CHAPTER 1
Red Blossom Pack
Rosa Blaire's POV:
The sky was too quiet.
I sat by the window, staring at the stars like I always do. I loved how they flickered gently as if they were whispering secrets only she could hear. My mother always said the stars were the Moon Goddess watching over them.
But that night, the stars didn't feel kind. They felt like warnings.
A loud crash broke the stillness. Then a scream. Then another.
My heart jumped.
Before I could move, my door slammed open. My mother rushed in, her long white dress stained with blood and dirt. "Rosa, come with me," she said, breathless. "Now."
Everything happened too fast.
The hallways of the pack house were burning. The warriors lay lifeless. The scent of smoke and blood filled the air. My father—Alpha Elias Blaire—stood at the gates, sword in hand, fighting off the intruders with a snarl of rage.
"Take Rosa and run!" he shouted to my mother.
But we didn't get far.
The rebels surrounded us. One by one, they fell. The Alpha was stabbed through the stomach as he tried to protect us. I screamed. My mother wrapped herself around me, shielding her from the blade that followed.
"Don't look," her mother whispered, her voice trembling. "I love you, Rosa. No matter what happens."
But I looked. I saw everything.
I saw my father collapse, his eyes wide and empty.
I saw my mother's blood soak her hands.
I saw my entire world die in one breath.
The last thing I remembered before darkness took me was the weight of cold chains around my wrists—and the sound of someone laughing.
Rosa's POV
A freezing splash of water struck my face, yanking me violently out of the nightmare.
But it wasn't a nightmare—not really. My parents were dead. Their blood was still on my skin. The sword still gleamed in my memory. That night still clung to me like smoke.
I gasped, shivering as I jolted up. My back ached against the rough straw floor, and a heavy smell of sweat, damp earth, and something foul-filled my nose. I blinked hard, trying to make sense of the dim, dusty hut around me.
Straw walls. One small barred window. Iron cuffs and ropes.
Girls—some younger than me, some older—sat silently around the edges of the hut. Each one had ropes tied tightly around their legs. Some stared blankly ahead; others shook with silent sobs.
Where was I?
The guard who had thrown the water glared at me, his lip curled in disgust. "Join the queue!"
"W-what queue?" I asked, my voice raspy from thirst.
He stomped toward me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me up roughly. "How dare you question me, you filthy mutt? Did you think you were still some princess?!"
I clenched my jaw to hide my pain as he shoved me forward. "Bitch, stand up and join the slave queue!"
The word hit harder than his hand ever could—slave.
A roaring filled my ears. My breath shortened. I wasn't a daughter anymore. Not an heir. Not a wolf. I was… something to be sold.
He kicked a rusted chain toward me. "Bind her legs," he ordered one of the other girls. Her hands trembled as she did it, eyes never meeting mine.
I stumbled into the line, every step feeling like I was walking further from everything I ever knew.
The sun burned above as we were herded like cattle, dragged through narrow, filthy streets until we reached the town square.
A high wooden stage stood there, surrounded by men—buyers—with coin pouches and eyes like vultures. Some smiled when they saw us. Some licked their lips.
I swallowed hard, my heart thudding in my ears.
One by one, the guards pushed us up the platform. The auction had begun.
And I… I was next.