ELO'S P.O.V
Death came in smiles, but they had fangs, sucking and leaving nothing to remember. Raging a bloodbath and smiling through it. Death was a bitch, but I didn't know that it forced rebirth.
Their death had soiled me, left me with nothing but pain and resentment.
I had been a victim. A victim of circumstance—a victim of murder.
"Oh dear, Luna Elowen is dead."
Dead.
I had just been pronounced dead. The news wrapped around my lungs like a vice, sucking the next breath out of them, and I was forced to remember amidst the hollow feeling in my chest.
Our house had been warm… too warm, that every inch of it reeked of happiness. The kind that took you to oblivion but left a bitter taste afterward.
We had been happy—so happy that we had failed to see the doom hanging over our heads like a dark cloud.
Happiness used to mean something.
Until them.
The monsters that invaded our home and took everything, stole lives that weren't theirs to take.
I used to believe monsters had claws until I met them, the ones that acted like they would die for me.
They were supposed to be family—he was supposed to be my mate, and he was supposed to be my father's brother. Not a murderer. And not an assistant murderer.
I stared at the woman who had taken me in.
I had always been taught that they were our enemies.
The Woodshed Pack.
But I had found a roof here, a place to hide from the monsters that haunted me.
"Did you find it on that paper, Sandra?" I gestured at the pack's paper that must have carried news of my death.
"Yes. Poor girl had been sick."
I hummed. What more could I say?
I couldn't tell her that my death was a lie, that I was right here standing in front of her.
It wasn't believable. It was too dangerous.
I didn't trust her enough to keep my secret.
My name—what is left of it was now just Elo. Ordinary Elo, who was once called Elowen. Once meant to take over a kingdom.
"Didn't you say you were from that kingdom? Years back?"
I nodded hesitantly. What was she getting at?
"Did you get to see her? The Luna of… your kingdom?"
I stared at her. Sandra was a woman in her early fifties. I hadn't expected her to remember information that had been a slip-up on my part.
"No."
Elowen wasn't seen. My father had hidden me that only our family had known what I looked like.
They had heard of me, but I was still a stranger to them.
"That isn't allowed in our culture. The Luna's identity is to remain a secret till death."
That was what I was told. But that doesn't make it sound right.
Sandra screwed her face, seeming impaled by the idea of being hidden.
"That must suck. How does she get to rule over her kingdom then?"
"Behind closed doors."
She shook her head. "I feel bad for her. We all heard the news of her parents' death and now hers."
I flinched, gripping my fingers harder.
My parents.
There had been a massacre. That was what they put out, and it was the truth, only that it was done by their hands.
Jonas and Uncle Rueben.
They had created a nightmare that had turned into a deep, worn-out record at the back of my mind.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't move.
All I could do was watch as my father's head hit the ground, and the silence that followed clawed at my insides.
The shadow of realization had crept over me, cold as ice, as the truth sank in. My father, Alpha of the Dresden Pack, was dead. They had beheaded him. And my mother…my mother was kneeling there, next in line.
I wanted to scream, to tear the world apart with my bare hands. But my body wouldn't listen. I was trapped in my own mind, thrashing, dying inside while my father's lifeless body lay before me.
Then, my mother's gaze met mine. She was silent, her eyes full of pleading but there was nothing I could do to save her.
Then she fell.
Her body hit the ground with a sickening thud, the life draining from her as quickly as it had from my father. They had taken everything from me in an instant.
The pack, the family I thought I knew stood in silence. No one moved. No one spoke. The betrayal hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as I stared at the crumble of my world.
My heart pounded in my chest, the pain unbearable. I felt as if I were being crushed from all sides, a thousand invisible hands gripping my ribs. The weight of their deaths, of their loss had settled deep into my bones.
I had always been prepared for the fight. The blood. The danger. But this…this was something else entirely. This was the end of everything I had ever known.
I heard the whispers. Low and mocking. Some familiar voices, now filled with disgust, like venom dripping from their words.
The traitors I had once called family.
"Run, Elowen," my mother's voice broke through my haze, weak but clear. The mindlink, though fading, still reached me, the last shred of her love. "Run now, before they take you too."
So I ran. I didn't stop running until I was in an enemy's territory.
"Elo?"
I blinked. My hands were shaking. Sandra's voice was distant, like I was underwater.
"Elo?" she called again, more urgently this time.
I snapped out of the mess my mind had created to see a concerned Sandra staring at me.
"You are crying."
I reached for my face, hurriedly wiping the tears away.
"Must be the heat. The weather is so hot," I said, laughing it off, my hands still shaking.
The memory was still fresh, and the resentment I felt was the reason I was still breathing.
I needed to live to be able to kill.
"You keep blanking out."
I forced a chuckle. "Look at you being worried about me."
A scoff. "You wish."
And I bursted out laughing.
Living could feel like this sometimes. One second you are plotting death, and the next, you are laughing like your heart isn't a piece of rock that's pouring red.
Elowen was dead, and I wasn't even allowed to mourn her.
"You should get ready for the trial."
My breath caught.
The trial.
The word echoed through my chest like a death sentence.
The trial was designed to awaken the wolf in you.
Today, I was supposed to shift or die.
But I wasn't even a werewolf.