Chapter 1: Aura Withers
The air in the servant quarters always smelled faintly of mildew and ash.
Aura Withers woke before the bell.
She always did.
Years of surviving Bloodmoon Pack had trained her body to rise before anyone could drag her from bed by the hair for being “lazy.” Even now, in the darkness before dawn, her heart was already pounding as though she had overslept.
The room was freezing.
Thin winter air slipped through the cracks in the wooden walls, brushing against her skin like icy fingers. Around her, the other servant girls still slept beneath ragged blankets, curled tightly together for warmth.
Aura carefully pushed herself upright from the straw mattress.
Every muscle ached.
Yesterday’s punishment still burned across her shoulders.
She reached behind herself slowly, fingertips grazing the raised welts beneath her shirt. A sharp sting shot through her body, but she bit down on the sound before it could escape.
Quiet.
Always quiet.
Making noise only brought attention.
And attention in Bloodmoon Pack was dangerous.
Aura grabbed the faded gray servant uniform folded beside her bed and quickly pulled it over her thin frame. The fabric hung loosely from her body. At nearly eighteen, she was still smaller than most wolves her age.
Weak.
That word had followed her her entire life.
Weak servant girl.
Weak bloodline.
Weak wolf.
Though the truth was even crueler.
Aura had never shifted at all.
Not once.
By eighteen, most wolves had already partially awakened their inner wolf. Strength, enhanced senses, heightened healing—everyone possessed something.
Everyone except her.
Which made her an embarrassment.
A disgrace.
A reminder that Bloodmoon had no place for weakness.
The bell rang through the compound.
Aura immediately stood.
The servant girls around her groaned awake in panic.
“Hurry,” one whispered. “If Stacy sees us late again—”
The girl didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t need to.
Everyone already knew.
Aura slipped her shoes on and hurried from the quarters with her head lowered.
The early morning air bit at her cheeks the moment she stepped outside.
Bloodmoon Pack’s stronghold towered against the fading darkness, massive stone walls wrapped around the sprawling compound like the jaws of some enormous beast.
Red banners bearing the Bloodmoon crest fluttered above the fortress.
Everything about the pack screamed power.
Strength.
Dominance.
The strong survived here.
The weak were crushed beneath them.
Aura kept close to the edges of the courtyard as warriors began flooding the grounds for morning drills. Their laughter echoed through the cold air while servants rushed to prepare food and equipment before the higher-ranking wolves lost patience.
No one noticed Aura at first.
Which was exactly how she preferred it.
She reached the storage building and grabbed a crate of training weapons, struggling slightly beneath the weight.
A group of young wolves passed nearby.
One of them snorted.
“Careful, Withers,” he mocked loudly. “Wouldn’t want the wind knocking you over again.”
Laughter erupted around him.
Aura lowered her gaze.
“Sorry,” she murmured automatically.
The wolves laughed harder.
One bumped her shoulder deliberately as they passed.
The crate nearly slipped from her arms.
“Pathetic.”
Heat crawled into Aura’s face, but she kept walking.
Never react.
Reacting only made it worse.
The training field stretched across the center of the compound, already alive with activity. Warriors sparred in the dirt while commanders barked orders across the grounds.
Aura carefully placed the crate near the weapon racks.
“Late.”
Her stomach tightened instantly.
She turned to find Stacy Withers standing behind her.
Even after all these years, Aura still feared that woman’s voice more than anything.
Stacy’s sharp eyes swept over her disapprovingly.
“You’re slower every day,” she snapped. “Do you think food prepares itself?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
The slap came fast.
Aura stumbled sideways from the force, pain ringing through her cheek.
Several nearby warriors glanced over briefly before immediately losing interest.
No one cared.
Why would they?
She was only Aura Withers.
Stacy leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“You should be grateful Bloodmoon allows worthless things like you to exist at all.”
Aura stared silently at the dirt.
Years ago, words like that used to hurt.
Now they simply felt true.
“Clean the upper hall before the ceremony,” Stacy ordered. “And stay out of sight today. Important guests are arriving.”
Aura nodded quickly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Stacy turned sharply and disappeared back into the crowd.
Aura released the breath she’d been holding.
Her cheek throbbed.
But there was no time to think about it.
There never was.
As she reached for the training weapons again, a sudden hush swept across the field.
Every servant immediately lowered their heads.
Aura did the same automatically.
Boots crunched against gravel nearby.
Confident.
Unhurried.
Powerful.
Even without looking, she already knew who it was.
Damien Greene.
Future Alpha of Bloodmoon.
The strongest wolf of his generation.
And the boy Aura had been stupid enough to love for years.
Her pulse quickened traitorously as his scent drifted through the cold air—pine smoke and steel.
Don’t look.
Don’t.
But she did anyway.
Just for a second.
Damien walked beside Lisha Hall near the center of the courtyard, both surrounded by elite warriors.
Lisha looked beautiful as always.
Perfect dark curls framed her smiling face while silver embroidered fabrics draped elegantly over her figure.
Everything Aura was not.
Where Aura wore servant gray, Lisha wore royal black.
Where Aura shrank herself smaller, Lisha commanded attention effortlessly.
The future Luna of Bloodmoon.
Damien glanced down at Lisha as she spoke, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly.
Soft.
Gentle.
Aura had never once seen that expression directed toward herself.
Something painful twisted in her chest.
Then Damien’s eyes lifted.
And landed directly on her.
Aura froze.
For one horrible moment, neither of them moved.
His expression hardened instantly.
Cold.
Indifferent.
As though she disgusted him.
Aura quickly lowered her head again.
The ache in her chest deepened anyway.
Above them, Bloodmoon’s crimson banners snapped violently in the wind.
And somewhere deep inside Aura Withers, something hollow and exhausted whispered the same thought it did every morning.
Just survive today.
