Chapter 1

Evelyn Thorne POV:

The cold wind cut through my thin black dress, a bitter caress against my skin. I forced my eyes to stay fixed on the two fresh mounds of earth, on the simple stone markers that bore the names of my parents: Gideon and Sarah Thorne.

The scent of pine was thick in the memorial grove, and for a heart-stopping second, I expected to hear Dad's voice, a low rumble explaining how to read a broken twig or the meaning of a bird's call. I could almost feel Mom's hand on my shoulder, her warmth a shield against the world. The memories were so sharp, so real, they felt like daggers twisting in the hollow space where my heart used to be.

High on the ridge overlooking the graves, Alpha Philip Blackwood's voice boomed, each word a polished stone of tribute. He spoke of their bravery, their sacrifice for the Gloomfang Pack, how their deaths in the rogue attack had secured our peace. Heroes. That's what they were.

The crowd murmured in agreement, their soft sobs and respectful whispers a symphony of grief that grated on my raw nerves. It all felt like a performance.

I tilted my head back, staring at the bruised purple sky where the moon hid behind a veil of clouds. *They taught me you were just, Moon Goddess,* I thought, a bitter prayer forming in my mind. *They said you protect your faithful. Were they liars? Or were my parents not faithful enough?*

The Alpha's speech ended. One by one, the pack members began to file past the graves, each placing a smooth, white stone on the dark earth-a symbol of respect, a final farewell.

When my turn came, my legs felt like water. I stumbled, and a warm, strong hand shot out to steady my arm.

"They were heroes, Evelyn," Desmond Blackwood, the Alpha's son, said softly. His voice was clumsy with an emotion I couldn't place.

From my other side, Lily Crest, the Beta's daughter, squeezed my hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "We'll take care of you," she promised.

They were my best friends. The last remnants of warmth in my frozen world. But even their presence couldn't thaw the ice crystallizing around my soul.

I pulled my hands away gently. I reached into the pocket of my dress, my fingers closing not around a cold, hard stone, but around the fragile petals of a wild bluebell-Mom's favorite. The act felt like a small rebellion.

A few of the elders nearby shot me disapproving looks as I knelt, their silent judgment a heavy weight in the air. I ignored them. I placed the slightly crushed flower on my mother's grave, my fingers brushing against the cold, damp soil.

"I'm home, Mom, Dad," I whispered, the words a ghost of a sound.

As I rose, my eyes met Alpha Philip's. There was no sympathy in his gaze. No shared grief. Only a cold, calculating assessment, the way a man might evaluate a tool to see if it was still useful now that its master was gone. A chill, entirely separate from the wind, snaked down my spine.

After the ceremony, the crowd thinned, leaving just the three of us standing in the growing twilight. Desmond tried to tell a stupid joke, the way he always did when he thought I was sad, but the words fell flat in the heavy air. Lily suggested I come back to the Packhouse with them, but the thought of all those pitying eyes made my stomach clench.

"I just want to be alone for a bit," I said, my voice hoarse.

Across the grove, I saw him. My little brother, Ren, his small hand clutching the arm of one of the pack's caretakers. His face was a mask of confusion and fear. He was only ten. He needed me. And in that moment, I knew my life was no longer my own. I had to live for him now.

My friends eventually left, their reluctant footsteps fading into the silence. The moment I was truly alone, my strength shattered. I fell to my knees before the graves, my body wracked with silent, tearless sobs. I prayed again, a desperate, frantic plea to the Goddess for a sign, for anything to prove their sacrifice wasn't meaningless.

The sky remained dark. The clouds, impenetrable. There was no answer.

A crack formed in the foundation of my faith, a deep, jagged fissure. I would not be weak. I would not rely on a silent goddess or the cold charity of an Alpha. I would get strong. Strong enough to protect Ren. Strong enough to protect myself.

I pushed myself to my feet, wiping the dirt from my knees. As I gave the graves one last look, my grief hardened into something else. Something solid and sharp. Resolve.

I turned and walked away from the memorial grove, my back straight, my eyes fixed on the uncertain path ahead. I didn't know that, from the shadows of the trees, Alpha Philip watched me go.

His Beta, Richard Stonecroft, stood beside him. "She's strong," the Beta murmured. "Like her parents."

Alpha Philip let out a short, dismissive sound. "Strength is irrelevant. Her first shift is two years from now. If her wolf isn't powerful, she is of no value to this pack."