.
"Momma, I can't go alone," Blaze whimpered, clinging desperately to her mother's robes. Her small hands trembled, her fingers digging into the fabric as if letting go would send her spiraling into the abyss.
Her mother's tears streamed down her face, silent and unending. She held Blaze tighter, as if she could shield her from the inevitable.
Her father stood by the door, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Keren. It's the law." His voice was devoid of warmth, his gaze already shifting away as if she were no longer his daughter.
Her mother's grip tightened. "No, you're not. You're not sorry! You're happy about this!" she shrieked, her voice raw with fury and grief.
Outside the glass-paneled headquarters, the entire clan had gathered in a tight circle, waiting. Their faces were cold, impassive. Blaze's father stood in the center, the flickering torches casting long shadows behind him.
He cleared his throat. His voice rang with authority, unwavering, unfeeling. "As a shame to the royals, you are cast out. No longer one of us."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one stepped forward in protest.
His sharp gaze swept over the clan members, a silent warning. "No one shall be found assisting you. If you are caught receiving help, there will be consequences. From this moment forward, you fend for yourself."
Then, he turned his piercing stare to her mother. "Put her down."
Blaze felt her mother stiffen. She clung to her tighter, refusing to let go. But the weight of the stares bore down on them. Accusing. Unforgiving.
Her mother's arms trembled before she slowly, reluctantly, lowered Keren to the ground.
Blaze's wide eyes darted across the circle, searching—pleading—for someone, anyone, to step forward. A hand to hold. A whisper of kindness. A sign that she wasn't truly alone.
But no one met her gaze. One by one, they turned away.
The regent stepped forward, his voice solemn. "As per the law, keeping you among us would be an act of weakness. It is unheard of. It has not happened in centuries. You have learned our ways, our skills. You will survive."
"Daddy, please!" Blaze sobbed, rushing to him. She threw her arms around his legs, desperate. "I love you! Please, Daddy, don't do this!"
Her father's face remained emotionless. With a firm hand, he pushed her away.
She fell to the ground, stunned, the cold dirt biting into her skin.
Then he turned and walked away.
One by one, the clan members followed, their footsteps crunching against the earth. Her mother fought against the guards who held her back, her screams filled with agony.
"My baby! My baby! You monsters—how could you do this to her?!"
She kicked, thrashed, cursed them all, her wails piercing the night. But even she was dragged away.
Then there was silence.
Darkness swallowed the clearing.
Blaze waited, hoping, praying that someone—anyone—would come back for her.
No one did.
She stood, she sat, she cried, she screamed for help. But the headquarters was far from the city, far from the people. No one heard her.
She couldn't go to the city—her mother had warned her. Humans would sell her, turn her into a slave. And she feared the lycans even more. They lurked among the human clans, ruling the forests. They were her clan's greatest rivals—beasts she had been told never to cross paths with.
She was alone.
Stumbling into the darkness of the forest, she searched desperately for something—food, shelter, safety. But the night was unkind. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches whispering secrets she could not understand.
She found nothing.
Tired, cold, and terrified, she curled into the underbrush, hugging herself for warmth.
And she cried herself to sleep.
---
Blaze snapped out of her memories and swallowed the last chunk of meat in her mouth. The taste was bland now, overshadowed by the ghosts of her past.
With a sharp whistle, she called for her horse.
A moment later, a powerful white stallion emerged from the shadows, its hooves pounding against the earth as it approached. Blast.
She exhaled, placing a hand on his strong neck, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "We've finished the job, Blast. Let's go."
He neighed in response, his silver mane shimmering under the faint glow of the fire.
Grunting, Blaze hoisted the body onto Blast's back, securing it in place. Then, without hesitation, the stallion bolted into the darkness.
She followed.
Her feet barely touched the ground as she matched his speed, her body moving effortlessly with the wind. She had long learned to run like the wild—silent, swift, relentless.
Blast was more than just a horse. He was family.
She had found him when she was twelve, alone in the wilderness, both of them creatures abandoned by the world.
Blaze reached her destination, her muscles thrumming with the lingering adrenaline of the run. She had sprinted all the way from the forest, reaching the hidden safe house where she had parked the sleek black BMW i7, assigned for the mission. Blast had left for where she lived, the Devour's estate on his own.
Sliding into the driver's seat, she started the engine, the hum of power beneath her hands grounding her. The ride through the city was smooth, the late-night streets quiet, the neon lights casting eerie reflections against the rain-slick pavement.
She arrived at the hotel—an architectural marvel of glass and steel. The towering structure gleamed under the moonlight, its mirrored surface reflecting the city skyline.
The grand entrance was adorned with golden chandeliers, their soft glow spilling across the marble floor. Luxury cars lined the valet area, and uniformed doormen stood at attention, their eyes trained to spot only those who belonged.
Blaze stepped out, scanning her surroundings before locking the car. The beep echoed softly, lost in the murmur of late-night conversations.
Without hesitation, she made her way through the lavish lobby, slipping past the guests and staff with practiced ease. She ignored the opulent décor—the massive crystal chandeliers, the intricate gold detailing on the pillars, the scent of fresh orchids mingling with expensive cologne. She wasn't here for indulgence.
She moved with purpose, heading toward the back of the hotel, where a large metal door loomed, marked in bold letters: STAFF ONLY.