Queen Of The Forgotten Wolves

Chapter Five

Elara’s golden eyes shimmered with mock hurt. “Selene, surely you don’t think I withheld your coin, do you?”

She placed a hand over her heart, her voice dripping with wounded innocence. “I’ll have it looked into immediately. One of the Omega staff must’ve gotten greedy… a mutt with no respect for rank.”

With a swirl of her velvet cloak, she turned, her personal she-wolf attendant following like a shadow.

Moments later, two enforcers dragged a trembling young Omega into the training yard. The girl was barely more than skin and bones, her uniform threadbare, her eyes swollen and red.

Lyra followed behind them, her voice high and clear enough to draw a crowd. “This one,” she announced with regal disdain, “stole from the funds allocated for the former Luna and her child. Claimed she needed it for her dying mother.”

She scoffed. “A pretty excuse for a thief.”

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she commanded, “Break her legs. Let her screams remind the rest what happens when you take from the Alpha’s house.”

“No.”

The word cracked like thunder from my throat.

Even if I were a fool, I wasn’t blind enough to believe this scrawny Omega had acted alone. Lyra’s display was too convenient. Too polished.

I stepped forward, reaching instinctively for Ayla—but paused as Lyra signaled subtly behind her. A tilt of her fingers. Barely noticeable. But the intent was unmistakable.

Then they came.

Her two pups—no more than five winters old but already groomed in cruelty—charged forward, snarling.

“You’re trying to take our daddy away!” the girl howled, clutching a sharp stone from the path.

“Bad wolf!” the boy shrieked, his tiny claws unsheathed. “Hit her! Hit her like a rogue!”

The stones flew fast and mean. I turned my body to shield Ayla, but one sharp edge slipped past, catching her temple.

Her scream pierced me.

Blood ran down her face, bright and thin.

Lyra’s children only laughed and reached for more.

I spun, fury igniting beneath my skin. My wolf rose, brushing the surface.

“Touch another stone,” I growled, “and I’ll bury you both before the next moonrise.”

The twins froze, their small bodies sensing the shift in power. They stumbled backward, cowering behind Damien like pups behind a father they knew would defend them—no matter the truth.

“Daddy!” the girl whined, clinging to his leg. “She said she wants to kill us!”

Damien knelt to comfort them, his voice soft, his hands gentle.

Then his gaze found me—cold, sharp, full of blame.

“Selene,” he said, standing tall, “must you bring chaos everywhere you go?”

His eyes flicked briefly to Ayla, then past her—as if the blood on her face was a nuisance, not a wound.

“You’ve been here half a day and already upset the pack. Take your daughter and leave.”

I stared at him.

Not once did he acknowledge Ayla’s injury. Not a twitch of his nose. Not a flicker of concern. He clutched Lyra’s children like they were his own blood, while Ayla trembled in my arms, her breath shallow and rattling.

My heart ached.

I lifted Ayla gently, her small frame pressed to my chest, and stormed toward the Great Hall.

“Healer!” I shouted. “Is there a healer here? I need a medic now!”

Before I could reach the stairs, Damien blocked my path, flanked by two Betas.

“Selene, who do you think you are? Summoning the grand Healer for a bump on the head?”

He motioned to his guards. “Silence her. Take the child.”

Hands grabbed for Ayla. A cloth covered her mouth. Her eyes went wide with panic as her skin began to pale, then blue.

My wolf snapped.

I lunged and bit Damien hard on the shoulder, my teeth sinking through skin and muscle.

He roared, but I was already sprinting through the hall’s entrance, Ayla cradled tightly in my arms.

“Zane!” I shouted, spotting the Royal Healer across the chamber. “Zane! Help her—please!”

The music halted. Every head turned.

The Healer froze, eyes widening in disbelief. “Selene?”

He crossed the hall in a flash, his hands already glowing with healing energy. He took Ayla with practiced care, checking her pulse, her breath.

Above us, seated on the dais, was Lady Vivienne, once Alpha Regent, now wrapped in the dignity of age and power. She leaned forward, voice sharp as a fang.

“Who is that woman? Why does her scent stir old blood?”

Damien dropped into a shallow bow. “My Lady, she’s no one. A servant who lost her place long ago.”

But I was already moving.

I stepped into the center of the room, ignoring the dozens of eyes, and dropped to one knee, pulling a folded decree from my sleeve.

“My Lady,” I said clearly, my voice ringing in the silence, “I am not a servant.”

“I am Selene Stormfang. Daughter of Alpha Garrick. Blood of the ancient Northern Clans. First Luna of Clawfang Pack.”

I lifted my chin.

“And I seek your judgment to sever my bond to Alpha Damien of Clawfang—by rite of blood and betrayal.”