Beneath The Mask Of Vengeance

ELOWEN

My father's body is cold beneath my hands.

A boy in a wolf mask watches me through brown eyes that never blink.

An hour ago, my biggest problem was a party.

****

I watch them laugh.

The ballroom glitters beneath crystal chandeliers, with wolves hidden behind elegant masks. Some dance. Some drink. Some flirt.

Most of them stare in my direction, hiding their words behind their palms with short giggles.

Even so, all of them look like they belong here.

I don't.

Not with the treacherous secret that hangs over my head.

A girl in an owl mask catches my eye across the room. The moment our gazes meet, she whispers something to the boy beside her.

My lips twitch, curving upward in a desperate attempt at a smile. They both look away.

They always do.

Still, I try. To smile. To wave. To heck, even start a conversation, but they never see me the way they see each other.

I am smaller. Weaker.

Weirder.

The awkward heir they only glimpse once in a blue moon. The fragile girl who never attends the same schools, the same gatherings.

I should have just stayed home.

My thumb finds the edge of my fingernail before I even notice I'm doing it. A small, sharp sting.

I look down. A bead of blood.

Of course. My bad habit.

I press my finger into the fold of my blue dress, hiding it before anyone can see. Not that they're looking. Not that they ever do.

I am not worth a candle next to them. And that is totally fine.

I made peace with that years ago. But my father-the Alpha-believes otherwise. He thinks a girl who has spent her whole life in the shadows simply needs the right room to step into the light.

A masquerade ball. His grand idea of a gentle push.

"Hey." A boy, as tall as a Viking with muscles that could compete against Zeus, stands right in front of me.

A matte-black raven mask covers everything but his flushed-red lips. He smiles, showing off his perfect pearly teeth with sharp canines that sparkle under the night light.

"You good?"

"Huh..."

Is he talking to me?

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to find some other weregirl standing behind me that he is actually addressing. There is no one.

"You're the celebrant, ay?" He speaks yet again, but my jaw refuses to cooperate.

I've never been approached by a boy. Never had the chance to.

And dumb Drake from summer camp at seven years old doesn't count as a boy. The year I got to realise just how different I was from them all and how dangerous my secret was.

"Uhm...yes." I half answer, half stutter, but I'm still grateful the words can form.

He chuckles as I watch his chest vibrate to the richness of his laugh.

My cheeks flush a hot red as I shift my gaze. The strong wind blows from the distance with smoke rising.

Too thick for fireworks. Too low.

Strange.

"You seem like fun." His voice brings me back to us as he walks closer until I am almost dwarfed by him. "Why don't you come join us over there?" Raven mask points to a small gathering.

Their gazes are all on me.

Like I am some sort of amusement to them.

"I..."

His hands reach for mine before I can stop him, pulling them gently from the folds of my dress.

I freeze.

He turns them over, studying the small marks scattered across my fingertips from years of my bad habits.

"Pretty hands." he says.

I try to pull them away. My insecurity clawing even harder.

He has to be lying or be blind...or maybe both, considering someone like him approached someone like me.

To outsiders, I may be the future alpha of the pack, but I don't deserve it. It's still a joke to me that my father believes I can rule actual wolves.

"You don't have to say that." My voice falls low, almost like a plea.

His thumb grazes on my hands, causing my breath to seize.

I look up to meet his gaze. He's staring at me the same way you stare at something precious. "I'm not saying that to be nice. Follow me."

He leads me, and I let him this time, walking slowly behind him yet fast enough to match his long strides until we stop right in front of the gathering.

A gathering of now five wolves and an abnormal.

"You're worse than I heard." A girl, swan-masked, speaks before I can show off my practised attempt at a smile.

"Hey, don't go so hard on her now." Raven mask laughs.

A crease forms on my brows as I turn to look at Raven mask. He's not looking at me; he's biting back a laugh.

"Look at her; how can this lead us?" Another - a phoenix mask - speaks. Raven mask squeezes my hands slowly before releasing.

"She's going to lead us either way, so we may as well be good to her." Raven mask replies, then turns to me. "Don't you think?"

What is this?

"You're eighteen already; you'll have no choice but to begin your journey of being an Alpha, so consider this a light welcome." A falcon mask says. "We'll take the stress of leading the pack off you so it doesn't kill you."

They all laugh.

"Wha...what's going on?" I say, regretting almost speaking the moment I hear how pitiful my voice sounds.

"Don't you get it already?" Swan mask huffs, turning to the rest. "Is she slow as well?"

My heart aches, like a rain of spears has landed in one place.

I feared this day. The day I'd be noticed by them.

"I'd be better off an Alpha than her." Swan continues, her gaze lingering on me with disgust.

This is how they all see me.

With disgust.

Some people would've pretended to at least like me, but I am not worth their pretence.

"You're all so pathetic." My mouth moves before my brain.

"What?" Swan snaps.

"You'll never be an Alpha and that's not because of your insufferable arrogance but because you just don't have the blood." I draw nearer. "You're weaker, lesser and insignificant."

"Say that shit one more time, and I swear to the goddess you'll know the true meaning of 'weaker'." Swan steps even closer, anger seeping through the pores of her skin.

The rest of the wolves gather around, forming a circle to close me in. Evil smirks plaster across all their faces except Swan's, whose eyes are slowly turning red.

The hairs on her skin thicken as her nails grow longer. The evil smirk that follows can only mean one thing.

Branding.

A humiliation ritual done to innocent victims. The bully writes their initials on the forehead of the werewolf victim, and it takes a full day to clear.

But I am not a werewolf. It'll take forever to heal, and then they'll know my secret.

I can't let them.

"Kneel." Swan commands.

"I am your Alpha."

"You're probably not even the real heir to the throne." She fires back, sneering. "Kneel and be branded."

I stand rigid, refusing to kneel to these bullies.

I'd never had the chance to be bullied-always sheltered between the walls of the estate because of what I am-but somehow, a little part of me always knew that if I ever had to come out of those walls, I'd face this kind of humiliation.

My eyes burn from unshed tears, my palm bleeds from piercing nails, and my knees quiver beneath the layers of my dress.

If they see me cave or bare my neck, I'll never be their Alpha.

I'll forever be a puppet with a title.

"Don't make me do my worst." Swan grits her teeth as her aura presses in from around me. Suffocating.

My vision hazes over the five, laughing in mockery.

Mocking me.

What have I done to deserve this?

"What is going on here?" A fierce voice breaks through the tension, causing the five to squirm back into position.

Leaving me open to the eyes of everyone around me. Naked.

"My precious, are these your friends?" My father, the Alpha of Winterhowl Pack, speaks, turning his now softened gaze toward me.

But he knows damn well.

He knows too well that they're not my friends and were about to humiliate me in the worst way possible.

"Kneel."

I'm hurt. Stupid enough to have even entertained the thought of a boy liking me.

"What?" Swan mask snaps, but the instant her eyes fall on my father, she lowers her gaze.

"Do not make me repeat myself." I say, the hurt twisting into a dangerous type of anger I'd never felt before.

The atmosphere thickens with everyone around the ballroom watching us in awe.

Swan mask has no choice. Slowly, she bends until her knees touch the bare floor, but something in me isn't satisfied.

Like a dark cloud slowly consuming my thoughts, I want the same humiliation on her. I want worse.

I want to prove to them that I am not just a person they can drag around like a ragdoll. A desperate attempt at self-validation.

Perhaps I truly haven't made peace with the fact that I am not worth a candle to them.

My gaze falls on Raven mask, the boy who started it all.

"Brand her."

His eyes widen in disbelief, like he has seen a ghost. "Come on now..."

"Do it."

He has no choice. It is either going against the Alpha or ruining his friendship.

An obvious decision.

Swan lifts her eyes to him in desperation, but his choice has already been made.

I turn, walking away from what was meant to be my eighteenth birthday celebration. A coming out.

"No, please." I can hear her beg, but I don't turn back.

I continue to walk toward the mansion with the piercing eyes of guests following me, but it is different this time.

Their reverence can be felt.

"Don't do this." Her begs turn into shrieks. "Please!" A gut-wrenching scream ruptures through the sound of flesh-piercing as hushed gasps fill the ballroom.

"My precious!" I can hear my father calling after me, but I don't wait.

I don't want to.

I rip my butterfly mask off.

This is all his fault. If only he had just provided the birthday gift I asked for, then all would've been well. I never asked for this.

"Moonbeam!"

"Don't call me that!" The words tear from within me as I come to a pause in the foyer, chest rising and falling like a rabid dog. "This is all your fault!"

He exhales.

"They all think of me as some insignificant matter that can never be their alpha, and we both know they're right, so why did you have to force me into this?" A single tear slips from my cheek, then the rest follow before I can stop them. "I'm not even meant to be here."

"I'm an abomination." My voice lowers. "Not even a wolf or your real daughter."

"You are my daughter!" His voice is stern, almost like a caution.

"But not a wolf, and I'll never be."

"You have your mother's blood in you; she was a great wolf."

"A stupid one who laid with a human," I whisper.

"Moonbeam..."

"Don't call me that!" I yell.

The pet name used to be my favourite, coined from what my father says is the most precious season of the year, one where young wolves at the age of sixteen get to stand under the moon, howl for the first time, and transform into their wolf form.

I'd never been more disappointed in my entire life than that night. I should never have had expectations.

"I don't know why you think of yourself as less when you're more than capable." He speaks softly. "You held your ground out there and made them see a true alpha."

"You'll be a great ruler."

"I cannot!" I sniffle. "And I don't care to be an alpha to people who would constantly remind me of how I can never be what they are."

"Moon..." I glare, causing him to swallow his word. "Look, here." He walks closer until his one hand is on my shoulder and the other on my hair, caressing.

"There's good and fierce in you, just the right balance to be a great alpha." He smiles. "You're my daughter, and you'll do well."

With that, he pulls me into a hug, letting my tear-stained makeup plaster onto his expensive grey suit.

"Let your maid take care of your makeup; get back in there and show them the stuff you're made of." He laughs softly. "My precious moonbeam crybaby."

I pull away, watching his laugh deepen.

"You're such a bully, no different from them."

He lifts his hands in the air. "Fine, fine, arrest me, but you won't last a day without barging into my chambers to ask what colour of dress suits you best."

He is right.

I can't live without him.

I may not be related to him by blood, but he's been the only father I've ever known and ever want to know.

"Alpha!" My father's beta rushes into the foyer, face stern.

I don't think I've ever caught him in a smile-he used to be my nightmare when I was younger.

I watch him lean closer to whisper some words to my father, who nods in response.

"Go enjoy your masquerade; I have some duties to attend to." He walks away with his beta, whose heavy steps shake the ground.

I return to my chambers, waiting patiently for Madeline to re-do my makeup. She was sent for more than ten minutes ago but is still nowhere to be found.

I can't say I blame her.

I would hate to be a maid to someone like me, too-crying off her hours-long effort of makeup-but I don't dare take my mask off.

Can't send her running off before she's standing next to me.

"My lady!" The door barges open to Madeline, her eyes hollow with terror. Breath ragged like a woman chased by rogues.

Behind her, the sound of chaos shakes the walls of the estate.

Her lips part with no audible sounds forming, and finally...

"The alpha..."

The words fall weakly from her lips, but I don't wait to hear the rest of it.

I bolt.

Running as fast as my legs can carry me toward his chambers, passing by the multitudes of servants screaming at the top of their lungs with their legs scrambling for safety.

The once-vibrant sky filled with fireworks turns crimson, flames engulfing everything in their path.

An attack.

Father!

"I can't sell the pack to you!" A scream ruptures through the atmosphere. Loud and ghastly.

I pause right behind the secret passage with my palm pressed to my mouth, my breath falling in spurts.

My father's voice, trembling with dread.

"It's not mine to give; it belongs to her."

"Then where is she?" A strange voice replies, heavy and suffocating. Radiating an immense power. Nothing I've ever witnessed.

"This is between us, please..."

"Being stubborn will cost you everything, Magnus Valebrook." The voice again, this time harsher than before. Almost like the devil himself is speaking. "Let it go."

A swelling knot forms in my chest, suffocating. The hairs on my skin rise.

"I can't..."

Crash!

My wince is followed by a sickening grunt. My father's voice-full of pain.

"Run!"

"Run, now!" A voice echoes in my head, unfamiliar, commanding. I stumble back from the door, my heart racing, confusion swarming in my mind.

My father's voice rises again, filled with anguish. "I need to give the pack to my daughter. It belongs to her mother."

Then the voice, mocking, cruel: "Give your daughter to me. She'll make a good addition to my tramps. It'll be easier to acquire the pack that way, don't you think?"

"No, please, she's... she's just eighteen for Goddess's sake!" My father's voice cracks.

I have never seen him like this-not even when my mother, the Luna, passed away. Who are these people?

Through the passage, I can see a body lying lifelessly on the cold floor. The heavy boots bring back the memory of a man with heavy footsteps.

My father's beta.

My chest tightens, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs as terror roots me in place.

"Please, run!" The voice returns, urgent, commanding.

"Then you should've fucking obeyed," another voice sneers, younger, filled with impatience. "You old prick!"

"You have a son too, for Goddess's sake, Quill!" my father cries. "Why are you doing this..."

Thud!

A louder sound echoes through the walls. Heavy.

My father's voice falls, replaced by the grunts of a man.

"Keep me out of your fucking mouth!" the younger voice grunts, his words followed by another heavy thud.

My body freezes. My breath catches in my throat.

The world seems to stop.

Then, a low cackle. A gurgling sound...a sound of death.

"Dad?" The word escapes me, broken, a whisper of disbelief.

A body hits the cold floor, shattering the screams of the wolves outside.

"Dad!" I cry, unable to stop myself. My legs move before my mind can catch up, and I rush into his chamber, falling to my knees beside him.

The room is dark, the only light blazing from the fire outside. The smoke slips through the windows as I reach for my father's form with hazy vision.

"Oh, the daughter is here," a voice sneers, cutting through the haze of my panic. Tears streak into my mouth as I cough.

I look up to see a man standing over me, his expression cold, his son by his side, the metal mask of a wolf covering his face.

My chest tightens. My father... He can't be gone. Not like this. Not now.

My father is used to joking around, so what would become of him if he didn't scare the living hell out of me on my birthday?

This has to be a joke; it has to be one of his stupid jokes!

The fire crackles from outside his chambers.

"You've gotten me, Dad," I whisper through a sniffle, my hand shaking as I tap his body. "Let's continue the party... Come on, you can stop now."

But there is no response.

I repeat the words, louder this time, desperation creeping into my voice. "Dad. This isn't funny anymore; we have to leave before the fire reaches us!"

Still, nothing.

"Daddy!" I shout, my voice breaking as reality hits like a sledgehammer.

The smoke chokes me as I grab my dad, unable to let go.

The coldness of his form seeps into me, and with it, the hollow truth-he is gone.

The man above me laughs, his voice dripping with disdain. "Weak. Worthless. It doesn't even resemble a wolf."

It.

I grit my teeth, my fury rising as my hands tremble, reaching for the hairpin in my hair. I hurl it at him, but before it can strike, the younger boy lunges, blocking it with his palm.

The sharp pin pierces through his flesh, but he doesn't relent.

With everything in me, I try to shove it deeper, but he stands there, still.

His brown eyes are watching me through the wolf mask, evil and void. Unyielding.

And neither am I.

His wretched blood trickles down his arm, dropping right on my father's body.

"Go away, you monster!" I yell at the top of my lungs, wrenching the pin free to pierce his dark heart, but he catches my arm before I can lunge.

My skull crashes into the cold tile, and the world spins violently.

"What a weak pest," he sneers.

I manage to lift my head just enough to see his masked face. Blood-red lips curl into a sneer as he raises a heavy blood-stained vase over me-the young boy who killed my father.

"That's enough!" The older man raises a finger, and the boy immediately lowers the vase.

I lift my head to see the man pressing softly against his temples. "I shouldn't involve myself in things like this." He sighs through his frowning, unruly eyebrows. "I'm too old for this shit!"

"You should return to the capital, Father, and I'll take care of it," the younger boy speaks.

"Are you trying to send me away?"

"No, Father!"

"Then take care of this like I would," he growls. "Prove to me that you're my son."

"Yes, Father." The boy's answer is sharp.

A low laugh escapes his lips as I watch the old man walk toward the door, through the blazing fire.

He leaves his son behind, who watches me through the wolf mask like a hungry predator.

Just two steps forward, and I can feel the coldness of the shoes that belong to the monster who killed my father.

"You should never have stressed my father," he growls, his jaw tightening as he reaches for his pants. A black serpent dangles from his wrist. "This is all your fault."

Weakened on the bloody ground, I helplessly watch as his intentions become clear, looming over me while I clutch my father's body, trembling with fear.

If only I weren't an abomination, then I would've done something to save my father and maybe save myself.

But rather, I lie on the cold floor, unmoving. Coughing.

My muscles aren't cooperating, and my head spins aggressively. Weak.

Through my hazy vision, I can see him lean in. His brown eyes.

The last pair my father saw before his death.

Quill.

Oh Goddess, I might be an abomination unto you, but I plead for one last chance.

A chance to bring this boy to his knees and watch him fade into ash.

Please, Goddess.

"You should never have stressed my father!" And with those words, my world turns dark.

Thunder cracks across the night sky. Lightning flashes in the distance as I collapse to the ground, struggling to catch my breath.

I don't remember where I am or anything else. All I know is that I've been walking until the soles of my feet bleed against the wet forest soil.

My back hits a tree, and I slide down its damp trunk, barely able to breathe.

"Run!"

The voice returns, sharp and commanding, slicing through my haze like a knife.

"I'm tired." My voice is dry and cracked, barely audible above the howling wind. My body sinks into the cold, damp earth as rain stings through my tattered dress like ice.

"Elowen, you have to run!" The voice trembles with desperation. "We can't die like this."

We?

Nevertheless, I try. But my body refuses to move.

"I won't let us die!" The voice roars, its command rattling every nerve in my body.

A sudden, inexplicable surge of strength courses through me. My fingers dig into the earth, and my legs begin to move, dragging me forward inch by inch despite my numbness.

"Who's there?"

A blinding torchlight shines on me from the distance, followed by approaching footsteps.

"It looks like a girl. She's wounded."

The figures draw closer, their lights blinding me. I try to focus on them, but my body gives out before I can make out their faces.

Darkness claims me.

* * *

"No!"

Air tears from my lungs as I jolt awake, my body trembling.

The sheets are wrong. Too soft, too cool, silk instead of the wool I've slept in all my life. My limbs feel like they belong to someone else, stiff and heavy, and both my wrists are wrapped in clean white bandages. The room smells of lavender, and underneath it, something sharper. Medicine.

My head throbs, and the ringing in my ears makes it difficult to see clearly.

"Finally."

I turn toward the voice. Two silhouettes come into view, one sitting and the other standing.

"Two weeks," the man says. Flat. Like a verdict.

I wince, groaning in pain.

Two weeks?

"What's going on?"

Silence.

"Where am I?"

My vision slowly clears, revealing two strangers staring at me with stoic expressions. Their brown eyes radiate an aura unlike anything I've encountered before.

Wolves? Yes.

But something more.

Then it hits me.

My eyes!

My fucking blue eyes!

"Is she stable?" the man asks over my head, as if I'm furniture.

A mirror. I need a mirror.

I scramble across the room, searching desperately for the one thing that will determine whether I live or die.

If they see my blue eyes, my secret will be exposed. The atrocity of having human blood in me. The monstrosity of being a hybrid.

Wolves hate humans. My parents drilled that into me from my earliest memories. I've always vowed never to reveal my secret.

"Honey, calm her down," the woman says.

I keep my head lowered, scanning the room. A black jacket lies folded over the chair by the window, too large to belong to either of them. It smells of smoke and rain as I stumble past it. I don't have time to wonder whose it is.

Then a glint catches my eye.

A mirror.

My legs move faster than I'd have thought possible, but my knees buckle. I stumble toward it, moving only as fast as my weakened body allows.

"Enough!"

A thunderous boom fills the room. Before I can react, the man's hand clamps around my arm, his fingers tightening until I feel the bone. His eyes have flushed red at the edges, his wolf pressing right up against the surface.

This is it.

The end.

I know that look. I was raised to know it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart pounding as I wait for what I've always been told happens to someone like me.

Brutal death.

But seconds pass. The pressure of his aura eases, and his nails loosen against my skin.

I slowly open my eyes to find him still staring at me. Only now, his expression has changed.

My shoulders drop before I can stop them.

Contacts. Still in.

"You are Renna, our daughter. That is the exchange for your life."

"What?"

"Renna Mortimer." His voice is cold.

"No..." I splutter. "I am..."

"I don't care who you think you are." He cuts me off. "We saved your life, and in exchange, you will be whoever we want you to be."

I stumble backward until the back of my knee hits the bed.

"Who are you?"

"Your parents."

"No, who the fuck are you people?" The words escape me in a frightened rush. "Why am I here? Where am I?"

The ache in my head returns with full force. The room tilts, and my knees give out. The floor is cold under my palms.

Memories crash into my mind. My masquerade. The branding. The attack.

The commanding voice in my head.

My father.

Dad!

My chest caves in as though something has been torn from it. The pain climbs into my throat, pressing behind my eyes until I can barely breathe.

My breath hitches. I lift my gaze to the couple standing over me.

"I am not Renna."

The words struggle to leave my lips.

The only thing I have left is myself. My identity.

Nothing else. Not even my father.

I can't let them take that from me.

"If this is what we've settled on, I'll have them return you to where you were found." His jaw tightens. "The way you were found."

"Bloodied, filthy, and closer to the afterlife," the woman adds. "Don't mistake us for good Samaritans."

"Roger!"

A hefty man fills the doorway, a scar dragging down one cheek and disappearing into his collar. He looks at me the way a butcher looks at something he hasn't priced yet.

"We'll send a letter to defer her admission to Quill Ascendancy."

Quill?

My fingers turn cold.

The man turns away, gesturing toward the brute. "Get her!"

"Wait!" I cry, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

Quill.

I remember the name clearly. It's what my father called him. The man whose son took everything from me.

Is this the second chance I prayed for?

I don't know how I ended up here. My last memory is of the boy standing over me with cruel intentions.

I shudder as a tear slips down my cheek.

The couple's glacial gazes settle on me, waiting.

"Why do you need me to be your daughter?"

"You don't question us," the woman replies. "When the time is right, you'll understand."

She continues, "All you need to do is attend Quill Ascendancy in the capital as our daughter. It's a school only the nobles of nobles can dream of attending."

"A school reserved for the point-one percent. A privilege just to mention its name."

"Will the son of Quill be there?"

"That is none of your concern," the man cuts in. "Your job isn't to get close to him."

But there's a chance I'll be near him.

That's enough.

"A job you won't be getting." He turns away as the scarred man approaches.

"No!" The word tears from my throat. My eyes widen, desperation clawing at my chest.

"And why is that?" Mrs Mortimer asks.

Slowly, I rise to my feet, meeting the two pairs of brown eyes watching me. Waiting for my decision.

Elowen Valebrook couldn't save him.

Let her go quiet. Let her sit underneath, where no one can reach her.

Renna can.

"Because I am your daughter." I swallow hard.

"Renna Mortimer."