It had been a week since she'd last seen the child.
Selena's thoughts were heavy as she plucked berries absently from the garden bushes. If his wolf scent was growing stronger, the hunters would soon discover him. She needed to find a way to protect him.
Lost in her musings, she didn't notice her father approach until he called her name.
"Selena."
She froze, her hand hovering over a cluster of berries. Something about his tone sent a chill down her spine. Slowly, she turned and walked toward the table where her weaponry was neatly laid out. Picking up a bow, she notched an arrow, her mind sharpening like the point of the blade.
"Berries?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "I thought you were allergic."
She shrugged. "What? A girl can't willingly eat poison?" she quipped, raising her bow to aim at a bird soaring high in the sky.
"You know why I'm here."
"To convince your daughter to sell herself?" she shot back, her voice laced with venom.
"Well, when you put it that way..." He sighed, his face creased with the weight of his reasoning. "Selena, how do I explain myself? We're doing this for the people."
"No," she said, her voice cold and cutting. "You're doing this for yourself. For the White family name."
Her arrow flew, piercing the bird's heart. She watched as it fell, lifeless—a mirror to how she felt inside, as if her parents had shot her in the heart, too.
"Yes," her father admitted, his voice steady. "I'm doing this for the White family name. Our legacy has been in decline. You are the only thing keeping us alive. You will produce strong heirs—"
"Strong heirs? So I'm just a broodmare now?" she barked, her hands shaking as she picked up another arrow. "Is that why you've chosen me for the crowning?"
"I am a hunter, Father!" she yelled, notching the arrow and releasing it into the sky.
"You are a woman!" he roared back, his voice booming. "And a woman's duty is to produce an heir."
"This is the 21st century, Father. That archaic bullshit doesn't apply anymore!" she snapped, her laugh dripping with bitterness.
"And this is the Hunter family," he countered, his voice like iron. "We stick to our traditions."
"I don't love him! Doesn't that matter? Do my feelings not matter?" Her voice cracked, and she felt the sting of tears she refused to let fall. Her fingers slipped, pressing too hard on the edge of the arrow. Blood welled from the cut, and she hissed, pain grounding her momentarily. "I'm human, Father."
"No," he said coldly. "Feelings don't matter in the hunter world. Logic rules, and you, of all people, should understand that."
His words crushed her. She forced a smile, bitter and hollow. "I see," she said quietly, picking up another arrow. "So... when's the wedding?"
"The night of the blood moon," he replied. "The night of the crowning. When the werewolves are at their weakest, we will strike the Red Wolves and kill as many as we can. As a wedding gift, take out the alpha if possible."
She laughed dryly. "That will be difficult. They'll know it's a blood moon and hide him well. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a Luna. If he did, I could use her as bait." She loosed another arrow, watching another bird drop from the sky.
"Yes, it is a shame," her father agreed, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you sacrificing me because I'm a bastard?" Her words hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting. "I've done everything to make you happy, Father. Am I not enough?"
His gaze faltered, his eyes betraying a flicker of emotion she had never seen before. "Whose blood are you, child?" he murmured before turning and walking away, leaving her alone.
She stood amidst the fallen birds, surrounded by their lifeless bodies, her heart heavy with the weight of their deaths—and her own despair.