Heartless Wolf (Wolf Moon Rejected #1)

Chapter 1 - Liv

CHAPTER 1 - LIV

Trigger warning: mention of physical abuse of a female shifter. Please read the Author’s notes pages for more trigger warnings.

Sins of the father. Or in my case, sins of the grandfather. Reparations our pack paid for to this day. Alliances forged and fates sealed, mine one of them.

Dooming me like the sobbing female wolf shifter, Rylie, seated beside me on the sofa, pouring out her story of her escape. Legs tucked to her chest and arms cradling them, she leaned on me, clinging to safety. Collateral damage from yet another territory war.

Dread scraped at my gut as I stroked her hair and shaking shoulders. Terror coursed in my veins like a spike of adrenaline, speeding to my heart to put me out of my misery. I had to find a way to settle our pack’s debt for good or end up like Rylie.

My fingers dug into the arm of Father’s worn, sea-green sofa that had seen better days. Hand-me-down furniture from Leelaw, my grandmother, crammed in Father’s cabin like the scroll chiffonier acting as a minibar sporting his impressive port collection and the rosewood dining table with scroll carved feet and matching colonial dining chairs, hand carved by Maalaw, my grandfather… not that he deserved the title after the suffering he put his family though.

Mother added a modern touch by scraping the outdated antimacassars draped over the armchair and sofa’s head. Fond memories tickled the back of my mind of sitting with Leelaw, listening to her tell stories of her youth as a young wolf shifter. Memories that I ticked away for another time.

My gaze bounced to the cedar cabinet in the dining room, which stored plates, cups, and saucers. Tucked behind it, a secret compartment stockpiled illegal guns we might need if Pack Malice discovered Rylie came here.

Firelight reflected on the cabin’s log walls, burning orange and hot, like my mounting hostility for Pack Malice raising hell in the shifter world. Walls rebuilt after those bastards burned down half our pack’s homes, taking Father and Leelaw two years to rebuild.

Under a new leader, Pack Malice amassed more lands and absorbed weaker packs, like Rylie’s, none of them strong enough to bring him down. If Father wasn’t careful, he might have a repeat of the war from forty years ago on his hands.

Snaps of fireplace flame sparked Rylie’s distressed growl. Taut and on edge, her body was primed to run at the first sign of danger, twitching at every sound. Brown eyes, red and puffy from crying, darted around the room, scanning for threats. Fear scented the air, tart like decomposing garbage.

I captured her hand and she yelped. “Shh. You’re safe here.”

Father paced the length of his kitchen counter, grinding his teeth so hard he might crack his molars. His ashy blond hair looked like a bird nested in it from dragging wrinkled fingers through it.

Two sentries from our pack found Rylie stumbling on the boundary of our territory and brought her through the wards to Father’s cabin. Endless running through the woods ruddied her pale cheeks, scratched and wounded her, and smeared her with dirt and crusty blood. Brambles gashed her clothes, which hung loose on her frail frame.

Stationed by the door, the soldiers awaited their Umbra’s command, trembling with the instinct to return to their patrol and scout for danger.

Father’s jagged growl ordered them outside where they remained, defending his cabin.

Rylie whined at the unexpected motion and kicked out her legs to run. With some shushing, she buried her head into my shoulder, and I curled her back into my embrace.

Heather, my best friend and adopted sister, leaned on her better leg a few paces away. Battered females seeking asylum were our responsibility when they didn’t want a male near them after what they endured. Her psychology background proved invaluable for refugee interviews, assessing their mental state and integrity for shelter in my sanctuary. We couldn’t afford exposure for our secret operation. It would be the death of us all.

Thick auburn hair framed Heather’s face and dark lashes, her eyes. Tension locked her jaw, and she pulled her long, woolen pullover tighter and hugged her waist, hiding her curvaceous body beneath the thick layers. In the dim light cast by the fireplace, her hazel eyes darkened to a forest green.

“Please, don’t send me back.” Rylie’s pitiful begging closed my throat and cut off my air supply. “They’ll kill me.”

Defectors were thrown into the Pack Malice’s fighting ring to fend off attacks from six wolves. Exactly where I’d end up if I refused my future fucking husband’s advances. Vicious bastard flouted all the accords, breaking them one by one, and no pack was strong enough to hold him to account.

Poisonous vines of ivy wrapped around my chest, blistering my heart. It was the same story with every escaped shifter we sheltered in our sanctuary. Defeated packs forced to assimilate into the Malice gang. Degraded, spat on, kicked, put into slavery, the females abused and taken as whores.

I pressed her head to the pocket between my neck and shoulder. “That won’t happen.”

Father’s withering glare ordered me to reel those words back in. The third refugee in six months pushed the pack’s resources to cope with another mouth to feed. Hiding too many renegades in our sanctuary risked the ire of the Pack Malice if they discovered our activities. Blasts of Alpha power signaled for me to leave the female and take a walk with him outside in the fresh Bathurst air.

Readying myself, I patted Rylie’s hair and braced her gaunt face between my hands. “Stay here, sweetheart.” I hit her with my own Alpha command, and she tucked her head in submission.

Lacerated, dirty hands came to mine, nails digging into my fingers. “Don’t leave me.”

Another chip splintered from my heart and shattered at the bottom of my ribcage. Bitterness, rage, and lust for vengeance coated my scent, mixing in a foul concoction that burned my nose.

Father’s impatience crackled in the space between us. He wanted her gone, shipped off to another state, a pack hundreds of kilometers away. Far enough to deflect any suspicion landing on us. We already went to great lengths to hide and protect the shelter from invaders with magical wards, which were costly to uphold every month when the full moon weakened and reset them.

Resentment burned a hole through my insides, and my teeth sharpened and lengthened, ready for battle to avenge this broken wolf.

Pack Malice constantly elevated or started bullshit disputes with surrounding packs. Conflicts that ended in attacks, killing the Alpha and his family, slaughtering any wolf who refused assimilation into their pack. Means to bolster their numbers and strength.

After the conquering of Rylie’s pack, her father, the enforcer, earned his death for his loyalty to their Alpha. Her mother was taken as a whore and died in a bar fight. Rylie and her brother were disgraced and treated like vermin, regularly beaten and abused until tonight, when three wolves killed him, and she broke free.

I brushed mud stains from her cheek. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.” I lifted a finger in my sister’s direction. “My sister, Heather, over there will stay with you while I get you a blanket and a warm cup of tea or coffee. What do you like?”

“Ccc… coffee wittthh creaamm and one sugar.” Her teeth rattled so hard she barely got the words out.

Hazel eyes brimming with sympathy, Heather limped across the room, her movements slow and steady to avoid startling Rylie.

“Hey, honey. Can I sit with you? Will you be comfortable with that?” The calm and soothing approach. Win trust. Extract valuable information.

Rylie’s pale blue gaze flicked to me, seeking support, and I nodded, giving it without the forceful Alpha command. “Yyyy… yes.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” Heather’s mouth and eyes pinched as she lowered herself to sit beside the neglected female. “May I take your hand?”

Rylie whimpered her permission. Poor thing needed to be held and reassured she was safe and never had to go back to that world. A hope Father was about to crush, judging by his dismissive gaze.

Fear collared my throat. I’d become a toy for TJ Malice to play with once I became his in less than a month.

“How can I help you, honey?” Heather clasped the female’s shredded hand, making the terrified soul flinch. “What do you need to feel safe?”

“Music,” the broken female spluttered. “It makes me forget.”

“I listen to movie soundtracks to carry me away too.” Heather gave a friendly, comforting smile. “I’m just going to retrieve my phone.” Slowly, she slipped her cell from her pocket and activated music from her library.

The pack’s land didn’t get the best reception for music apps or the internet, and we made do, storing tunes on our phones, burned CDs, or hard drives.

A fraction of tension melted from Rylie’s scrawny frame, and she reclined in her seat, tapping the beat on her knees.

Heather gave my father and me a nod to signal she had this handled.

Rylie’s scent spiked as my father led us out of his cabin, down the porch’s steps to the path leading to the woods, out of hearing range. “We can’t take her. We don’t have the resources to care for her.” My spine snapped at the harsh bark forcing me to obey. “Send her back to Pack Malice where she belongs.”

Father sounded like a heartless asshole at times like these. Animal instincts led him in these decisions rather than his humanity. Practical perspective, he called it. Protect the pack first, our lands second, and assets third. The lives of the fifty shifters under our care were priority over anything else. Lessons he mentored me in preparing for me to assume his mantle… a future stripped from me since he never acquired enough money to pay off our debt.

The most important lesson he imparted was to throw the occasional fish back into the ocean to deter Pack Malice from suspecting we harbored their runaways. Rylie was small and weak, not a strong, hardy soldier capable of defending our lands if the enemy invaded us.

A perspective Father and I didn’t share. Every life mattered to me. Frail. Young. Old. Wolf shifter or other types. With the Guild hunting down and eliminating half-breed shifters like us, we couldn’t afford to be picky, and needed every single ally on our side when the war to end all wars came.

Rebellion burned through my veins. “We’re not sending anyone back. We opened the sanctuary to take in shifters in need.”

Selfish reasons backed our decision when we needed greater numbers to strengthen ourselves against Pack Malice. Protection and loyalty earned us defenders if another war broke out.

Father cared more about the bottom line. Funds, resources, time, and effort. He taught me to tackle everything from a business perspective, but that came at the cost of my nurturing female Alpha instincts. Sympathizing with Rylie’s experiences, I struggled to suppress these impulses.

If I somehow managed to escape my fate and found a way out of my intended union, I vowed to change things. Get out from under the thumb of Pack Malice. Assert our strength and dominance. Elimination of every filthy Malice spawn and freedom to their prisoners.

Alpha dominance pushed me from every angle. Submit. Obey. Father sensing my resistance along our pack bond. “We’re sending her back and that’s an order, daughter.”

Daughter. Ugh. I hated it when he used that word on me.

Reluctance tugged at my insides as I bowed my gaze. “Yes, Father.”

Bad things happened when I disobeyed his command. Lives changed irrevocably. Broken promises. No one else would suffer because of my selfish mistake. Protect the pack at all costs.

Father clasped my face, lifting my gaze to his, the warmth of his palm comforting, backed with the hint of duty. “I know you don’t like this. You empathize with the female, and rightly so. Know that I’m doing everything in my power to get you out of this arrangement.”

Real talk, the first we had on this topic. Avoidance was his game the previous times it arose. And here I thought he abided by the pact.

Dark storm clouds brewed in his heavy stare responding to the stark, bitter gray in mine. “What are your plans?”

At two hundred strong, TJ’s enormous pack far outnumbered us to wage any kind of contest against him unless we united with Pack Lumbry. Been there, tried that, and it fell apart, leaving me brokenhearted and angry.

Father lovingly caressed my cheek the way he did when I was younger and hadn’t found my confidence yet. “Renegotiating terms.”

I scoff-laughed, and his mouth hardened. “TJ will never approve that.”

Father’s hand snapped back into a fist. “He will if I find the right price.”

Right price. Laughable when I was the treasure. A rare female Alpha. Priceless like the most expensive jewel. Bragging rights with other packs. A sexual treat offered to win over other Alphas to build alliances. Love wouldn’t be part of our bargain.

Father’s hand unfurled and came back to cup my cheek. “Promising to marry someone isn’t the same as marrying them.”

I didn’t understand where he was going or have the energy to question him when my grief and his dominance wore me down.

His hand dropped from my cheek. “Send the female back with a request to meet with TJ.”

In my world, the Umbra’s word was law, and I obeyed it. The last time I didn’t, someone almost died. A chance I’d never take again.