Fangs, Claws And Wings

I have been called many things in my life.

Runt. Worthless. Hollow.

But the one that hurt the most was the one said in silence. The look people gave me when they thought I wasn't watching. That slow, pitying shake of the head that said the same thing every single time.

She will never be anything.

My name is Seraphina Ashborne. Most people called me Sera. And for nineteen years, I had lived as the lowest thing in Thornmere's Bloodfang Pack. Not an omega. Not even that. Omegas at least had a wolf. They could shift, feel the moon pull at their bones, hear the pack bond hum in their blood.

I had none of that.

I was Hollow.

The morning started the way every morning did. Before the sun fully climbed the sky, I was already on my knees scrubbing the stone floors of the pack kitchen. The water was cold. It was always cold. My hands were cracked and raw from days of the same work but complaining meant punishment and punishment in the Bloodfang Pack was not a gentle thing.

"You missed a spot."

I did not look up. I already knew the voice. Mara. Third-ranked female in the pack. Beautiful in the way sharp things are beautiful. Dangerous.

"I'll get it," I said quietly.

"You'll get it faster if you stop daydreaming." She stepped over my bucket, not caring that it splashed dirty water across my knees. "The Alpha is coming today."

That made me pause.

I looked up slowly. "What?"

Mara smiled and it did not reach her eyes. "Alpha Ronan Greymane. He's doing his territory inspection. Which means this place needs to be perfect." She crouched down to my eye level and her voice dropped to something soft and cruel. "And you, little Hollow, need to be invisible. Do you understand me? If the Alpha sees you and asks questions, it reflects badly on all of us."

She stood before I could answer and walked away.

I turned back to the floor and scrubbed harder.

Alpha Ronan Greymane.

Everyone in Thornmere knew his name. Even the children whispered it with something between fear and worship. He had taken over the Bloodfang Pack at twenty-two after his father's death and in four years he had turned it into the most powerful pack in the eastern territories. Packs that once challenged Bloodfang now paid tribute. Alphas that once sneered at the Greymane name now bowed their heads.

He was not known for kindness.

He was known for results.

I finished the floor, dragged the bucket outside, and emptied it behind the kitchens. The morning air hit my face and for just a moment I closed my eyes and breathed. The forest beyond the pack grounds smelled like pine and damp earth and something wild I had never been able to name. Something that called to a part of me I didn't understand.

"Sera."

Old Bette. The pack's head cook. She was the only one who used my name without making it sound like an insult.

"He'll be here by midday," she said, handing me a bundle of fresh herbs. "Stay in the kitchens. Sort these. Don't come out until I tell you."

"Is he really that frightening?" I asked.

Bette looked at me for a long moment. Something moved behind her eyes. Something careful.

"He's an Alpha," she said simply. "And Alphas notice things other people miss."

She went back inside before I could ask what she meant.

I stayed on the step longer than I should have, turning her words over in my head. Alphas notice things other people miss.

What was that supposed to mean?

I shook it off and followed her in.

He arrived at midday exactly.

I heard the pack react before I saw anything. A ripple of energy moved through the building like a wave. Wolves stood straighter. Voices dropped. Even the air felt different, heavier somehow, charged.

I stayed in the kitchen like Bette told me to. I kept my head down and sorted herbs and told myself I did not care.

But then I heard his voice.

Deep. Quiet. The kind of quiet that was more commanding than shouting.

"Where is your western patrol report?"

Someone answered, stumbling over their words. A senior pack member, I realized. Someone who usually spoke to me like I was dirt under his boot was now tripping over himself to answer one question.

I pressed closer to the kitchen door. I know. I know I shouldn't have. But something pulled at me and I couldn't explain it. Like a thread attached to my ribs being tugged from the other side of the wall.

I pushed the door open just slightly and looked through the gap.

He was standing in the main hall with his back partially toward me. Tall. Broader than anyone I had ever seen. Dark hair cut close. He wore no formal pack clothing, just dark worn leather and boots that had seen real miles. A scar ran from behind his left ear down to his jaw.

He turned slightly to receive a document from his Beta and I saw his face properly for the first time.

Strong jaw. Straight nose. Amber eyes that swept the room like they were cataloguing everything and missing nothing.

He was not what I expected.

I expected someone who looked like cruelty. Someone who wore power the way Mara wore it. Loudly. Visibly. As a weapon.

He just looked... certain. Like a man who had never once in his life doubted where he stood or what he was capable of.

I must have shifted my weight because the door creaked.

Just once. A small sound. Nothing.

His head turned.

Slowly. Precisely. Like a wolf catching a scent.

His amber eyes found the gap in the door and landed directly on me.

My heart stopped.

I jerked back from the door and pressed myself against the kitchen wall, my pulse hammering so hard I could feel it in my teeth.

He couldn't have seen me clearly. The gap was too small. The kitchen was dim.

But something told me that didn't matter.

Because an Alpha like Ronan Greymane didn't need to see you clearly.

He just needed to know you were there.

And then Bette burst through the kitchen door, her face pale, and grabbed my arm so tightly it hurt.

"He's asking for you," she whispered.

The color drained from my face. "What?"

"He saw you." Her voice was shaking. "He's asking who you are and why your scent..."

She stopped. Pressed her lips together.

"Why my scent what?" I asked.

Bette looked at me and for the first time in nineteen years, the woman who had always been steady and calm looked genuinely afraid.

"He says it's impossible," she whispered. "He says you smell like..."

The kitchen door swung open.

And Alpha Ronan Greymane filled the entire frame.

His amber eyes locked onto mine and something shifted in them. Something raw and unguarded that did not match the controlled man I had watched through the door gap.

His voice was low when he spoke. Almost like he was talking to himself.

"Who are you?"