I crept quietly to Father's room, each step on the polished stone floor echoing too loudly in the otherwise silent hall.
A metallic tang, the scent of old wood and something vaguely medicinal, hung heavy in the air, a familiar aroma of the Sect's inner sanctum.
I knew something was coming, a storm, probably; I could feel it in the air, a prickle on my skin, a tightening in my chest that had nothing to do with the cool, dry air of our mountain compound. Something truly bad was about to happen—at least to me. Maybe not to everyone, but to me, the weight of inevitability pressed down.
The moment the maid, a mouse-like woman with perpetually downcast eyes, whispered that Father was calling me, a chill snaked up my spine. I knew my time here, within the familiar, if cold, confines of the Sect's rigid order, was probably up. It was time for me to go out and serve my purpose to the Pack, to the Sect. I had no choice, not truly.
I raised my hand, my knuckles pale against the heavy, dark wood of his door, and knocked, as calmly as possible. One, two, three sharp raps. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a secret drumbeat that belied my outward composure.
"Who is that?" his voice, a low rumble, questioned from within. Even through the thick door, it carried the undeniable authority of a man who commanded absolute obedience.
"It's me, Father," I replied, my own voice surprisingly steady, a testament to years of training.
After a few moments of silence, moments that stretched into an eternity where every pulse beat throbbed in my ears the heavy door creaked open.
I stepped inside, the sudden warmth of the room a stark contrast to the chilled hallway. He stood by the fireplace, the dancing flames casting flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the harsh angles of his jaw. He had a smile on his face, a wide, almost predatory grin that rarely reached his eyes.
Yes, I thought to myself, a bitter taste blooming on my tongue, something bad was about to happen. This was it. My time for pretense was over. There was no longer any need for the careful charade of a quiet, studious daughter. I knew Father had finally found a mission for me, a task worthy of my unwavering dedication, and I knew I had to go.
Don't get me wrong; I didn't feel a flicker of sadness, no wistful yearning for the life I was leaving behind. In fact, a surge of adrenaline, almost akin to excitement, coursed through me.
I was happy, truly. My entire existence, my very purpose in this Pack, was to help them with their mission. And those missions, the whispers around the hallowed halls of the Sect confirmed, involved bringing down other Packs that went against our sacred rule. I knew a ton of people I'd gone to school with, young werewolves just like me, had already gone on their own missions, sacrificing peace for the Sect's grand vision. It had never been my turn—until now.
My gaze met Father's, my smile a perfect mirror of his own, a practiced mask of obedience and shared purpose.
"Seraphina," Father said, his voice laced with uncharacteristic warmth, the big smile still plastered across his face.
"Father," I replied, the smile on my lips not faltering as I executed a precise, respectful bow, my gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug before his polished boots. It was a gesture drilled into us from childhood, a display of fealty to the Sect's rigid hierarchy.
"Yes," he said, stepping closer, his imposing shadow falling over me. His voice was brimming with a joyful tone, a rare, almost unsettling sound. "My daughter, my beautiful daughter. It seems that the Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack has taken our offer, and you will now be wedded to him."
A faint tremor, an almost imperceptible shiver, ran through me, quickly suppressed.
Oh, it seems the Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack has fallen right into Father's trap, just like we wanted. He'd been so full of himself; it was about time we brought him down. The thought settled in my mind with chilling satisfaction.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared to get married to him. My fingers, hidden within the folds of my simple, gray tunic, curled into tight fists. There were so many strange rumors surrounding him, tales whispered in hushed tones in the communal halls and the quiet study rooms.
He was a bastard, a barbarian, they said, always switching from his human form to that of a wolf at every single convenience. It felt so profoundly wrong, so utterly anathema to the sacred principles of being a werewolf from my Sect, of controlling the beast within, of embracing the human form as the pinnacle of our existence.
We were not animals to be ruled by instinct. This unbridled shifting, this brazen display of primal power, was an affront to everything we believed. It was about time we brought him down; he had grown too powerful, his influence spreading like a wild, untamed fire through the pack world, so I was all in for this. Every fiber of my being resonated with the mission.
"Isn't this wonderful news, Seraphina?" Father asked again, his eyes twinkling with a dark amusement that mirrored my own.
"Of course," I replied, my smile unwavering. "Of course, Father. It is wonderful news, glorious to the ears of the Sect." The words, rote and rehearsed, flowed easily from my tongue, a testament to years of careful indoctrination.
He threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. "Oh, Seraphina, you've always been good with words, charming in your quiet way. I hope your husband also falls for you, just like everyone in our Sect has fallen for you." The subtle hint of manipulation in his tone was familiar, a tool he wielded with practiced ease.
"Yes, Father," I said, offering another demure nod. He laughed again, his good mood practically palpable.
Elias, the leader of the Blood Moon Pack, was indeed one of the most significant figures in the pack world right now. He was the one who was actually controlling everything, his influence stretching across territories far and wide.
Many werewolves were turning to him, desperate, lost, or simply seeking power, joining their packs with his and claiming his protection. Most of them, especially the ones who, like him, wanted to embrace their "barbaric" nature, had forged alliances with him, even from afar.
He preached being "yourself," letting your wolves run free, indulging in raw, untamed power. It was an ideology that was so fundamentally wrong, so illogical to me, that it made no sense. Why would you run as a wolf, a mere animal when you were also created with two legs, with the intellect and grace of a human being? Why would you channel such stupid energy into being a wolf? Who wants to be an animal, driven by primal urges and savage instincts? That was truly barbaric behavior, and I never understood it whenever I heard rumors about him, the contempt for his ways curdling in my gut.
He was also known for being ruthless and wicked, a force of destruction who went around destroying packs and taking whatever he pleased, his desires unchecked. He was known for being utterly full of himself, thinking everyone in the world had to bow down to him, that his every whim was law. It made no sense to me, this arrogance, this untamed savagery.
Even I, with my supposed understanding of strategic minds, could never truly comprehend him. And yet, the sheer thought of the countless werewolves who worshipped him, who debased themselves to join his cause, made my stomach clench. Disgusting, I said to myself, the word a silent, venomous hiss in my mind.
"Come now, Seraphina," Father said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "In a week, you will be sent in the carriage to get married to him. You know just what to do, don't you?" he added, his fingers brushing against the collar of my tunic, adjusting it, a possessive gesture that made my skin crawl. It was a reminder of my status, my role.
I managed another smile, my lips stretched taut. "Yes, Father. I knew just exactly what to do."
I didn't need to be told. The plan had been drilled into me, subtly at first, then with increasing detail. I was to seduce him, to become indispensable, his fatal weakness.
That part, at least, was going to be simple. Rumors claimed he slept around with everyone as long as you were an Omega, his desires unchecked, his self-control nonexistent. If those whispers held any truth, then this mission was definitely going to be very, very easy.
A cold dread still curled in the pit of my stomach, though.
Never in my life did I think I would be sharing my bed with that barbaric man, especially since I had never done it with anyone else. The thought of his touch, his wolfish instincts, sent a shiver of genuine fear through me. This was scary, to be honest. But then, I had a purpose to this Pack, a sacred duty, and that purpose I was to fulfill, even if it cost me my life, even if it cost me more than just my life my very soul.
"Seraphina, my beautiful daughter," Father said, his voice softer now, almost tender. I just stayed still, my gaze fixed on a distant point beyond his shoulder, not wanting to meet his eyes. Then, he placed a kiss on my forehead, a brief, dry press of his lips that offered no comfort. "I know you will do just well, Seraphina. I believe you will. You will bring justice to us, won't you, Seraphina?"
"Of course," I smiled, the word a hollow echo in the suddenly quiet room.