POV: Francesca
The carriage rattled like it was being chased by death itself, wheels hammering against the rutted forest road, lanterns swinging wildly at the corners. Each jolt sent a fresh wave of nausea through me. I sat on the narrow bench, my gloved hands clenched in my lap, my back straight only because I was afraid that if I bent, I might shatter completely.
The velvet cushions, once a deep royal blue, were worn thin with age. They were finer than anything my family owned now, yet they felt like shackles. Across from me lay a leather-bound chest stamped with the king’s seal, as if to remind me that I had already been claimed.
I wore a plain traveling gown of brown wool, mended so many times that the seams looked like scars. No jewels. No crest. Nothing that marked me as the daughter of a noble house—what little nobility remained to us had been sold piece by piece, until only my name was left. And tonight, even that had been traded away.
My reflection stared back at me from the darkened glass of the carriage window. Pale skin. Hollowed cheeks. Eyes too large for my face, shining with unshed tears. I barely recognized myself.
No one would miss me.
I had been an outcast long before my father decided to sell me. Too quiet and too strange. A she-wolf who never felt her wolf stir properly, who inspired no interest, no alliances, no advantage. In a world where daughters were currency, I had always been a poor investment.
My father’s voice echoed in my head, sharp and cold, as if he were still standing over me in the hall of our crumbling estate.
“Be grateful,” he had said. “The king himself wants you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the words carved deeper all the same.
My father sold me to King Cassian as a slave. To pay off his debts.
The carriage lurched again, faster now, the driver urging the horses on as the forest thickened around us. Towering pines pressed close to the road, their branches clawing at the sky. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds, and the air smelled of rain and wet earth.
King Cassian. The name alone was enough to make my stomach twist.
Everyone knew the stories. How he had seized the throne years ago, and the true Lycan Prince had vanished without a trace. How those who questioned Cassian’s rule were dragged away and never seen again. His servants whispered of bruises and screams behind palace doors.
I had heard enough to know what awaited me.
I pressed my forehead against the glass, my breath fogging the surface. The forest blurred past, dark and endless.
If I stayed in this carriage, my life would end before it truly began.
Something inside me hardened then, a quiet, desperate resolve rising through the fear. I had been obedient all my life. Silent and accepting. And it had brought me here—wrapped in wool and sold like livestock.
No! Without giving myself time to think, I surged to my feet. My fingers closed around the brass handle of the carriage door.
The driver shouted in alarm, his voice muffled through the walls.
“Miss! What are you—”
I yanked the door open. Cold air and rain slammed into me. The road rushed past in a blur of mud and stone. For one terrifying heartbeat, I hesitated, staring into the darkness beyond the wheels.
Then I jumped. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. Pain exploded through my shoulder and hip as I hit the ground and rolled, my body tumbling helplessly down a muddy slope.
Branches tore at my skin. Stones bruised my ribs. The world spun until I could no longer tell the sky from earth.
When I finally came to a stop, I lay gasping, my chest burning, rain pelting my face like icy needles.
The carriage thundered above me. I heard the driver scream for the horses, the frantic snap of reins—but they did not stop. The sound faded quickly, swallowed by the storm and the forest.
I laughed weakly, the sound breaking into a sob. I’m not down without a fight! My father owes a great deal of money, but I refuse to be a bargaining chip.
It took everything I had to push myself upright. My dress was ruined, soaked through and caked with mud. My palms stung where the skin had been scraped raw. One ankle screamed in protest when I tried to put weight on it, but it held.
I shrugged my thin sheepskin coat tighter around my shoulders, the worn lining doing little to keep out the cold. Rain poured harder now, soaking my hair until it clung to my face and neck. Each step sent a fresh jolt of pain through my body, yet I forced myself deeper into the forest, away from the road, away from the life that had been chosen for me.
“If I don’t find shelter, I’ll freeze to death,” I muttered, my teeth already beginning to chatter.
The thought should have frightened me more than it did. Death, at least, would be mine.
A long, mournful sound rose through the rain. I froze.
Another howl answered it, closer this time, the sound cutting through the storm with terrifying clarity. Wolves.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I spun in a slow circle, peering through the shadows between the trees. The forest seemed to close in, every rustle suddenly suspicious.
Are they chasing me? Had Cassian’s men already sent hounds after me?
My breath came fast and shallow. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself—and gasped.
A thin red thread lay coiled around my wrist.
I stared at it, convinced for a moment that fear had finally driven me mad. Slowly, trembling, I reached out and touched it with my other hand.
Warmth spread beneath my fingers. Not imagined. Not fading. The thread pulsed gently, like a living thing, each throb echoing in my veins.
It stretched away from me, slipping between the trees, glowing faintly against the darkness.
“What… is this?” I whispered.
The thread tugged, just slightly, insistent rather than forceful. A strange calm settled over me, easing the panic in my chest. Wherever it led, it felt… certain. As if it had been waiting for me all along.
The howls sounded again, closer now.
I swallowed, lifting my gaze toward the forest path the thread marked. My heart hammered with fear, but beneath it stirred something else—curiosity, hope, a pull I could not explain.
I tightened my grip on my coat and took a limping step forward. Then another.
Captivated and trembling, I followed the thread into the depths of the forest, unaware that with each step, I was walking toward a fate far more dangerous—and far more powerful—than the one I had just escaped.