I stood frozen by the stone bed, staring at the body stretched before me. My body. Pale, too pale, like the moon drained of light. No scent of rot, no shift of breath, no flicker of life beneath the still chest.
For a heartbeat, I clung to a wild hope maybe I was only broken, trapped in some half-sleep, waiting for my wolf to wake me. If Caleb found me, maybe he could pull me back, breathe fire into my lungs again.
But the moment my eyes locked on that cold shell, hope shattered. I was gone. Truly gone.
I sank beside the slab, staring down at my empty palms. What now? Was this it? Trapped in shadow, unseen, untouchable, forever? No taste on my tongue, no scents to ground me, not even tears when I tried to cry. This was what death felt like hollow, endless.
I covered my face, sobbing without sound.
Then I heard it footsteps. Heavy, fast, more than one set.
A wolf entered, his scent hidden beneath a mask, eyes I almost recognized glinting in the dim light. Beside him stalked a tall, dark-skinned figure draped in ritual robes.
"That one," the masked wolf said, pointing at me at the body that no longer held my soul.
The robed stranger yanked the shroud away, exposing me. My abdomen bore the jagged wound that had ended me. My pale flesh gleamed, coated with some strange oil, preserving me like prey meant to be kept fresh.
A chill raced down my spine. My wolf bristled with dread.
The robed man circled, pressing down on limbs, pulling at skin, testing me as if I were not wolf, not mate, not even a daughter of a pack but merchandise.
He clicked his tongue, eyes falling on my wound. "A shame," he said with a thick accent. "Had the flesh been whole, we could've taken the hide clean."
My blood iced. Hide?
They wanted to skin me. Strip me from myself as if I were nothing more than a beast pelt to wear.
How could such things exist under the law of packs, under the watch of alphas and elders? But their steady hands, their flat expressions this was no jest.
When the robed man gathered his cruel tools and leaned close, I screamed with everything I had left. "No! Don't touch me!"
The world snapped black.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in that chamber. The Bolton den surrounded me, familiar yet colder than I remembered. I slumped onto the floor, trembling, my mind replaying the robed man's eyes over and over.
"Down!"
The command cracked through the silence, old yet sharp enough to stir the instincts of any wolf.
My gaze shot up. There he was Jeffrey Bolton. Caleb's grandfather. His presence still carried the weight of an elder alpha, his voice thick with dominance, though age had worn him down.
I hadn't seen him in years. After his mate's death, grief had hollowed him, clouded his mind until he wandered like a lost pup. They'd hidden him away in a nursing den so he wouldn't stray.
The last time I saw him, he'd been fragile, mind soft as a child's.
But now now his eyes were clear, sharp as fangs. He stood like the elder alpha he once was, gaze cutting through me.
I rushed to him, desperate, clawing at hope. "Grandfather, please! Help me. Don't let them skin me, don't let them strip me bare like prey!"
But my cries fell into silence. My body was shadow. He couldn't hear me.
His voice boomed through the chamber instead, steady, merciless. "On the day the Boltons bound themselves to the Sanders, you left Isabel standing at the altar. Whether her sister lives or dies, it is no concern of mine. How can I entrust the Bolton bloodline to one who spits on pack vows?"
His words struck like claws raking down my spine.
I remembered the stories how Adam once chose Sheila against Jeffrey's will, and how the elder's disappointment in his son had curdled into something darker. All his hopes had been pressed onto Caleb, the last chance for redemption.
And now, Caleb had failed him too.
Caleb dropped to his knees before Jeffrey, head bowed, his wolf crouching low in instinctive submission. He didn't dare argue, not when the elder alpha's fury filled the room like smoke choking the air.
"We go by pack law," Jeffrey growled, voice sharp as claws raking bone.
Pack law meant the lash. The whip. And Jeffrey was dead serious.
"I taught you from the time you first shifted," Jeffrey thundered, every word rolling with dominance. "An alpha must never act recklessly. Discipline is your spine, your strength. Did you think my words were wind to ignore?"
I could see the tremor in Caleb's body. He remembered. He'd felt that lash before, when his wolf was still small and his body weak against the bite of leather.
Adam, his father, quickly stepped forward, trying to block the storm. "Father, Caleb was only protecting his sister. His choice wasn't right, but you must see his heart in it."
Jeffrey's glare turned on him, molten with rage. "Pack law does not bend for blood! Reward and punishment are clear. Step aside, Adam. Like father, like son weakness passed down like a curse."
Then his command cut through the chamber: "Bare your back."
Caleb stiffened, but he obeyed, stripping away his shirt. Pale scars lingered faint on his skin, marks from battles both hidden and forbidden, though not fresh enough to betray the secrets of that night with Serena.
Jeffrey raised the whip without hesitation. The strike landed with a crack that split the air, tearing flesh. The scent of blood spilled hot and sharp, making my wolf bristle with pain that wasn't even mine.
Serena stumbled forward, her voice breaking. "Grandfather, punish me instead! I called him. It was my fault!"
But Jeffrey's gaze carved her down cold. "You reek of her your adoptive mother. Seduction and ruin in your blood. Nothing but a temptress." His hand rose to strike her, too.
Caleb surged, shielding her with his body. The lash landed on him instead, biting deeper into already raw skin. He didn't flinch, though his breath shuddered.
Then clap, clap, clap.
The mocking sound of applause cut through the chamber. Damian shoved Carter forward, and the wolf lounged in his chair like a predator amused by wounded prey. A sneer curled his lips. "Caleb clings so fiercely to Serena. To those who know, she's your sister. To those who don't… they'd think she was your mate."
The words dropped like poison. Silence swept the room, faces paling.
Caleb, stoic through his punishment, faltered at that. His wolf stiffened, alarm flashing in his eyes, as if Carter had clawed right through the truth he fought to bury.
Sheila, who had been silent and indifferent, suddenly broke in, her voice sweet but urgent. "Uncle Carter, don't twist words. Serena is unclaimed, untouched. If such talk spreads, it will ruin her. A she-wolf's reputation is her life."
Carter's gaze slid to her, sharp with mockery. "Ah, so you do know a she-wolf's worth lies in her scent and name. Strange, hearing it from you."
Caleb's unease grew heavier with every poisoned word.
Then Sheila knelt before Jeffrey, pressing her head low to the ground. "Elder, the fault is mine. I didn't guide Serena well. She leans too heavily on her brother. Spare them, I beg you punish me instead."
Jeffrey snarled, voice cracking like thunder. "You? You are nothing in this pack. You've never been recognized as Bolton's true mate. You will never wear that title!"
Caleb lifted his head, pain thick in his voice but his tone steady as stone. "Grandfather, don't drag them into this. My choices are mine. My sins, mine. If punishment is owed, strike me."
Carter's laugh cut through, sharp and cruel. "How noble. How soft. To share den and hearth with the woman who slaughtered your dam, to play the loyal pup even as your own blood curdles. No wonder you've forgotten the Bolton name." His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. "Didn't you swear you'd rather die than crawl back to this pack? Yet here you kneel."
Carter's dominance pressed into the chamber, even from his chair. Though crippled in body, his wolf loomed high, an alpha's shadow stretching long.
"I've decided," Carter said at last, voice lazy, dangerous. His fingers drummed on the arm of his chair, steady as war drums. "Better the Bolton bloodline rot in my hands than fall to yours, Caleb."
Every head snapped toward him. The room went still, breathless.
Carter wheeled closer until he loomed right over Caleb, gaze cold as winter. "You never valued it. So now, I'll take it all."
Caleb's face drained of color, his wolf reeling. Panic flickered in his eyes.
And I knew whatever bound Carter and Caleb, it ran deeper, darker, than any of us had ever been told.