Chapter 3: The New Alpha
Aria jolted awake as cold water splashed across her face. She gasped, gasping and wiping her eyes.
"Get up!" a harsh voice ordered. A woman Aria didn't recognize stood over her, empty bucket in hand. "The kitchen needs help, and Alpha Callan says you earn your keep or you don't eat."
Aria scrambled to her feet, still dripping wet. Her muscles ached from sleeping on the hard floor of her old bedroom-turned-storage room. The silver necklace had been changed while she slept, making her feel weak and dizzy again.
"I'm up," she mumbled, pushing wet hair from her face.
The woman—a kitchen worker based on her flour-covered apron—looked Aria up and down with disgust. "The cursed girl," she mumbled. "Can't believe they let you back in these walls."
Aria bit her tongue. Fighting would only make things worse.
The woman tossed her a dirty apron. "Put this on. Kitchen's through the back door, down the hall. Don't make me come looking for you."
As soon as the woman left, Aria changed into the dry clothes someone had left beside her—plain pants and an old shirt, nothing like what she used to wear as the Alpha's daughter. She tied the apron around her waist and followed the orders to the kitchen.
The big room was hot and noisy. Five women worked at different stations, chopping veggies, kneading bread dough, and stirring giant pots. They all stopped when Aria walked in.
"There she is," whispered one.
"Don't look her in the eye," said another. "Bad luck."
A large woman with strong arms and gray streaks in her black hair neared Aria. "I'm Helen, head cook. You'll wash dishes and peel potatoes. Don't talk to anyone. Don't touch anything you're not told to touch." She pointed to a sink piled high with dirty pots and pans. "Start there."
For the next three hours, Aria scrubbed pots until her hands were red and raw. No one spoke to her except to give directions. She caught them watching her, their eyes full of fear and hate.
Her stomach growled loudly. She hadn't eaten since the small box Mia had brought her yesterday.
"When do we eat?" she asked Helen as the cook walked by.
Helen frowned. "Pack eats first. If there's extras, you can have some."
Aria's heart sank, but she nodded and kept working. This was her life now—hated, hungry, and stuck.
Just as she finished the last pot, the kitchen door burst open. Alpha Callan stood there, tall and strong. Everyone froze. Even Helen dropped her eyes.
"Where is she?" he asked.
Helen pointed to Aria, who wiped her hands on her apron and faced him. She wouldn't shrink, even if her wolf was weak from the silver necklace.
Callan's blue eyes locked onto her. "Council meeting. Now." He turned and walked away, clearly expecting her to follow.
Aria ran after him, feeling the stares of the kitchen staff on her back. In the hallway, she had to jog to keep up with his long steps.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"The elders want to see you," he replied without looking at her. "They want to understand the prophecy."
"I don't know anything about any prophecy," Aria declared.
Callan stopped so suddenly she almost ran into him. He turned, his face inches from hers. "Then tell them that. And hope they believe you."
His scent—pine and winter air—made her dizzy in a different way than the silver did. Something pulled inside her chest, like an invisible string linking them. From the flash of confusion in his eyes, he felt it too.
He stepped back quickly. "The mate bond is just magic. It means nothing."
"I never said it did," Aria responded.
His jaw tightened. "The council room is through those doors. Watch what you say. These wolves have waited ten years for the prophecy to occur. They won't take kindly to failure."
The large wooden doors opened to a round room with a long table. Seven old wolves sat around it, including her father Malrik. Their looks were serious as Aria entered.
"Aria, daughter of Malrik, welcome," said an old woman with white hair and sharp eyes. "I am Elder Thea. Please, sit."
Aria sat in the empty chair, aware of Callan standing behind her like a guard.
"Do you know why you're here?" Elder Thea asked.
"Alpha Callan mentioned a prophecy," Aria replied honestly. "But I don't know anything about it."
The elders traded looks. A man with a long white beard spoke next. "Ten years ago, after you... left... our pack seer had a vision. She said the true Luna would return on her eighteenth birthday, bringing the mark of the moon. She would either save our pack or destroy it totally."
"And you think that's me?" Aria asked, confused. "I don't have any mark."
"Remove her necklace," Elder Thea demanded.
Callan hesitated, then reached around and unclasped the silver chain. As it fell away, Aria felt her power return—and something else. The warm feeling in her chest grew stronger.
Elder Thea pointed at Aria's arm. "Look."
Aria glanced down and gasped. On her inner wrist, a crescent moon shape glowed slightly, silvery-blue against her skin. It hadn't been there before.
"The mark appears when the silver is removed," stated Elder Thea. "It proves what we feared—and hoped. You are the one."
"I don't understand," Aria said, looking at the mark. "What does this mean?"
Malrik spoke for the first time, his voice cold. "It means you have a choice, daughter. Help us or kill us."
"Why would I destroy my own pack?" Aria asked.
"Because they cast you out," Callan said quietly behind her. "Because they blamed you for something that wasn't your fault."
Surprised, Aria turned to look at him. His face stayed hard, but something in his eyes had changed.
"I just want to know what happened to my sister," Aria said. "I saw her body being swept away in the river. How can she be alive?"
The elders went quiet. Elder Thea looked at Malrik, who shook his head slightly.
"You're mistaken," Malrik said. "Elira remains dead."
"Then who is the woman Alpha Callan mentioned? The one everyone says looks like her?" Aria demanded.
Before anyone could answer, the doors flew open. A guard ran in, his face pale with fear.
"Alpha! Rogues at the northern border! They've broken through!"
Callan immediately straightened. "How many?"
"At least thirty," the guard panted. "They're killing everyone in their way. And sir—they're led by a woman with blonde hair and green eyes. She's asking for the evil girl."
Aria's heart stopped. Blonde hair. Green eyes.
"Elira," she whispered.
Callan turned to her, his face showing shock that matched her own. "Put the silver necklace back on her and lock her in the safe room," he told the guard. "No one sees her. No one speaks to her."
"Wait!" Aria protested as the guard grabbed her arm. "If it's really Elira, I need to see her!"
"You'll stay put until I say otherwise," Callan growled. "That girl out there may look like your sister, but she's bringing rogues to slaughter my pack. Whatever she is, she's not the Elira you remember."
As the guard dragged her away, Aria got one last glimpse of Callan's face. For just a moment, his hard mask slipped, showing something unexpected—fear.
Not fear of the rogues. Fear of the truth.
The guard pulled her down a different hallway and shoved her into a small, windowless room with thick walls.
"Alpha's orders," he said, clasping the silver necklace around her throat again. The moon mark instantly disappeared. "Stay quiet."
The door locked with a heavy click, leaving Aria alone in the darkness. Outside, she could hear yelling. Chaos. Panic.
"Elira," she whispered again, touching the spot where the mark had been. "What happened to you?"
Somewhere in the distant, she heard a howl—not the usual howl of a wolf, but something different. Something wrong. It made her blood run cold.
Then a voice, carried by the wind, reached her even through the thick walls of her jail.
"ARIA! SISTER! COME OUT AND PLAY!"