Alexander witnessed with his own eyes how Felix, the Alpha of the Blackclaw Pack, killed his parents. Swearing vengeance, he never forgot the little girl from the pack who had once saved him. When he finally overthrew the tyrant and seized power, he unleashed all his hatred on Melodie, Felix’s illegitimate daughter. Yet, only as she lay dying in despair did he realize—she was the very girl who had rescued him long ago.
– Chains Shattered
“Move, girl!”
A rough hand yanked Melodie’s arm. The sack of onions split, bulbs rolling across the blood-slick tiles.
“I’m just a scullery maid!” she gasped, backing against the wall as silver-armored wolves stormed through the ruined gate.
“You’ve got Felix’s eyes,” the captain growled. “That’s enough.”
Shackles clicked around her wrists. Torchlight painted everything red as rebels dragged prisoners to the courtyard. Screams mixed with cheers.
At the center stood a man—broad-shouldered, scarred, calm as moonlight.
Alexander.
Melodie froze. It couldn’t be. Not the boy she fed through bars. Not him.
“Line them up,” the captain barked.
Alexander’s eyes swept the captives. His gaze landed on her and stopped.
Recognition flickered.
Then—
“Her. Dungeon.”
Melodie flinched. “Wait—Alexander, it’s me—”
“Take her.”
“Alexander!” Her voice cracked. “The flute—the bread—the song—”
He didn’t blink. “Until judgment,” he said coldly. “No exceptions.”
The guards dragged her away.
“You remember me,” she whispered as stone swallowed the light. “You have to.”
---
Chains clinked as she collapsed onto damp straw. The cell was narrow. Cold. Familiar.
The past bled through the dark: whispers, lullabies, a hand reaching blindly.
“I never left,” she murmured to no one.
A guard snorted. “Tell that to the Alpha. You’re just another rat in his trap.”
---
Outside, Alexander stood on the crumbled balcony, fingers curled around the rail.
“Who was that girl?” asked Beta Marcus.
“Felix’s bastard,” Alexander said without turning.
“Pretty. Dangerous. Want me to—?”
“No.” His voice was low. “Let her rot.”
---
In the cell, Melodie curled into herself.
He had looked straight at her. And still… nothing.
“I should’ve let you starve,” she muttered.
But the lie tasted bitter.
---
Flashbacks flickered behind her eyes—
“Are the stars really that far?”
“Farther than you can walk.”
“Will I ever see them?”
“I’ll bring you music to drown the screams.”
She touched her stomach. Empty. Still. But her heart beat defiant.
“Chains won’t keep me silent,” she whispered.
---
In the war room, the new Alpha’s council erupted in shouts.
“We’ve taken the keep—now what?”
Alexander didn’t answer. His fingers traced the edge of something in his pocket: an old, cracked reed flute.
“Burn the traitors,” someone shouted.
He stood. “Later. First we clean the dungeons.”
His voice was calm. But in his chest, something thrashed.
---
That night, Melodie sat against the wall, blood drying on her wrists.
She hummed softly, the tune wobbling but true.
Up above, Alexander jolted awake, heart pounding.
He knew that sound.
But the dream faded before he could hold it.
---
– Vengeance’s Lash
“Get up.”
A boot slammed into Melodie’s ribs.
She coughed, curling tighter. “Why?”
“Because the pack wants blood.”
Two guards dragged her out of the cell and into daylight. The courtyard stank of smoke and sweat. A post waited in the center—splintered, stained.
“Name?” a soldier barked.
“Melodie,” she said through cracked lips. “Scullery maid. Nothing more.”
“Felix’s eyes say otherwise.”
They tied her wrists to the post. A woman in the crowd shouted, “She watched while my village burned!”
“I didn’t—”
The first lash cut her off.
---
Up on the marble steps, Alexander stood motionless.
“She screams like her father’s victims did,” Marcus muttered beside him.
Alexander didn’t answer.
His eyes locked on her face—bloodied, bruised, familiar in a way that unsettled him.
“She’s tougher than the others,” Marcus noted. “Still hasn’t begged.”
“She won’t,” Alexander said quietly.
---
Lash after lash.
Melodie clenched her jaw. Pain blurred into rhythm. She counted the cracks in the wood. Thought of constellations she once described to a blind boy.
“I brought you food,” she whispered into the woodgrain. “I played so you could sleep.”
Another crack.
“You said you’d remember.”
---
That night, she lay trembling on the cell floor.
Her back burned. Her lips bled.
Still, she hummed the lullaby.
A guard passing by paused. “You’re insane.”
She smiled faintly. “Maybe.”
---
Meanwhile, Alexander paced his chambers.
He pulled out the flute.
Held it.
Listened.
A memory tugged—cold chains, warm bread, a voice in the dark.
“I can’t remember her face,” he murmured.
“Then forget her,” Marcus said behind him. “You have a kingdom to rebuild.”
Alexander looked down at the flute again.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
---
In the dungeon, Melodie pressed her palm to the floor.
“I won’t feed your hatred, Alexander,” she whispered.
“You’re not a monster. I know you’re not.”
---
Up above, he stared at the moon through glass.
Her eyes haunted him. Her silence. Her strength.
“Who are you?” he asked the stars.
The flute stayed in his palm all night.
---
– Echoes in the Dark
“Hey. Wake up.”
Melodie’s eyes fluttered open. A guard nudged her with his boot.
“You were humming again.”
“I wasn’t,” she rasped.
He snorted. “Well, someone’s playing ghost music. Boss wants it stopped.”
He kicked the straw by her side. “You hiding something?”
Melodie remained silent.
He grunted and walked off.
---
That night, once the dungeon fell silent, she sat up slowly.
Her fingers trembled as she unraveled broom bristles, weaving them into a makeshift whistle.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she whispered. “Just enough to stir a memory.”
She brought it to her lips and blew.
The soft notes floated upward, barely audible.
---
In the Alpha’s chambers, Alexander bolted upright.
He wasn’t dreaming.
That sound—raw, aching—cut through the stone like wind through pine.
“Who’s there?” he growled, reaching for his sword.
But the music faded.
---
Morning.
“Search the cells,” Alexander ordered.
“A flute?” Marcus frowned. “You think someone’s mocking you?”
“I think someone knows something,” he said tightly.
---
The guards returned dragging Melodie by the arms.
“This one had it.” They tossed the straw whistle at his feet.
Alexander picked it up. Examined it.
“Who gave this to you?” he asked.
Melodie raised her eyes. “No one. I made it.”
He hesitated. “Where did you hear the tune?”
“I don’t remember,” she said.
He stared. “You do. Tell me.”
“Why?” she said. “So you can throw me to the wolves again?”
His jaw clenched. “Take her back.”
---
“Do you believe her?” Marcus asked once they were alone.
Alexander didn’t reply. He turned the whistle in his hands.
His fingers found a faint scratch near the mouthpiece.
A mark?
A letter?
No.
A memory.
---
Later that night, Alexander stared at the ceiling.
Chains. Lullabies. A girl’s voice humming through cold.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He couldn't stop hearing it.
---
In her cell, Melodie curled into the straw, fingers still tingling.
He had held it. Touched the whistle.
It wasn’t enough. Not yet.
But something flickered.
---
“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself, “I’ll make another.”
---
