"Mom! Mom!" My scream ripped through the smoke-choked air, tearing at my throat like swallowed glass. "Who did this?! Show yourself, you cowards!"
The scent of burning pine and copper blood, filled my nose, overpowering the sweet scent of rain that usually lingered in our valley. My wolf whined in the back of my head, pacing, frantic, clawing at my mind. The Fierce White Clan was supposed to be a sanctuary. We were supposed to be untouchable here, hidden away from the brutality of the werewolf world. We were peaceful. We didn't provoke anyone.
But the Shadow Clan didn't care about peace, they only cared about power. And tonight, they had breached our borders to slaughter us.
I ran past the burning remains of the packhouse. Bodies of warriors I had known since childhood littered the dirt path, their throats torn out, their eyes glassy. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I threw open the shattered front door of our little wooden cabin. The iron hinges groaned, a pathetic, high-pitched wail against the deafening roar of flames outside.
"Mom!" I shrieked again, my voice cracking, raw with terror.
The living room was trashed. Furniture overturned, claw marks gouged deep into the walls. They had been here. The Shadow Clan rogues had been inside our home.
I followed the sharp, bitter scent of silver and blood. It led straight to the kitchen.
My knees hit the floorboards with a heavy, sickening thud.
"No..."
Grace. My mother. The strongest, kindest she-wolf I had ever known.
She was slumped against the bottom cabinets, gasping for air. A cruel, jagged silver dagger was buried deep in the center of her chest. The dark, wet stain of her blood was spreading rapidly across her favorite floral dress, pooling on the worn oak floor in a horrifying halo.
"No, no, no, no." I crawled to her, scrambling over broken plates and shattered glass. My hands were trembling so violently I could barely grasp her shoulders. "Mom, please. Look at me.”
Her eyelids fluttered. Her skin, usually glowing with the warm vitality of our pack, was terrifyingly ashen. The silver was poisoning her, burning through her veins like acid, completely suppressing her wolf's natural ability to heal. I could smell the rot of it mixing with her sweet vanilla scent.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Just this morning, we were laughing at the kitchen table. She was brushing my hair, telling me I would find my destined mate soon. She had promised we would go to the lake tomorrow. The Moon Goddess couldn't be this cruel. She just couldn't. I wasn't ready to be alone. I was just twenty years old. I still needed her.
"Dera..." Her voice was a wet, broken rasp. A thick bubble of blood formed at the corner of her pale lips.
"Mom, please don't speak, save your strength." Tears rolled from my eye, hot, fast, and stinging. I reached for the hilt of the silver dagger, my fingers hovering over the ornate metal, but I hesitated. Pulling it out would only make her bleed faster. It was the only thing plugging the wound.
"I'm going to get the pack healer. Just hold on for me, okay? You have to hold on!"
She grabbed my wrist. Her grip, usually so firm and comforting, was terrifyingly weak. It felt like cold paper.
"No…. It's too late for the healers.
"It's not too late!" I sobbed, pressing my forehead against hers, uncaring of the blood smearing across my face. "You can't leave me. You're all I have."
The sounds of the brutal massacre outside the snarls of shifting wolves, the screams of dying packmates, the crackle of our history burning to ash faded into a distant noise. The world narrowed down to the kitchen floor. There was only the ragged, shallow sound of my mother's failing lungs. My heart shattered into pieces, piercing my chest from the inside out. This couldn't be real. It was a nightmare. Wake up, Dera, Wake up.
But the metallic tang of blood coating the back of my throat was too sharp. The chilling coldness of her skin was too real.
"Listen to me," Grace whispered. Her eyes suddenly found a spark of desperate, wild focus. She squeezed my wrist one last time, her nails biting into my skin. "The Shadow... they came for... they want..."
She coughed, a terrible, wet, rattling sound that made my wolf whimper in agony.
"Who did this, Mom? Tell me!" My wolf pushed to the surface, flashing my eyes a glowing, lethal gold. The need to shift, to rip the throat out of whoever held that silver dagger, was blinding. "I will kill them! I swear to the Goddess, I will tear them apart!"
"Find..." she gasped, ignoring my vow. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide, urgent, and filled with a secret I didn't understand. "Find... Alpha Praise.”
"Alpha Praise?" I repeated, confusion slicing harshly through my suffocating grief. "Who is that? Mom, what are you talking about? We don't know any Alpha Praise."
"Find him, Dera. Only he can... tell you the truth... only he can... protect..."
Her chest hitched violently. One final, shuddering breath left her lips. Her grip on my wrist went completely slack, her hand dropping to the bloody floorboards with a soft thud. Her eyes glossed over, staring empty and unseeing at the ceiling.
The bond snapped.
