Chapter 2

Elara Thorne POV:

My first act of freedom was to search for food. The kitchen was as bare as I remembered, a testament to Astrid's cruelty. All I found was a small, stale loaf of bread with green spots of mold blooming on the crust. The phantom pains of starvation from my previous life made my stomach clench.

"Go hunt," I told Magnus, my voice leaving no room for argument. "I want enough meat to last us three days."

He simply nodded, his eyes still wide with a dawning awe, and left without a word.

The front door creaked open a short while later, and my father-in-law, Gideon Stone, stumbled in. He was a large, burly man, and the reek of cheap ale preceded him.

"Astrid!" he bellowed, his voice thick with drink. "Where's my dinner? Is that Omega slacking off again?"

I stepped out of the kitchen, my expression cold and unreadable. "I locked her up."

Gideon stared at me for a second, then burst into a loud, mocking laugh. "You? You locked her up? A pathetic creature who can barely feel her own inner wolf?"

He lumbered toward me, using his height and bulk to try and intimidate me, a tactic that had always worked before. "I don't care what little fit you're throwing. Let my wife out now, and get back to your chores!" He reached out to grab the collar of my worn-out tunic.

My inner wolf let out a warning snarl in my head. A wild light flared in my eyes.

Before his fingers could touch me, I moved. My knee shot up, slamming hard into his soft belly.

Gideon let out a choked grunt, doubling over in pain. Disbelief was etched all over his face. He never thought I'd dare to touch him, let alone with such force.

Rage contorted his features. "You're dead!" he roared. His body began to tremble, the tell-tale sign of an impending shift. His fingernails darkened and elongated.

I knew my current body stood no chance against a half-shifted wolf. But I felt no fear.

My eyes darted to the fireplace. I lunged for the heavy, iron fire poker resting beside it. The tip was adorned with a small, decorative piece of silver, a trinket left behind by a visitor years ago.

Gideon's transformation halted abruptly when he saw the glint of silver. Primal fear flashed in his eyes.

In that split second of hesitation, I swung the poker with all my might. It connected with his kneecap with a sickening crack.

He screamed, a raw, agonized sound, and collapsed to the floor. The silver tip sizzled against his skin, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. The pain and the terror of the silver completely broke his will to fight.

I pressed the silver tip against his throat. He shuddered violently, the metal searing his skin.

I looked down at him, my voice as cold and hard as the iron in my hand. "This house is mine now. Do you have a problem with that?"

He gritted his teeth, pain and humiliation warring on his face. "...No," he finally choked out.

"Good," I said, pulling the poker back. "Go to the woodshed. Stay there with your wife. Before I change my mind."

Gideon struggled to his feet, a venomous glare in his eyes. But he didn't dare defy me. He limped away, dragging his shattered leg, a broken patriarch.

I watched him go, the adrenaline slowly draining from my system. I had gambled, and I had won.

I went back to the kitchen and carefully cut the mold off the bread. As I waited for my son to return, my mind was already racing ahead. I had to get stronger. I had to get out of here.

I had to find Lycus Stone.

The house was quiet, but the balance of power had been shattered and remade. The real fight had not even begun.