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Alpha's Lies, My Freedom Novel Cover

Alpha's Lies, My Freedom

The morning of my eighteenth birthday arrived with the same gray drizzle that had been falling for three days straight. I pressed my face against the cool window of our small cottage, watching droplets race down the glass like tears I refused to shed. Today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to change everything. "Happy birthday, sweetheart." Dad's voice carried from the kitchen, rough with the chronic pain that never seemed to leave him anymore. I turned to find him leaning heavily against the doorframe, his left shoulder—the one that never healed properly after saving Alpha Axel—hanging at that familiar awkward angle. "Thanks, Dad." I managed a smile, though my stomach churned with anticipation and dread in equal measure. Eighteen. The age when every werewolf's inner wolf was supposed to emerge, when the transformation that defined our very existence should finally claim me. But as the hours crawled by, nothing happened.
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Chapter 2

Three months had passed since my eighteenth birthday, and the whispers had only grown louder. But today, everything was supposed to change. Today, Alpha Axel would finally honor the life debt he owed my family and complete our Marking Ceremony.

The pack house buzzed with activity as visiting Alphas from neighboring territories arrived for the formal ceremony. I caught glimpses of them through my bedroom window—powerful figures whose presence demanded respect and attention. This wasn't just about Axel and me anymore. This was about his reputation as an Alpha who honored the Moon Goddess's will.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Dad asked from the doorway, his voice stronger than it had been in weeks. The Pack Healer had increased his treatments in preparation for today, and for the first time in months, he stood without leaning against the frame.

I nodded, though my hands trembled as I reached for the ceremonial gown hanging on my closet door. The traditional white silk gleamed in the afternoon light, its intricate silver embroidery catching the sun like captured moonbeams. According to pack tradition, the Luna-to-be wore this gown during the Marking Ceremony, a symbol of purity and the Moon Goddess's blessing.

"Your mother would be so proud," Dad whispered, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "You look just like her."

I pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek, tasting the salt of his emotion. "I love you, Dad."

The fabric felt strange against my fingertips as I lifted it from the hanger—slightly damp, as if it hadn't dried completely from cleaning. But there was no time to worry about such details. The ceremony would begin at sunset, and I still needed to prepare.

I slipped the gown over my head, the silk sliding down my body like liquid moonlight. For a moment, I felt beautiful. Worthy. Like the Luna I was meant to become.

Then the burning started.

It began as a gentle warmth against my skin, almost pleasant. But within seconds, the warmth became heat, then fire, then agony beyond anything I'd ever experienced. The silk that had felt like a caress now felt like liquid flame, searing every inch of skin it touched.

I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat as I clawed at the gown, desperate to get it off. But my fingers felt clumsy, uncoordinated, as if the very air had thickened around me. The burning intensified, and I could smell something acrid and wrong—the scent of wolfsbane mixing with my own terror.

"Skylar!" Dad's voice seemed to come from very far away, though I knew he was right beside me. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor, convulsing as the poison soaked deeper into my skin. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, and my vision blurred as tears streamed down my face. Through the haze of pain, I heard Dad shouting for help, his voice cracking with panic.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. The door burst open, and suddenly the room filled with voices—pack members, the Pack Healer, and somewhere in the chaos, Alpha Axel's commanding tone cutting through the noise.

"Get that gown off her now!" the Healer ordered, and I felt hands pulling at the fabric, peeling it away from my burning skin. The relief was immediate but incomplete—the wolfsbane had already done its work, leaving chemical burns across my arms, shoulders, and back.

As the immediate agony faded to a more manageable throbbing, I became aware of another commotion in the hallway. Anaya's voice, high and distressed, carried through the doorway.

"I can't... I can't control it!" she cried, her words punctuated by what sounded like a struggle. "My wolf is going crazy! There's so much chaos, so much pain in the air!"

Axel's voice immediately shifted from concern for me to protective alarm for her. "Get her to the Luna's quarters," he commanded. "Away from all this."

I tried to speak, to call out that I needed him here, but my throat felt raw and my voice came out as barely a whisper. Through my tears, I watched his silhouette disappear from the doorway, following Anaya's retreating form.

"Wolfsbane," the Pack Healer murmured, examining the discarded gown with gloved hands. "The entire dress has been soaked in it. This much exposure... it's a miracle she's alive."

"How did this happen?" Dad demanded, his voice shaking with rage and fear. "Who had access to the ceremonial gown?"

The Healer's expression grew grim. "The gown was prepared by the pack's inner circle. We'll need to investigate, but..." She trailed off, glancing toward the door where Axel had disappeared.

As she began treating my burns with a cooling salve, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror across the room. My skin was red and blistered, my hair matted with sweat and tears. I looked like a victim, not a Luna.

And somewhere in the distance, I could hear Anaya's voice, calmer now, explaining to Axel how the sight of my suffering had triggered her wolf's protective instincts, how she couldn't bear to see anyone in pain.

The burns on my skin would heal, I knew. But something else had been poisoned today—my faith that this ceremony would ever truly happen.

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