My Parents Woke My Wolf in My Killer

I was kidnapped at five. Found at sixteen. Dead at nineteen.

They found me two nights after the full moon, in a warehouse at the edge of the pack's land.

My wolf was torn out of me while I was still breathing. Whoever took her left the rest of me where it fell.

By the time the enforcers got there, my face was too swollen to recognize. The marks on my body were the kind only forbidden work leaves, so they called in the two people who would know for sure.

That's how my parents ended up standing over me.

Dad—Gideon Mercer, Alpha of Duskmere. Fourteen years ago he broke the ring that stole wolves out of the poor, and he'd been famous for it ever since. Mom—Rosalind Mercer, our Luna, and the best healer in the pack. The enforcers wanted the Alpha to say whether the old trade was back, and the Luna to read the body.

They'd come straight from my sister Noelle's bedside. Two nights ago, my mother had woken a wolf in Noelle's chest.

My wolf.

She didn't know that yet.

Mom crouched next to me and ran her fingers over my chest, over the places where the craft had gone in. "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Old work. Forbidden." She looked at my face. "She's young. What a waste."

Two nights ago those same hands had settled that wolf into Noelle and called it strong and healthy. The wolf was mine. So was the body she was kneeling over now.

Three years ago, after the enforcers pulled me out, they brought me home to the Mercers. Mom stood in the doorway and looked me over—thin, scarred, no pack scent on me at all. She didn't hug me. She said, "Come in."

That night I found my bag out by the trash cans. Noelle watched from her window and put a finger to her lips.

An enforcer pulled a silver bracelet off my wrist. "There's something engraved inside."

Mom turned it over. WM. She dropped it in the evidence bag. "The victim's initials, probably. Log it."

Nothing on her face.

I bought that bracelet with three months of part-time pay. Dad barely looked at it. "Silver? No real wolf wears silver. You embarrass this family."

I never wore it in front of him again. But I never took it off, right up to the day I died.

Wren Mercer. My name, right under her thumb. She picked it up, turned it over, looked at it, put it down.

Just like she did with me.

"How many pups do you have, Alpha?" the enforcer asked. "Whoever did this is still out there. We'll put a watch on your family."

"A son, Caleb. Journalist, out of territory." Dad paused. "Two daughters. Noelle just got her wolf, she's still recovering. And… Wren."

He tripped on my name, like he had to go find it first.

"Both home?"

"Noelle's at the healing hall. Wren…" He frowned. "Hasn't been home in days."

I'd been gone eleven years by the time the enforcers found me and the blood-records said I was theirs. But Noelle—their adopted niece—had been their daughter for twelve of those years. Small, sweet, easy to love. I came back thin and scarred and quiet, and I didn't even smell like family. In that house, I was the stranger nobody wanted.

Dad's phone buzzed. Noelle's report from the healers—resting well, wolf holding steady. He let out a breath. "Noelle's looking good."

Mom cut in. "Is she eating? Is the wolf settling? I'll check her myself the second we're back."

The enforcer reminded them to keep the family close. Mom nodded. "Watch on Noelle's room. Caleb's out of territory, he's fine. As for Wren—" Her voice went flat. "Tell her to keep her head down. Not that she ever listens."

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. The enforcer noticed the little jar in his pocket. "Neck again?"

"It's fine. This helps." He turned the jar over. "Wr—" He stopped. "The apothecary makes it."

I made it. I found the herbs that loosen a stiff neck and left a jar in his study. No note. He never asked who put it there.

The enforcer looked at him. "Your daughter's been gone for days and you're not worried? When she was taken at five, you shut the whole pack down for six months to find her. Now she's back and you treat her like a stranger."

Dad shook his head. "You don't know her. She came back nothing like ours. Won't follow pack law, fights with her sister. A few nights ago Noelle almost died waiting for her wolf, whole family at her side—and Wren? Phone off. Gone."

His voice went cold. "That girl—even if she dies out there, she's got no one to blame but herself."

The same night the family stood around Noelle waiting for a wolf, I was in that warehouse getting mine cut out.

She got one. I lost mine.

They left. Back to the healing hall, back to Noelle.

Dad called ahead from the car. "The awakening went perfectly. Strong wolf. Cleanest I've seen."

Mom watched the road. "That poor girl tonight. Awful way to go. Her family must be wrecked." Then: "Tell Wren to stop wandering around out there. There's a killer loose." A pause. "Not that she'll listen."

Back at the healing hall, Mom pulled the blanket up over Noelle's shoulders. Noelle stirred, pale and sleepy and pleased with herself. "Mom. I can feel her moving. My wolf."

Mom's face went soft. It never once went soft like that for me. "Rest, baby. I'm right here."

And inside Noelle's chest, my wolf turned toward my mother's voice.

I felt it. I don't know how, but I felt her reach for Mom. My wolf reached for my mother. Her hand was on the wrong daughter.

Mom. Dad.

The body you stood over tonight was me.

The wolf you put in Noelle was mine. You cut her out of one daughter and put her in another and called it a blessing.

You don't know yet.

And I can never tell you.