Chapter 2
It was Rayan Carr who gave the order.
Though the pack members dared not say it outright, there was only one person in the entire pack who would dare move against me—Rayan Carr.
He didn’t have the courage to face me himself, instead sending a Beta with a pack decree, posthumously honoring Malia Hughes as the Luna of the Silver Crescent Pack.
I shredded the decree with my claws, the golden necklace Rayan had once gifted me glinting in the dim light. The pack members knelt in silence, the grand hall of the Silver Crescent Pack’s headquarters eerily quiet until Rayan finally arrived.
“Giselle, Malia is gone. If you’re not satisfied, I can grant her an even more honorable title.”
“What if I kill Elizabeth Warren and then posthumously name her Luna? How would that sit with you?”
Rayan remained silent.
“I want them to pay with their lives.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Fine.”
My response came too quickly, catching Rayan off guard. He looked up sharply, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Fine.’”
I would do it my way.
I forbade anyone from setting up a memorial for Malia. None of them deserved to mourn her. Then, I sent my warriors to reclaim everything that belonged to Malia.
Shawn Price stood in my way, claws unsheathed, refusing to let us pass.
Elizabeth Warren knelt to the side, her teeth clenched tightly over her lower lip, not daring to speak a word.
With a mere flick of my hand, my warriors flooded the room, pinning Shawn to the ground, his knees slamming hard against the polished floor.
Years ago, when he had begged for Malia’s hand, he had knelt before me just like this.
He and Malia had been caught in secret meetings, and to protect Malia’s reputation, I had forbidden them from seeing each other. Shawn had knelt in front of the entire pack, begging me to allow their mate bond.
If I didn’t give my approval, no matter how close he was to Rayan, he would never have been granted the marking ceremony.
Back then, I had asked Malia,
“If you mark him, you can’t go back.”
Malia’s cheeks had flushed pink.
“Giselle, he promised he would only ever have me. I want to try.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’ll accept it.”
Malia might have seemed gentle, but she was clever and stubborn—a lesson I had learned firsthand.
Her decision to choose Shawn had been as firm as her resolve to leave when the time came.
As children, she had always taught me, “The greatest victory is to conquer without fighting.”
Chapter 3
I was only eight years old when my half-sister stole the heirloom my mother had left me—a luxurious fur coat. I went to my father, the Alpha of the Silver Crescent Pack, to complain. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "The coat was ruined by a rogue’s claws. I’ll buy you a new one." Later, as I passed by my half-sister’s quarters, I saw her flaunting the coat, boasting about its exquisite craftsmanship and the precious gems adorning it. The other pack members oohed and aahed, their admiration fueling her arrogance.
In a cold fury, I shifted my claws and tore the coat to shreds, right off her back. When my father arrived, she was pinned beneath me, too stunned to cry, until she saw him and screamed for help. I held my bloodied claws, my gaze steady as I looked at him. "The rogue ruined my coat, Father. Don’t forget to buy me a new one." My calm demeanor unnerved him so much that he forgot to scold me. I walked away, the crowd parting silently before me.
The next day, an identical coat was delivered to my quarters. I heard my half-sister’s mother had spent all her savings to treat her wounds. After that, my half-sister never dared to come near my part of the packhouse again. Rumors spread through the pack—tales of my ruthlessness, how I prowled the streets at night, seeking revenge. It was around this time that Malia Hughes appeared in my life.
Malia, the daughter of the Beta, pushed me into the lake during a pack gathering. I clawed my way out, grabbed her, and threw her back in. She nearly drowned. Her father went to the Lycan King, demanding that my father punish me severely. The King summoned me, and when he asked for witnesses, no one came forward to defend me—except Malia. "It was Malia who provoked Giselle first," she said firmly. "If there’s to be punishment, it should be fair." The King, after hearing the full story, didn’t punish me. Instead, he ordered Malia’s father to discipline his own daughter.
Before Malia, my philosophy had been simple: hurt those who hurt me. But she taught me something different. "Don’t sacrifice yourself to punish others," she said. "It’s not worth it. Make them suffer without giving them a reason to blame you." I warned her to stay away from me. "I’m toxic," I said. Malia just smiled. "That’s fine. I’ve got an antidote."
From then on, whenever I got into trouble, Malia was there to clean up the mess. The pack stopped calling me a monster and instead pitied me as a motherless girl tormented by her stepfamily. I asked Malia once why she helped me. She shrugged and said, "With your reputation and lineage, you might end up as the Luna someday. I’m just securing my future by sticking with you." I didn’t believe her—not until the day of my Come of Age Ceremony, when my mate bond with the future Lycan King, Rayan Carr, was formally recognized. That’s when Malia told me the truth.
She confessed that she was from another world, sent here to save me. Without her intervention, she said, I would have destroyed the entire kingdom. But now, with my life on the right path, she was ready to leave. "When this body dies, I’ll return to my world," she explained. "I love it there. You can’t keep me here." I was glad, for her sake, that she could go back. I didn’t try to stop her.
But it was Shawn Price who made her stay. At the time, I was happy about it. I didn’t know then that Elizabeth Warren would come into our lives and change everything.
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