The moist walls of the prison reeked of rot, and the cold stone floor dug into Estella's exposed skin. Her chains clinked softly as she shifted, curling closer into herself.
Her body ached, bruises sprouting beneath ripped clothes, and the weight of sadness pressed hard against her chest. Silent tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face. "Stop crying." The voice inside her head, her wolf, was keen and unwavering.
"I—I can't," Estella said softly, her voice shaking. She choked out. "I can't do it anymore. My parents are no longer living.
Estella's body trembled violently as the memory resurfaced, her sobs breaking into a wretched cry. Her tears, already flowing, came harder, faster, like a river that had burst its banks. The pain clawed at her chest, suffocating, unbearable. Her father—her strong, wise father—had trusted the wrong man.
She could still remember that night, the night her father, the Alpha, had left with his most trusted friend and family because of a warning that the demon-wolves had been spotted near their land. Her father had gone to confirm the threat, and he had walked into a trap.
Victor, the man he had fought alongside, shared meals with, and cared for like a brother, had already sold his soul. He had joined himself with the demon-wolves, causing Estella's father to die.
She and her mother were escorted to the heart of the pack's gathering place without being given the opportunity to grieve the loss of her father. Victor, the traitor, stood before them, his once-familiar expression twisted with cruel satisfaction.
At his side were the creatures he had invited into their house. The Demonic Wolves. Their eyes flashed a horrible red, and their claws were blackened from the recent killings. One of them—a towering beast of a man—stepped forward with a guttural snarl. "Submit or die."
A wave of terror swept through the gathered crowd. Some hugged their loved ones, while others tensed in indignation, but Jonas, her father's beta, was the first to speak up. "You think we will kneel to scum like you?" he spat, striding forward. His silver fur bristled as he began to change and prepare to attack. But he never had the chance.
A clawed hand emerged faster than Estella's eyes could follow, and Jonas' throat was ripped apart in one terrible stroke. His body slumped to the ground, blood pooling at the feet of his companion, who let out a broken sob. Another voice rose, a young omega: "This is wrong! We—"
A silver sword whizzed through the air and sank into his heart before he could finish. Screams followed, as did crying, and the air was filled with a stink of fear. Estella's nails drove into her palms, and her breath shook. She could feel her mother beside her, trembling—not in terror, but in barely contained wrath.
More people would die if they resisted right now. Victor smirked and stepped over Jonas' corpse. "Now that we're clear on the consequences of disobedience..." "Should we try again?" His tone was mockingly patient. One by one, heads lowered. Knees bowed in submission.
Victor stood tall and composed, with his dark cloak wrapped over his shoulders. His very presence demanded stillness. Morak, a particularly ferocious demon wolf, hissed at him impatiently. His fangs flashed in the flickering torchlight as he growled and pointed at Estella's mother,
"The old Luna should be killed right away. Her influence still wields power over the pack. If she lives, she will resist us.
Victor let the words hang in the air before responding, his voice silky but tinged with frigid power. "And what good would her death do us now?" He moved closer, his piercing eyes fixed on Morak's.
"Think, Morak." If she dies, the pack will be thrown into disarray—but chaos cannot grant us control. "It will only make them desperate and reckless." Morak's ears twitched, but he remained adamant. "Then what do you propose?"
A slow smirk played on Victor's lips. "We let her live. At least for now. She is revered and feared by her pack. If she stands, no opposition will dare rise too soon. She will unknowingly suppress those who would otherwise fight back. And if the Council of Packs sees her alive, they will believe everything in the pack remains as it should be. No questions, no interference."
Murmurs echoed among the demon wolves, with some nodding in understanding and others casting apprehensive glances. Victor's tone conveyed a sense of inevitability.
"And once our leader has collected his strength, and this pack has been reforged to our will, we shall strike. The remaining packs will be caught off guard. They won't expect a little pack to be the hammer that breaks them all." Morak bared his teeth and slowly nodded. "You're cunning, Victor. Very good." We'll keep the old Luna alive... for now."
Estella's heart hammered as she and her mother were forced into Luna's chamber. The massive door slammed shut behind them, and the lock clicked into place. The air felt heavy and suffocating. "They locked us in," Estella mumbled, her hands clenched. "Victor must really be happy that we're helpless."
Her mother, Luna, ignored the statement and looked at her with resolute eyes. "We can't stay here." Estella blinked. "What?" "Pack whatever necessities you'll need," her mother said, approaching a dresser and pulling out a little satchel. "We're leaving."
Estella hesitated. "Mother, how? There's no way past the guards, and even if we did escape, where would we go?" The Luna straightened and met her daughter's gaze. "The Northern Territory."
Estella's breath hitched. "The North?" "The pack there is thrice as powerful as ours," her mother explained. "Unlike us, they hold a seat on the council. If they learn what's happening here, they will bring it before the other alphas."
Estella swallowed. That changed everything. If the council intervened, Victor's control over their pack would be short-lived. However, there was still the matter of escape. "I understand," she responded, grasping the strap of her bag, "but how do you plan for us to get past the demon wolf guarding our door?"
Her mother did not respond right away. Instead, she strolled to the farthest wall of the room, stroking her fingertips across the beautiful carvings on the wooden panels. Then, with a quick push, she pressed into a certain groove.