Queen Of The Forgotten Wolves

Chapter Two

Damien forgot us—so deeply that when we died, he didn’t mourn. He didn’t rage. He celebrated.

He told Elara, “No need for the severance anymore. She's taken care of.”

But death couldn’t hold me. And this time, I was taking Ayla and rewriting our fate.

The wind screamed across Frostfang Ridge as I knelt before the stone gates of Stormfang Keep—my father’s territory. I held Ayla’s frozen hand in mine, my back straight despite the snow slicing at my skin.

Guards whispered behind their steel-forged spears. One of them—a young wolf with pity in his amber eyes—vanished into the hold.

When he returned, his voice was tight. “Alpha Gideon will see you.”

The heavy doors creaked open, and the cold that poured out had nothing to do with the snow.

My father emerged cloaked in black. A massive wolf pelt hung from his shoulders, and a battle-scarred whip coiled at his hip like a living thing. His face was all hard lines, carved from years of rule, but his storm-gray eyes wavered when they landed on me.

“So,” he growled, “the prodigal daughter returns in rags.”

He growled low once. Ayla flinched. I didn't move.

“I won’t beg,” I said, my voice steady. “I won’t plead for scraps. But if you still call me daughter—let us in. Let her live.”

He stared at me for a long time. Then his gaze dropped to Ayla. “She’s yours?”

“And Damien’s.”

Something primal flashed in his eyes. He turned away, jaw clenched. “Break the bond. Sever every tie to that traitor, and you’ll have a place here again. As Selene Stormfang. Your daughter will carry our crest. But if even one thread remains between you and Nightfang...”

“I’ll burn the thread myself,” I said.

Alpha Gideon studied me, then gave a single nod. “Then shed that filth. Bathe. Dress in something worthy of your name. You will not stand before the elders looking like a rogue.”

I lifted my chin. “No.”

His brow arched. “You refuse?”

“I won’t return pretending to be the broken girl who left. I won’t hide behind silk and lineage.”

I took Ayla’s hand. “I’m not here as the discarded daughter of Stormfang. I’ve come back as retribution.”

A flicker of pride crossed his expression. “Then make them remember who you are.”

That same day, still wrapped in blood-stained rags and carrying my half-frozen daughter, I crossed into the capital of Nightfang Pack.

The manor loomed ahead—twisting black stone and bone-thread banners flapping against the sky. Two guards snarled when I approached.

“State your business,” one barked.

“I have a message for Alpha Damien.”

The other scoffed. “Do you think we let strays wander into the Alpha’s Keep?”

I met his gaze. “Tell him his mate has returned.”

His lip curled. “Alpha Damien has no rogue mate. He has Luna Elara—the mother of the future Alpha. If you speak again, I’ll have your tongue.”

I knew this would happen.

I dropped to my knees, pulled Ayla close, and let my voice carry across the stone courtyard.

“Hear me, Nightfang wolves! I am Selene Stormfang—Damien’s bonded mate. Under the Blood Moon, I bore him a daughter. He swore me Luna before the sacred grove, before the Elders, before the Moon herself. And then he left us to rot in the snow!”

Balconies filled with faces. Whispers buzzed through the streets.

“Isn’t she the one who vanished five years ago?”

“She’s a rogue now. She lies.”

“But look at the child... her eyes. She has his eyes.”

I reached into my cloak and pulled out the parchment—stained but intact. “This is the blood-oath. Signed and sealed by his own hand. If he denies me, let the Elders bear witness. I will summon judgment under the Elder Moon!”

The guards hesitated, eyes flicking to the parchment. The Nightfang seal shimmered faintly beneath the cracked wax.

One turned. “Wait here.”

Moments later, the great doors opened.

Damien stood tall in his ceremonial cloak, his shoulders draped in furs. Power clung to him like armor. And beside him, Elara—gilded in silver and silk, her Luna mark gleaming on her brow like a stolen crown.

I met his eyes.

He blinked. Recognition flickered.

“Look up,” he said, voice low.

I did. My lip curled into something between a smile and a snarl.

His face paled.

He knew me.

And I knew the war had just begun.