Prologue

PROLOGUE

TEN YEARS AGO

Octavia

Age 17

The sun casts a golden hue over our little garden, the flowers dancing in the gentle breeze. I sit on the weathered bench, fingers brushing the petals of the lavender, inhaling their calming scent. The world feels perfect in this moment, a snapshot of tranquility. My parents, Thane and Rosemary, step out onto the patio. Their smiles are contagious, radiating warmth and love that wraps around me like a soft blanket.

I watch as they walk hand in hand along the stone path that leads into the forest, a place where I often dream of running free, my wolf howling with joy. My heart swells with affection; they are my world, my safety, my everything. But that blissful moment shatters like glass when I hear it — a blood-curdling scream slicing through the serene air, sharp and desperate.

I snap my head toward the sound, my heart hammering in my chest. I see our neighbor, a woman with wild eyes and a face twisted in terror, stumbling away from something I can’t yet see. My breath catches in my throat as my mother’s gaze shifts to me, her wide obsidian eyes filled with a fear that grips my heart like a vice.

Time slows, every heartbeat echoing in my ears as five rogue wolves barrel toward my parents, their forms dark and menacing against the backdrop of the golden light. I am frozen, the world around me fading into a blur. My father's voice cuts through the fog, urgent and terrifying, “Octavia! Run!”

Instinct kicks in, and I want to leap up, to rush to their side, to fight with them. But then my mother’s scream pierces my resolve, a haunting, desperate plea — “NO! OCTAVIA, RUN!”

Tears prick at my eyes as the gravity of her words sinks in. I can’t comprehend what’s happening, the horror overwhelming my senses. I turn to flee, my legs propelling me down the narrow path that leads to the packhouse, but I feel the weight of despair clawing at my chest. I can hear them — the growls, the sounds of struggle, the heart-wrenching cries of my parents as they shift to protect each other and me. I can’t look back; I can’t bear to witness their fight, their sacrifice.

I run, the world blurring around me, each step fueled by panic and desperation. “Help! Please, someone help my parents!” My voice is raw, filled with fear, but the words seem to evaporate into the air, unheard.

The packhouse looms ahead, its wooden structure dark against the fading light. I reach the stoop, breathless and trembling, and the Alpha of our pack, Fredrick Leaver, appears. He is a towering figure, confidence radiating from him like a shield, yet in his eyes, I see a glimmer of something else — indifference.

“Octavia?” he asks, his voice steady, yet there’s an edge to it that makes my skin crawl. I stumble forward, collapsing against him, the weight of terror crashing down on me.

“Alpha! It’s my parents, they’re in danger! Rogue wolves — they’re attacking!” My words tumble out in a frantic rush, but his expression doesn’t change. He simply nods, an almost dismissive gesture, before turning to the warriors behind him.

“Check it out. See what’s happening,” he commands, and I can’t help but feel a sense of disbelief wash over me. How can he be so calm? My parents are fighting for their lives!

But before I can voice my confusion, the world tilts, darkness sweeping in like a tide, and I succumb to it, the last thing I hear is the distant sound of my own cries echoing in the void.

When I wake, the room is dim, shadows pooling in the corners. The smell of earth and sandalwood fills the air, and for a moment, I am disoriented, wondering if I’ve slipped into a nightmare. But the reality crashes back in, and I bolt upright, heart racing. Panic surges within me as I remember the last moments before I lost consciousness — the screams, the chaos, the fight.

“Octavia?” A voice cuts through the haze, soft yet firm. I turn to see a familiar face, one of the pack’s warriors, Lysander. His features are tense, concern etched into his brow. “You’re safe now. We’re here.”

“Where are my parents?” I demand, urgency spilling from my lips. “Did you find them? Are they okay?”

He hesitates, and that hesitation sends ice racing through my veins. “We found the rogues. They were driven off, but…” he trails off, and my heart sinks.

“But what?” I press, my voice trembling. “Where are they? Please, tell me.”

Lysander runs a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of frustration. “They were fighting bravely, Octavia. Your father… he fought bravely, and your mother—” He stops again, and I feel the world tilt beneath me once more.

“What about my mother? My father?” I demand, feeling the tears sting my eyes. “What happened to them?”

“Your mother and father…” He swallows hard, and I can see the struggle in his eyes. “They both fought valiantly, but they were overwhelmed. We didn’t find either body after the madness ensued. We’re still searching.”

Those words crash over me like a wave, dragging me under. My mother and father — gone? I shake my head, disbelief coursing through me. “No, no. She can’t be gone. He can’t!”

Lysander reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “We’ll find them, Octavia. We won’t stop searching until we do.”

“I have to go,” I say, the urgency igniting a fire within me. “I have to help.”

“Octavia, you’re in no condition?—”

“I don’t care!” I shout, the desperation clawing at my throat. “They’re my parents! I can’t just sit here while they’re out there?—”

“Octavia!” His voice is sharp, cutting through my hysteria. “You need to listen to me. You’re vulnerable right now. We can’t risk you getting hurt too. You’re a wolf shifter, yes, but you’re still young. You need time to recover.”

But as he speaks, a flicker of determination ignites within me. I can’t be a bystander in my own life. I won’t let fear and despair dictate my actions. I need to be strong, for my parents, for myself.

“I won’t sit here and do nothing,” I say, my voice steadier now, a resolve settling in. “If you won’t let me help, then I’ll go alone.”

Lysander’s eyes narrow, and I can see the conflict warring within him. “You don’t understand, Octavia. It’s not safe. The rogues could return, and you’d be alone. You’re not ready for this.”

“Then help me get ready,” I implore, my heart pounding. “Help me learn how to fight. I can’t just wait and hope for the best.”

He studies me, and in that moment, I can see the respect flicker in his gaze. “Alright,” he finally concedes, a reluctant agreement. “I can’t stop you, and I wouldn’t want to. If you’re determined, then I’ll help you prepare. But you must promise me that you’ll listen. You can’t rush into danger without a plan.”

Relief floods me, and I nod, feeling a sense of purpose settle in my chest. “I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Only I won’t get to practice. I will never fight and get ready for what came for my parents. Three days later, my Alpha has banished me from the only home I’ve known. I have no idea why, but I will find out somehow.