Chapter 2 Marked for Death

✨✨✨

Crimson Hollow – The Night of the Full Moon

The moon rose blood-red above the trees, casting its glow like a curse upon Crimson Hollow. The pack howled in celebration, voices wild and frenzied, but down in the cellar, Elara lay in silence.

Her eyes were open, but she didn't blink. She couldn't afford to.

The stone beneath her was cold and damp, yet her body burned with feverish dread. The words she'd overheard echoed in her mind:

"One little dose of wolfsbane in her tea..."

Tonight was the Moon Ceremony. Wolves would shift, run beneath the stars, honor the old gods. And when the King departed, they would kill her.

Neatly. Quietly.

Just another orphan girl buried in the woods.

She sat up slowly, curling her arms around her knees. Her thoughts were no longer clouded with hope. Hope had abandoned her long ago. But instinct? That still lived in her bones. She needed to survive. Just one more day. Just one more chance.

The cellar door creaked open.

Elara's heart froze.

It was Gretta, the kitchen maid-older, bitter, her eyes hollowed from years of servitude.

"Drink this," she said coldly, holding out a small ceramic cup. "Luna said you must be clean and presentable before the Ceremony. This will help with your... energy."

Wolfsbane. It had to be.

Elara stared at the cup. The scent was masked with herbs, but a faint sharpness lingered beneath.

"I... I'll drink it after I dress," she whispered.

Gretta scoffed. "Suit yourself. Be quick. And scrub that face. The King mustn't see filth if he looks your way again."

The door slammed shut behind her.

Elara didn't move.

She stared at the cup for what felt like forever. Then, with trembling fingers, she tipped it behind a broken stone and watched the liquid seep into the dirt.

Tonight, she would not die.

Not like this.

The pack gathered in the clearing beneath the full moon, their ceremonial robes flowing like smoke. Bonfires blazed. The scent of roasted deer filled the air, and wolves danced in half-shifted form around the flames.

Elara stood at the edge of it all, dressed in a plain white gown that clung to her frame. Her mark-the glowing crescent on her wrist-burned brighter than usual, hidden under a sleeve. She kept her head low, hands clasped, heart thudding painfully in her chest.

She was forbidden from joining the run. Forbidden from shifting in public.

They didn't want their "curse girl" seen.

But tonight, the Lycan King was present-and nothing in this cursed pack was predictable anymore.

Kael Thorne stood tall at the front of the clearing, a dark presence that stole the air from every chest. His black cloak billowed despite the stillness. His silver pauldrons gleamed under the firelight, his expression unreadable.

His eyes, however, scanned the crowd like a hunter searching for prey.

And then they stopped-on her.

Elara flinched.

It was like his gaze pierced through the shadows, through fabric, through flesh-like he saw the mark on her wrist glowing, even as she tried to hide it.

Her wolf stirred inside her for the first time in months, whimpering, clawing-not in fear, but in... yearning.

Mate.

The word slammed into her chest with such force she nearly staggered.

No. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

A mutt like her? Fated to a King?

She dared a glance upward-and found Kael already moving toward her.

Panic ripped through her like a wildfire.

He didn't stop. Didn't hesitate. The crowd parted like waves around him.

Elara tried to step back.

"Don't move." His voice was low, rough-commanding.

The air turned thick.

She froze as Kael stopped in front of her, his gaze fixed on her face, then on her covered wrist.

"You," he murmured, his voice so soft no one else could hear it. "What are you?"

Elara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her heart pounded wildly.

He reached for her wrist.

"No!" she gasped, stepping back instinctively.

Too late.

He caught her hand gently-but firmly-and pushed the sleeve up.

The crescent mark pulsed with moonlight, as if answering some forgotten call.

Gasps echoed around them.

Luna Cressa paled. Alpha Merek stiffened. Warriors whispered. Everyone saw it.

Kael's eyes darkened. Not in rage-but something else. Something primal.

"I felt it the moment I arrived," he said, voice low, guttural. "The bond... it was buried. Muffled. But now I see why."

"No," Elara whispered, her voice cracking. "This is a mistake-"

He growled. Not at her, but at the ones behind her.

"I smell poison on her skin," Kael snarled. "Wolfsbane."

The clearing fell silent.

Kael turned his burning gaze to the pack leaders.

"You tried to kill her."

Luna Cressa stammered. "My King, she's nothing-she's cursed-she's-"

"She is mine."

The declaration shook the ground.

Gasps became cries. The wolves began shifting in panic. Cressa fell to her knees.

Kael's power exploded like a wave-his aura thick with fury.

"You tried to murder my mate," he roared. "That is treason."

Before anyone could react, Kael shifted.

The bones cracked. The air shimmered. In a blink, where a man had stood, now loomed a massive black Lycan-the size of a bear, eyes glowing silver, fangs glistening under moonlight.

He lunged.

Alpha Merek didn't have time to run.

Blood splashed the earth.

Chaos erupted.

Screams filled the night as the King rampaged through the clearing, his warriors holding the others at bay. Luna Cressa tried to flee-but Kael's second-in-command, a scarred warrior named Thorne, slit her throat with silent ease.

When it was over, silence reigned once more.

Kael shifted back, his chest heaving.

He turned to Elara-naked, blood-streaked, and utterly still.

"Come," he said softly.

She stared at him, shell-shocked. "Why... me?"

His eyes bore into hers, softer now. "Because the Moon chose you. And so do I."

---