was wiping his fingers with a handkerchief. He didn't look at me. He went straight to the blood cabinet and checked the filled bags. "Is that enough?" he asked the healer. "Yes, yes!" the healer replied respectfully, nodding. "Her blood has a calming effect. Once it's refined into a concentrated serum, Ms. Elena's condition will improve. Even her complexion will look better." Cyril nodded, satisfied. Just then, Elena's sweet and fake voice drifted in from outside the door. "Cyril… is she all right? I did cough up blood because of her scent, but you shouldn't punish her too hard. She didn't stop there. "After all, I'll be the pack's future Luna. Sylvia is one of my people. I should take care of my people." Cyril stepped out at once, his tone turning gentle as he said, "Don't worry about such trivial things." He stood in the doorway with his back to me, but every word carried clearly. "She's nothing but a worthless nobody. Her blood is the only thing she's good for. Since her scent bothers you, simply wait for her to bleed out and die. Then you won't ever have to look at that eyesore of a face again." Every word Cyril said sent a chill through me. So, this was the real him—colder and more unhinged than Cedric ever was. Elena gave a soft cough and laughed. "That's so mean… but that does sound appealing." Their footsteps faded away. The only sound left in the chamber was my shallow breathing. I lay on the iron bed and turned my head, watching the dark red blood move through the tube. Bleed out… die… So this was how it would end. To them, I was worth nothing. With the last of my strength, my fingers curled weakly and brushed the bone whistle in my palm, slick with blood. It carried Grandma's blood and mine. Suddenly, a warm current surged from it, spreading through my body and fighting the poisonous silver liquid in my veins. My thoughts began to blur. It felt like falling into a dream. I was standing on a vast field of snow. A massive moon hung overhead. Ahead of me stood a white wolf. It was as vast as a mountain, and its fur gleamed like silver. She lowered her head, and in her golden eyes I saw my own reflection. She didn't open her mouth, yet I heard a low and resonant call. I don't know how long had passed before I finally opened my eyes—and with it came a rush of memory. I had never been worthless. I had never been some lowly Omega meant only to clean and bleed. I was a white wolf. Then, everything made sense suddenly. My blood and my scent were powerful soothing agents to any werewolf. And the stronger the werewolf, the more they were drawn to me. The reason I had never been able to shift was simple. My body had been too weak to contain the white wolf's overwhelming power. That strength, along with my childhood memories, had been sealed deep in my mind. But just now, after being pushed through unbearable pain and despair, the bone whistle Grandma left behind had reshaped my body and shattered the seal, restoring both my memories and my power. The realization made my heart race. I stayed still, steadying my breath as I looked out through the high vent at the night sky. The moon was bright, missing only a thin sliver. Three days remained until the full moon. It was also on the same day as Cyril's wedding. I closed my eyes, tightening my grip on the bone whistle, and waited quietly for the time to pass.