PEARL'S POV

The night air bites at my skin like icy fingers as I sprint, barefoot, into the woods that consume the Pandara Kingdom, like a beast that only spits you out when you're nothing but bones. My breath comes in ragged gasps that taste metallic. Every time my heel slams into a hidden stone, a fresh cut opens, but the pain hardly matters because discomfort has become an old friend, an almost comforting reminder that I'm still alive.

I duck under low-hanging branches that whip against my cheek, scratching my skin raw. Bits of leaves and dirt cling to the blood on my arms and legs. I must look like a half-dead creature crawling through the underbrush; maybe that's what I am.

My feet remember the paths better than my mind does; the same woods where my father used to threaten me, saying, "Run, Pearl, if you want. The forest will eat you before you've taken ten steps." Maybe he was right. Maybe it will. But I'd rather be swallowed by the trees than watch those stone walls close in on me again.

The wind howls through the branches above, whispering things my mother used to say: "You are not weak, my Star." You are strong. You represent the impending storm they are unaware of.

She'd say that while she brushed my hair beside the fireplace, her rough hands were so gentle they made my eyes sting. She was the only barrier between me and them: my father, my sister, and the Elders who believed a wolf like me was a waste of bloodline.

And they hated her for it. They wanted her gone so they could do whatever they wanted with me. They framed her, spreading filthy rumors-saying she was sleeping with rogues outside the pack borders, that she poisoned the old Beta's wine, and that she cursed our bloodline to give birth to weaklings like me.

When they came for her, I screamed and screamed, but Mom didn't. It was like she expected it. She didn't even beg; she just looked at me through the flames and whispered, "Run."

The chill of the present jolts me back. The slap of wet leaves on my chin, the sting of a fresh scratch across my collarbone, the dull ache in my knees from when I fell trying to scale the outer wall-it all keeps me moving, reminding me I'm not dead yet.

Then, I think of Bisca...

A sob escapes my chest before I can swallow it. It tears through my ribs, raw and ugly. I stumble, catch myself against the trunk of an old oak, and suck in the icy air until my lungs burn.

I shut my eyes and see her face. Bisca is the only person who has never called me worthless. She was the one who pushed Kaela aside when she cornered me in the kitchen or sneaked me an extra piece of meat when she thought no one was watching.

This morning, in the laundry room, with steam swirling around us like a secret, I gripped her hand so tightly my knuckles turned white. I shared my plan, my voice trembling but determined: I'm leaving, Bisca. I'm going to Vartun Kingdom. I'll hide there, maybe even try for the Alpha King's mate ceremony.

She looked at me as if I'd grown claws. "Pearl, do you know what they say about the Vartun Alpha? No woman survives a night with him. You're insane."

Better insane than dead here, I shot back. I almost laughed; it felt freeing to voice it.

"Don't tell anyone," I whispered. "Promise me."

She swallowed hard, the sound echoing in the quiet room, then squeezed my hand back.

"I promise."

I wanted to believe her. I needed to. Without Bisca, I wouldn't have anyone-not my father, who had long abandoned that title, and not my half-sister Kaela, who despised me for reasons I couldn't even grasp.

The wind shifts behind me, freezing me in place. Crack! I hear branches snap. Crunch, crunch-heavy footsteps, twisting my stomach.

She told them. Bisca betrayed me, and they're here.

Tears slide down my cheeks, warm at first, then icy as the wind chills them on my skin. I bite my knuckles to stop the sob threatening to escape. I want to scream, to tear this forest apart with my bare hands, and to shake Bisca until her lies spill out.

But for now, I have to run.

I push off the tree, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up my shoulder from when I slammed into a wall last week after Kaela shoved me aside in the corridor. She had hissed, "Get out of my way, worm."

As I run, the deeper woods close in around me. My breath forms little clouds that drift back into the darkness, maybe carrying my scent to the hunting wolves behind me. "There's no mercy once a wolf betrays the pack," the Elders always said. There is no trial, only instant execution by burning at the stake.

The cold seeps through my tattered dress, a once-white silk that belonged to Kaela, now gray with sweat, dirt, and old tears. Mother would cover it for me in secret, so I'd have a cozy spot to sleep, showing me love that Kaela resented. It wasn't like my mother loved her any less; until that fateful night, our family had been loving.

The shattered home forever transformed Kaela and her father.

The trees suddenly cleared, spitting me out into the familiar old orchard-the place Mother took me when my father's rage turned our house into a tomb. I'd hide under the old pear tree while she sang lullabies I wasn't supposed to know.

Now, gasping for breath, I stop and search for that tree in the moonlit darkness. There it is! Its branches twitching like bony fingers reaching for the stars, half-rotted. I fall to my knees at its roots, pressing my forehead against the rough bark.

"Mother. I'm trying. I'm so sorry I didn't run when you told me to. I'm so sorry I let them kill you."

Snap!-the sharp crack of a branch shatters the silence. A low voice follows, issuing orders I don't recognize. I force myself to my feet. If I stay, they'll find me in seconds.

My heart pounds so loudly it drowns out the wind, the voices, and even the roaring in my head as I slip around the old trunk. My feet instinctively navigate the marshy patch, soaking the hem of my dress in icy water, down the slope behind the orchard.

I reach the stone fence marking the edge of the kingdom's farmland. Beyond it is a narrow path leading to the old trade road. If I can just reach the bordering river, I can follow it to Vartun. They say the Alpha King is a monster; no mate can survive his touch. "Great!" Maybe he'll kill me quickly. Or who knows, maybe I'll get to experience what it's like to be free from my chains.

A howl slices through the night, closer this time-hungry and vicious. I trip over the fence, landing hard on my knees. Blood wells up beneath my fingernails as my palms crash into the gravel. I pull myself back up.

"Run, little Star." Once again, I hear my mother's gentle yet strong voice. I ignore the stinging pain in my legs and push forward.

I see the road. The road is merely a narrow stretch of dirt, yet it symbolizes liberation for me; it's expansive enough to encompass my past, provided I can maintain sufficient distance between us.

I burst into the open, my breath tearing at my throat. I think I can make it.

Then an arrow whistles through the air, striking the ground just inches from my foot. Ahead, another one slams into a tree, making me spin around. The clearing glows with torchlight, shadows moving in a slow circle, closing in on me.

The captain steps out from behind a thorn bush, a smug smile twisting his lips. The scar across his brow glistens in the torchlight. He'd sneered at me when he saw me sweeping the kitchen floors. "Alpha's daughter, are you?"

"Look at you, better off as a mutt."

He raises his hand, signaling the hunters behind him to stop.

"Going somewhere, Pearl?"

I take a breath so sharp it cuts my lungs. My fingers clench into fists.

"I refuse to go back!"

He chuckles, low and cruel. "Oh, you are. This time, they'll make sure you don't forget your place. Maybe your father will even hang you himself. Save us the trouble."

I glance past him. The path is still there, just a few yards away; as the wind shifts, I briefly recall Bisca's laughter: sweet, gentle, and as sharp as a blade.

"Did you laugh with them when you told them where I'd run? Did you whisper it in Kaela's ear while she called you sister and combed your hair?"

My mouth fills with a taste I can't define: grief, rage, betrayal. Everything.

And then I run again.

I don't remember the blow. One moment, I'm sprinting for the shadows; the next, I'm slammed onto the ground, my cheek scraping the dirt, my ribs screaming. A boot presses into my back. I gasp, feeling his sour breath against my ear as the captain leans over me.

With a voice that's almost gentle, he says, "Stupid little mutt. Should've stayed in your cage."

I choke on a sob, but this time it's anger and betrayal rather than fear. The taste of freedom brings me brief ecstasy.

They drag me back through the clearing, and the forest closes around me like a coffin.

Above, the stars blur as tears spill over my lashes. My mother's face swims behind them, her eyes shining even as flames lick her skin.

"One day, little Star. One day, you'll run far enough that they can't find you."

I let the darkness swallow me, but deep in my chest, something stubborn flickers-a spark that refuses to die, no matter how many chains they fasten around my throat.

One day, I'll run again.

And the next time, they won't catch me.

PEARL'S POV

The first thing that hit me when I woke up was the smell: stale urine mixed with damp stone and something rotten lurking in the corners. My eyes flicker in the shadows, and I realize I'm chained up just high enough that my shoulders ache from holding my weight. The iron cuffs are biting into my wrists, cold and heavy, while the rough shackles on my ankles add to the discomfort.

Above me, there's a drip echoing like water seeping through a rock, or maybe it's just my mind slowly emptying.

Pain throbs behind my eyes, dull and nauseating. I can taste old blood in my mouth. A part of me wishes I had just stayed asleep, dead even, but that's just not my luck. I always wake up.

I wiggle my arms, testing the chains, which scrape against my skin like iron. My breath fogs the air in front of my lips. I shut my eyes for a moment and see him again-the boy who was meant to be my mate, but he mocked my heart and chose my half-sister as his mate inside of me, which was three nights ago.

The room was packed with wolves from all over Pandara, excitedly snarling, laughing, and snapping their teeth. The Mating Ceremony is the night when bonds are made-or broken-in front of everyone who matters.

I stood at the edge of the dais, head down. The hem of my borrowed silk dress was torn. Kaela, in a crimson lace so sheer it glimmered like blood, stood beside me, glowing in the torchlight.

Then, they called his name: Aleric, son of Beta Janos. He was strong and broad-shouldered, with golden eyes that slid over me like I was just a stain on his boots. Even though the old seer had hinted that he wouldn't choose me anymore, I still held onto a secret hope that he would honor the longstanding agreement that I would be his mate someday.

I wanted to believe that if he chose me, I'd be with someone who wouldn't look down on me, and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to endure these endless humiliations.

When the drums stopped, a hush fell over the hall. He stepped forward and looked at me intently, just as we had when we were puppies chasing fireflies in the orchard. Back then, he'd smile and share stolen pears with me behind the old fence.

But just like that, his gaze shifted to Kaela, and he beamed at her even wider.

Then, he spat at my feet.

"You?" he laughed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "You think I'd tie myself to that?"

A wave of cruel laughter rippled through the crowd, hitting my skin like boiling oil.

I tried to speak; my mouth opened, but my tongue felt like stone.

Aleric stepped closer, brushing my cheek with his fingers like he was wiping dirt off his knife. I could see Kaela behind him, hiding her smile behind her hand, pretending to be shocked.

"You're not worth the dirt under my claws, Pearl. Kaela is powerful. I'll have sons with her who won't crawl like you."

He turned and lifted Kaela's hand high for everyone to see. The pack roared their approval, and the sound rang in my ears like the last remnants of my shattered dreams burning to ash.

I remember Kaela leaning in close, her lips brushing against his ear while her eyes darted to me-bright, cruel, and victorious.

That night, I lay awake in the corner of the servants' hall, staring up at the black beams overhead as Kaela and Aleric celebrated somewhere deep in the Alpha's wing. Their laughter echoed through the empty corridors like knives scraping against bone.

I didn't sleep. I didn't cry. I just lay there, counting my breaths as I stared at the rotten beam above me.

By dawn, I knew what I had to do.

I couldn't stay here... I had to escape before Kaela decided I was too filthy to breathe her air or just a ghost crawling on the floor.

If I ran, I might die, starve in the wild, or freeze by the river. Maybe, just maybe-I'd make it to Vartun. They say the Alpha King is a beast, and no woman who enters his chambers ever comes out the same or alive. Our entire pack never sets foot in his territory.

But I would rather face death at the hands of a monster than rot under Kaela's heel.

The memory tears through me like claws as I hang here now, chained up, blood dried on my lip, and my wrists rubbed raw. I almost laugh, but it would come out as a sob, so I swallow it down.

Kaela, this is what you wanted. A spectacle. A lesson. The aim is to instill a sense of self-awareness in everyone and inspire a girl to humble herself.

But I'm not defeated yet.

With a moan, the cell door creaks open. Harsh golden light spills in. I blink against it. Aleric stands there, his eyes filled with the same disdain that stung me three nights ago, while Kaela glides in like a velvet-draped wraith, her new partner following closely behind.

She approaches me, her skirts brushing the floor, crouching down to make sure we're eye-to-eye-just to make me feel small.

"You should see yourself," she purrs. "So pitiful." "Did you think you'd be chosen over me?"

With a low, sarcastic laugh, Aleric drapes his arm over her shoulders as if she's already fulfilled all his desires.

Maybe she has.

Kaela leans in, her voice dripping with venom. "You owe me your gratitude, little sister. If you'd left, Vartun's king would've devoured you before you even learned to beg."

My skin splits and stings, and I curl my lip. "Better his fangs than your lies."

She freezes for a moment, then her smile returns, brighter than ever. "Tomorrow, you'll burn where Mother burned. And I'll wear white silk while they scatter your ashes."

Behind her, Aleric chuckles, a sound that curdles my blood.

"Sweet dreams, worthless thing," Kaela whispers, her perfume choking the stale air one last time. Then, the cell door slams shut, stealing the light before the iron bolts engulf it.

A few moments later...

It's darker than before, but I sense the presence of another person; heavy boots shuffle in the stillness, and for a brief second, I'm convinced Aleric is returning to hurl another insult before my bones freeze.

But the steps stop at the jingling metal keys just outside the bars, and when I look up, a faint lantern flickers, casting gold over the scarred face of a man I vaguely remember from my childhood, back when I was still too small to matter. His shoulders slump as if the chains around my wrists weigh him down too.

For the first time, I'm not referred to as a slave or a thing or a useless one, as he whispers my name, "Pearl."

I blink at him, the torchlight blinding me. I want to speak, but the words just won't come.

He kneels by the bars, trembling as he grips the iron ring of keys. "I knew your mother. Saria. She once hid my family when the old Alpha was hunting down rebels. She fed my boy when there was no bread left for herself."

He gasps, half in sorrow, half in regret. "I should've done something sooner. I'm sorry."

He nods toward my cuffs. "Hurry. Take these off. When you're free, put this cloak on."

He tosses me a bundle of rough cloth-a prison guard's cloak, too big for my frame but thick enough to conceal the blood and chains.

My lips tremble. I want to say thank you. Why now? What about you?

But all I manage to say is, "How do I get out?"

He speaks in a trembling whisper, like a dying flame: "There's an old drain tunnel under the orchard wall. Don't turn; just crawl straight. You'll know you're close when you see the roots above. Don't stop."

He rises, heavy with regret, and disappears down the hall without waiting for thanks-perhaps he knows I don't have any left to give.

I don't waste another breath. My fingers slip the key into the left shackle; it clicks open with a sigh that sounds like freedom.

The metal scrapes against my raw skin, tearing it wider, but pain is the price of freedom. I encounter one shackle after another. They cling to the stone like the last heartbeat of my cage.

I wrap the guard's cloak tightly around me. It smells of old sweat and stale oil, but at least it's better than Aleric's mockery or Kaela's sweet poison.

I slip through the half-hidden crack, my shoulders scraping against stone, cold wind biting at my torn wrists; the drain tunnel engulfs me, frost prickling my ankles, roots scratching my scalp, one foot in front of the other.

As I press my forehead against the wet stone at the mouth beneath the orchard wall, I let go of the last of my fear.

I pull the cloak tighter around me, ready to bolt into the orchard's quiet embrace, but something freezes my pulse.

Torchlight flickers beyond the courtyard stones above. A lithe figure passes through the golden spill, with delicate shoulders, perfectly brushed hair, and that silver chain glinting at her wrist.

Bisca.

I barely manage to catch my breath before biting my tongue to keep silent.

She pauses, tilting her head just enough that her silhouette cuts through the torchlight.

"Is she looking for me?"

"Did she come to check if I'm still chained, helpless, waiting for the mercy of morning?"

Or did she come because some corner of her heart still remembers orchard trees and whispered promises in the dark?

I tuck my fingers into the folds of the cloak tightly. I'm certain she can hear the loud thump of my heartbeat.

Bisca lingers, her face turned toward the dungeon door as the torch flickers again, taking a step closer, and then another.

I can't see her eyes or her smile, but I know if she opens that cell door now and finds nothing but cold shackles and my blood staining the stones, the alarm will echo through Pandara before I even reach the path to the dark river.

She pauses-so close I swear I can feel her warmth through the wall.

Is she coming in?

I cover my mouth with my palm to smother the sob that's pushing up my throat, hoping the stillness of the courtyard holds its breath above me.

"Did Bisca notice the open lock? Did she hear the chain slip? Did she feel my shadow brushing past hers?"

My only prayer: "Don't open that door. Don't see. Don't betray me twice."

The silence above cracks; a hinge creaks.

A lantern hisses.

"Is she opening the cell?"

My heart is screaming in my head. Now or never, I ready myself to flee.

In the dark beneath Pandara's orchard, I wait, breath held between freedom and a blade.

PEARL'S POV

I spot Bisca's shadow shifting, her boots whispering against the gravel in the courtyard.

She's about to open it.

A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, even though my skin feels frozen. I slide my fingers under the guard's cloak, gripping the key he put in my palm moments ago; it feels cold now. Everything feels cold.

The orchard will erupt with hunting horns long before my feet touch the river, and if Bisca catches sight of the blood on the bracket and the empty shackles, she'll either call Aleric or scream for Kaela.

For a moment, I think about crawling back and hiding my raw wrists in iron, giving in to the chain, because I'd rather be chained than shot by Aleric's arrows or even remain broken instead of turning to ashes by sunrise.

Then I remember her voice whispering in me like poisoned wine. "Pearl, I'll always stand by you." Behind that door, Kaela listened intently as she whispered orchard secrets near my ear. Her soft hands brushed my hair while she counted my bruises, which she would later share with Kaela, turning my weakness into gossip for her gain.

Stupid, I hiss at myself. Blind. I let her braid my hair before the mating ceremony, wrap me in ribbons, and feed me the hope that Aleric would choose me, that someone, anyone, might see beyond the dirt they threw on my name.

Now, I can see it from my cell, tucked beneath the orchard wall, while Bisca's boots pause above me. I see her tilt her head, her hair perfectly groomed, while mine reeks of the stables. "Don't worry," she'd say. "When he sees you, he'll know you're special. He'll see you're the real Luna."

Lies. I remember the twist of her mouth when she pulled the ribbon tight enough to choke me. I can see the sparkle in Kaela's eyes when Bisca shared my foolish daydreams with her.

In the hallway outside the banquet, I watched them laugh together, and Bisca leaned in close to my sister as if they'd both been betrayed by the same person.

A sound that could be either a snarl or a sob clamps down on my throat. The hinge above me groans again. Is it open or closed? Has she realized the cuffs are empty? She might have slipped in to check the stone corner where my hope died.

Inside, I growl, No more chains and no more sweet poison.

With my knees scraping against the tunnel roots and my palms burning from the frost, I push forward.

Whether she discovers it or not, I won't give in now.

At the mouth of the tunnel, the raw wind bites my skin. I climb as Frost cracks the stones in the far corner.

Blood drips from my torn wrists and seeps through the guard's borrowed cloak as I scramble towards the opening.

Halfway up, my forehead slams into a cold stone, and my mother's words echo in my mind:

"Run so far, they can't drag you back," pierced the ice.

Bisca's ghost chuckles: "Too late."

As I swing my leg over at the top, my cloak catches on a rusty nail, and roots scratch my calf before I tumble to the other side. My hands sink into frost-burned moss while my knees hit the frozen ground hard. It tears away from me as I land.

Then I hear footsteps behind me, followed by a voice that sends a chill through my bones. "Pearl," Aleric says, his tone as welcoming as grave soil, and steel slides free from its sheath. "Keep running," Kaela urges. "The dogs want a taste of you."

My ribs crack like old ice as I push myself up.

Flashback: Gullible Pearl

That night, under the white blossom tree in the orchard, with Bisca's head resting on my lap and the stars seeming to whisper above, it all floods back.

"Promise me you'll never leave me alone here, Bisca." She patiently braided my hair, her fingers cool against my scalp.

"Never. I'd die before I betrayed you, Pearl. You're my family, too."

I believed her, like a starving pup licking the hand that feeds it poison.

When Kaela's punishments started seeping under my skin, and the whip cut into my back for the first time, Bisca was there at the foot of my bed, her hands cold on my fevered brow and worry in her eyes.

"If only you'd listen better, Pearl. Then Kaela wouldn't have to be so harsh."

I allowed that rot to envelop me like a cozy blanket. I was fooled into thinking my secrets and hers were safe. I shared every bruise and dream with her, and she handed them back with a smile-Kaela's smile.

Now I see it clearly, like Aleric's arrow being pulled back behind me.

I should've picked up on it, but I was so desperate for voices that didn't spit poison and hands that didn't strike.

The edge of the orchard, the mist of the black river curling like ghostly fingers, and the border stones are so close I can taste the iron of Vartun's woods as the frost cracks under my boots.

My palms sink into the cold muck as I stumble and fall to my knees again.

Aleric's voice gets closer, and it makes me feel sick.

"Pearl!" His bow creaks; the string is a promise of death.

I can't look back. Blood trails down my wrists like a broken promise, and muck covers my fingers as I crawl ahead.

I throw myself to the left; behind me, the arrow slams into the tree, narrowly missing my ear. Pain blooms behind my eyes, bright and exhilarating, and I crash into frozen reeds.

"I'm alive! I'm still alive."

The ancient granite, covered in moss and engraved with Vartun's wolf crest, looms as I struggle on. My knees burn raw against the ground, and my cloak drags through the mud.

Aleric's footsteps shatter the stillness behind me, and his growl shakes the trees:

"You're mine, Pearl. Run, crawl; it won't matter!"

The black river coughs mist as I drag my ribs over the first stone. The hiss of the arrow slices through the silence, indicating that it is getting closer-too close-

I move on. In the muck where my throat should've bled, the arrow buries itself.

I let out a ragged breath that might be a laugh. I give it one last push. My stomach rubs against granite; my lips sting from the frost. I'm crossing over.

At the edge of Vartun, the hounds from the orchard are choking, and I can feel Pandara's silence fading behind me.

Aleric's shout echoes through the trees, but he's forced to stop. The rules of Vartun demand blood from those who trespass. These stones are beyond Kaela's reach.

I feel dizzy.

[Pearl collapses].

Mud swallows my face, and frost nips at my ears. It's the black lullaby of the river.

"I'm out! I'm finally free."

A shadow blocks the moon, broad shoulders and fur-lined leather; the wolf beside him perks up and opens its yellow eyes like twin lanterns.

He kneels, and for the first time in ages, I feel the warmth of a living creature.

His gloved hand gently brushes the frost from my temple.

His breath, tasting of winter and iron, lingers in my ear.

"Not dead yet, are you, little stray?" His voice carries the weight of old woods and quiet wildness. "Good."

As the wolf sniffs at the blood on my wrists, its muzzle dips, and steam rises from its nostrils. It exposes its fangs, not towards me, but towards the shadows lurking behind me.

I swear I can hear the orchard sigh somewhere, Kaela's scream muffled by trees that will never care for her.

The man's rough, bark-calloused fingers lift my chin. He tilts my face toward the moon. I can see his eyes; they're alive but just as cold as the river.

"He murmurs, 'Looks like Pandara lost something precious tonight.'" His smile is more menacing than soothing.

"Or maybe it finally spit out what it couldn't kill."

I wish I could ask, "Who are you?"

But before I can speak, the silence slips down my throat.

The last thing I see is his grin, sharp like fresh bone, and the wolf's eyes darting back toward the orchard.

"Sleep, stray," he whispers. "You're ours now."

And just like that, the orchard crumbles behind me like a dream I no longer belong to as the darkness wraps around me.