Despite having been rejected by her first mate for not having a wolf and bullied by her pack, Aiofe isn't backing down. Greed and jealousy fuels the decision to send her to war to die in battle but there she finds herself, her past & her consolation from the moon goddess. What path will Aoife carve for herself?
Chapter 1 I: Hidden Strength
The sun hung low over the training grounds, casting a warm golden glow that painted everything in shades of amber. My muscles were taut with anticipation as I stood across from Zeke, the cool breeze teasing strands of my dark hair.
"You ready?" he asked, his tone light, but his green eyes held a challenge.
I nodded, my hands clenching and unclenching as I tried to calm the storm of nerves inside me. "Always."
Zeke smirked, a confident glint in his gaze. His stance was relaxed, but I knew better than to underestimate him. He was a force to be reckoned with-faster, stronger, and smarter than most of the pack's warriors. Training with him was equal parts exhilarating and grueling, a test of everything I'd taught myself in secret.
He moved first, a blur of motion that had my instincts flaring. I barely dodged his punch, the force of his swing ruffling my hair as I ducked. My feet shifted, finding purchase on the dirt as I pivoted out of his reach.
"Not bad," he said, resetting his stance. His smirk deepened. "But don't just dance around me. Fight me."
Fight him. My pulse quickened as I stared him down. The words echoed in my mind, a silent mantra urging me to let go, to show him what I was capable of.
Zeke lunged again, his movements sharp and precise. I blocked his strikes as best I could, my arms aching with each impact. My body moved on autopilot, weaving and dodging, until finally, an opening appeared.
Without thinking, I stepped into his space, deflecting his punch with a sharp motion that reverberated through my bones. My other hand shot out, aiming for his ribs. He blocked me, barely, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Where did that come from?" he asked, a laugh breaking through his heavy breathing.
I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "You're not the only one who knows how to fight."
For a moment, the air between us shifted. There was pride in his gaze, a flicker of approval that warmed something deep inside me.
But he didn't let me bask in the moment. He came at me again, faster this time, his strength forcing me to adapt. My muscles burned as I pushed myself to keep up, dodging, blocking, countering.
And then he caught me.
With a sharp twist, Zeke slammed me against the trunk of a tree. The bark bit into my back as his weight pressed against me, his arms pinning me in place.
"Got you," he said, his voice low, triumphant.
Our faces were close, too close, and for a split second, the world seemed to still. His breath fanned against my cheek, warm and steady, and something unspoken passed between us.
But I wasn't done yet.
"Not quite," I said, and with a surge of effort, I twisted free, flipping over his shoulder in one smooth motion. I landed behind him, my feet steady on the ground. Before he could react, I swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.
I was on him in an instant, pinning him with my knee pressed to his chest. His green eyes stared up at me, wide with shock and... was that admiration?
"Alright," he said finally, laughing breathlessly. "Where the hell have you been hiding that? This is the Aoife I know."
I rolled off him, offering him a hand. "You're not the only one who's been training."
He grinned as he took my hand, pulling himself to his feet. "Don't think I'm going to go easy on you next time."
I smiled, pride blooming in my chest. Training with Zeke was more than just a way to grow stronger. It was a reminder that I was more than the unwanted girl they saw me as.
"We've got to get back to your place before Fiona starts to shriek." said Zeke as he caught his breath. I rolled my eyes at that thought. He was right. I have to get back before anyone realises I wasn't at the clinic. Tara can't cover for me for so long.
---
The walk back to the clinic was quiet, the evening air cool against my heated skin. Zeke waved to me as he took off in the opposite direction to meet up with his other plans. Tara greeted me with a knowing smile when I slipped inside, her weathered hands busy with a bundle of herbs.
"Rough day?" she asked, her tone teasing.
"Something like that," I replied, grabbing a cloth to wipe the sweat from my face.
Tara was the only person in the pack, aside from Zeke, who truly cared about me. She had been my anchor since the day I wandered into her clinic at six years old, lost and alone.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," she said, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied me.
"I have to," I said quietly. "The Academy won't take me if I'm not the best."
Her expression softened, and she reached out to squeeze my hand. "You'll make it, Aoife. I believe in you."
Her words meant everything to me. The Healers Academy was my escape plan, my one chance to leave the Nightshade Pack behind and start over.
But as I left the clinic and made my way back to the pack house, the weight of my reality settled over me.
---
The Beta family's home was quiet when I slipped inside, careful not to draw attention to myself. I made it to my room without incident, but my peace didn't last long.
The door burst open, and Niamh strode in, her expression twisted with disdain.
"You reek of sweat," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I need you to get wine for my mother's guests. Take a damn shower first, don't spoil the mood."
I sighed but didn't argue. Defiance only made things worse.
I took a quick shower and co-washed my hair so it doesn't smell. My luscious red hair has always been a comfort to me. Soft, cascading waterfall waves that bounces with movement and shines in the sun. I quickly style it in two braids and wraps them as space buns. I wear my glasses to complete the nerd look as I try to downplay my features as much as possible.
I'm a stunner, which is well known. One of Niamh's points for hating me. Tara, Zeke and I agreed that I have to deliberately dress down my looks to avoid undue and unwanted attention towards myself. So, I wear glasses and colour contacts to hide my emerald green eyes.
The kitchen was empty as I grabbed the key to the cellar. My steps were slow, deliberate, as I descended into the cool, dimly lit space. The familiar scent of oak and aged wine filled my senses, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
For a moment, the cellar was my sanctuary. But that moment was short-lived.
I could sense someone behind me but I knew it was probably Niamh or one of her lackeys trying to lock me in again. I smiled as that would be a perfect time to get some rest from my sparring session.
As I unlock the door, I start the countdown in my head.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1..
SLAM!!!
The sound of the door slamming shut echoed around me, and I turned just in time to hear the bolt slide into place.
"So typical of you, Niamh," I muttered, a wry smile tugging at my lips. She had locked me in again.
Part of me wanted to shout, to call for help, but what was the point? They wouldn't come for me, not unless it suited them.
So I settled in, leaning against a rack of wine bottles and letting my head rest against the cool wood. I let in the darkness and drew strength from it, letting my frustration ebb away. I couldn't afford to lose focus. One day, I would escape this place. I would prove them all wrong.
This was my life-a constant battle for dignity, for survival, in a pack that saw me as nothing more than a burden.
But I wasn't giving up.
Not yet.
---
Nearly 30 minutes gone now as I sit in the cellar. I've stretched out my body and picked out Fiona's favourite wine. Soon, the sound of footsteps echoes above me. My ears prick as I sense someone descending the stairs. Although I don't have enhanced abilities as I don't have a wolf, my senses have been trained so well that it is pretty much above the normal senses of a human being.
My body tensed, instinctively pressing closer to the wine rack as the door creaked open.
For a split second, panic flared in my chest. I expected to see Niamh or, worse, Fiona, ready to berate me for some imagined slight.