The wolf within her
Born into a werewolf family but believing she was ordinary-until her father is framed and exiled for a crime he didn't commit and she is forced to step into the limelight as an alpha for her pack. What ivy doesn't know is that her entire life has been built on lies , from an ancient prophesy tied to her birth to the closest people hiding truths sharp enough to shatter her . Would she be able to fulfil destiny or fall prey to the forces determined to break her?
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Chapter 4
IVY
No one knew what was going on yet.
Students were grumbling about the amount of time we were wasting and others were still sleeping peacefully. Talia and I ran up to where the driver was and tried to speak with him. Reaching his seat, we quickly realised that there was no talking to this man.
He was jerking his head every which way and mumbling something about dying before GTA 6.
This is who has been steering us for the last 4 hours??!" She pointed a finger in his direction. "His hands haven't even left the wheel!"
She was right. His grip was so strong on the steering wheel, it would be easier to detach it from the dashboard than to pry his fingers off.
I looked toward the end of the bus and saw that people were starting to take notice of the wolves. Their shadows slid across the bus windows in pieces, warped and disjointed, projected on the glass.
The earth stood still, the grass darkened in various spots, flattened and bruised. The trees bent forward without wind, and nature held its breath as if waiting for a downpour.
A few girls had picked up their phones and were now recording the animals.
"I'm gonna get so many views from this," One of them said. "Hey, move you're in my shot!" She elbowed the boy directly in front of the window.
The particular wolf she was filming must have been unimpressed with TikTok because it let out a low, grating snarl.
The girl dropped her phone the moment she caught a glimpse of the look in its eyes. Shaking and now terrified, she lowered herself down to her seat and sat still.
The wolves began to circle the bus, snarling and growling as they toyed with their next meal. They seemed to revel in our agitation, and I wondered what would finally make them act.
"Can someone just...shoo them away? I don't see why we have stop our trip because of some rabid dogs."
That did it.
Thunder roared and the bus began the shake. The wolves played a beat on the metal, hitting and denting the surface of the bus. People cried out and edged toward the other side of the vehicle, but that only served to make it unstable, almost toppling us over as the wolves pushed.
"Everyone, stay calm!" Collins raised his voice and stepped in the center of the throng.
"They're just animals; they sense our fear. We just need to assert our dominance."
The pack howled as one, lifting their snouts to the sky like he's just said the most hilarious thing. Collins could figure that out too, because he narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders in challenge.
Then he did something Townsend-worthy. He turned his back to us and roared at the wolves.
We all reared back, startled and even the beasts paused. Then all at once they began the roar back in anger.
Collins moved even closer toward the window , probably wanting to attempt the stupid stunt again, when one of them locked eyes with him and jumped forward,
Glass shattered everywhere.
Before we knew it, he was screaming. With jaws clamped around his wrist, he tried pulling and yanking it out but the wolf held on. It wasn't until he punched it's snout with his free hand that the whimpered and let him go.
He dropped to the floor and crawled his way toward the rest of us.
"Collins, are you okay?" I asked assesing the wound on his hand.
Blood poured in rivulets down his wrist, soking into his shirt and pants. The bite marks formed crescent shaped bruises around his arm, forming a weird sort of bracelet as he twisted it. It was like he didn't even hear me, he just looked around as if he'd been called by a ghost.
"I'm going to puke," Townsend announced before he began to retch on the bus floor. I couldn't even bring myself to be disgusted, because at that moment, we heard a different crash.
One of them had broken in through the rear window.
People were everywhere at once, scattering from the bus like frightened birds, their screams echoing across the empty field. They realized they couldn't outrun the wolves and settledfor crying out and screeching.
One wolf almost tore Townsend's arm off when he tried to shoo it away with a beer bottle.
"Gah!" He jumped, landing back towards the bus before remembering that there was one in there and rushed to his feet.
In the chaos, I realized that Talia was no longer next to me. A different kind of fear gripped me that instant. I darted my eyes around the scramble of students looking for her and coming up empty. My stomach churned, but I couldn't move.
"Talia! Tal-" My voice broke from screaming tearfully.
The wolves didn't rush. They circled us. I gulped when I realized who they were closing in on.
The boy from the bus.
The one I'd barely registered that morning.
I took a closer look at him. His face jostled a memory from years ago, when my dad had just become Alpha. Powerful wolf families gathered in our house to celebrate him; I remember being told to stay in my room so that no one would see me. I was so amazed at the prospect of being around tons of wolves, hoping for the chance to see one transform.
Peeking from the slit in my door hinges, my gaze landed on a young boy a little older than me. When all the other kids were rushing forward with their parents, he stayed behind his mother. I didn't understand why at the time, but now, as he cowered beneath the creatures' gaze, I finally did.
A weak wolf hidden among humans.
And I realized then that other wolves couldn't stand the sight of those inferior to them.
The biggest wolf in the pack stepped forward, as if wanting to take the first bite.
My body reacted before my mind. I moved to shield him.
The wolf's gaze shifted.
To me.
A low growl vibrated under the soles of my feet. The wind died, carrying the scent of wet earth and fur. It took its time approaching me, the other wolves studying me as if wondering how stupid I was to be a distraction from their Alpha's prey. Panic was a living, breathing monster in me.
I was going to die, and I knew it.
My hands clenched at my sides without thinking, my fingers pressing into the fabric of my jeans. Every instinct screamed at me to run but I stood firm, something inside me holding me in place.
It stalked in my direction, moving slowly, taking its time to assess me.
Time seemed to stretch. The air turned electric. The other students' cries seemed distant, muffled, as though the atmosphere had stilled.
I wondered how much longer I would need to be brave, when a now familiar compelling force began pushing me to lift up my eyes. I hestitated until I heard someone scream; instantly, my eyes caught the Alpha's, forcing his gaze away from whoever had made that sound.
It stiffened, tilting its head as if considering me.
Maintaing eye contact, I took a step forward. The action carried an instinctive command, a warning.
Its hackles rose, teeth bared, confusion flashing across its gaze. It took one slow step after another, as if fighting against something invisible that forced it to obey.
Slowly and unwillingly, it lowered its head.
The rest of the pack noticed their Alpha's stance and began to follow suit.
One by one, the other wolves froze, then lowered their heads in deference.
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8.1
Rhea Hale, a young art restorer at the old Elaria gallery, lives a life of near-perfect calm-canvases, colors, and classical symphonies that fill her every day. But when she touches a mysterious painting titled The Moon Painting, something inside her begins to shift. Strange visions, eyes watching from the fog, and wild emotions she can't explain slowly start to unravel her peaceful world.
Across the city, Kaelan Viero-the national hockey team's captain-carries the charm and composure of a champion. But beneath the arena lights and public spotlight, there's a side of him he never shows... until his eyes lock with a stranger's in the stands.
That brief moment sparks something long buried.
And from then on, neither of their lives remains the same.
"One glance started it all. And after that... there was no turning back."
7.2
I am a resident surgeon, secretly married to Dr. Barrett Walters, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery. It was a transactional marriage; he paid my mother's mounting medical bills, and I was his secret, obedient wife in the dark.
But at the hospital, he was a cold-blooded tyrant who deliberately made my life a living hell. During a major medical conference, he viciously tore apart my successful surgical repair, looking me dead in the eye as he called me incompetent in front of all my colleagues.
The humiliation didn't stop there. With his tacit approval, the senior residents bullied me, assigning me every brutal night shift. When his beautiful, wealthy heiress "girlfriend" visited the ward, he publicly mocked my background to make her smile.
"Some people get in through the back door. They're not fit for the front lines."
Even when I was forced to work as a secret banquet waitress to cover the medical copays he ignored, he found me, ruined the job out of pure possessive jealousy, and then fined my meager resident salary the very next morning just to show his absolute control.
I endured his punishing kisses and cruel rebukes, sacrificing my dignity just to keep my mother alive. But I couldn't understand why he had to destroy every shred of my peace. If he wanted the perfect heiress, why did he refuse to let me go?
Staring at his cold, controlling eyes in the stairwell, my exhaustion finally overpowered my fear. I was done being his victim, and it was time to tear up this contract.
8.3
I was the "crazy girl" my family sent to a survivalist commune in Utah to rot. Four years later, I returned to Manhattan with a titanium USB drive and a heart full of ice, ready to blackmail the one man who could burn my family to the ground.
But I underestimated how much they hated me. My fiancé, Preston, was already laundering money through my inheritance and sleeping with my replacement. He didn't even flinch when I showed him the evidence of his crimes.
Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, smashed my phone, and shoved me out of his moving Lincoln into a midnight storm. I hit the wet pavement hard, my knees scraping against the asphalt as I watched him drive away, laughing about how I was a "dirt-poor exile" that nobody wanted.
Within minutes, my credit cards were flagged as stolen and my father’s lawyers were drafting a statement calling me mentally unstable. I was left shivering in a puddle of oily sludge, wearing a ruined Chanel suit, with no money, no home, and no one to hear me scream.
I couldn't understand how they could be so cruel. I was their flesh and blood, yet they treated me like a broken toy to be discarded in the trash. I was a "distressed asset" in a city that only valued gold.
That’s when a black armored SUV pulled to the curb. King Wagner—the ruthless shark of Wall Street and Preston’s own uncle—looked at my muddy face with cold, calculating eyes. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a leash.
"You belong to me now," he whispered, pulling me into the dry warmth of his car. By the next morning, he had announced our engagement to the world, turning me into the very weapon that would slit my family's throat.
8.8
Serena, six months pregnant, continued to save lives on the battlefield, despite her severe illness.
Her husband, Logan, who had once chosen her over his family, gave her life-saving medicine and prenatal care items to his lover, Amy.
When the artillery struck, he let go of Serena's hand without hesitation to protect another woman, leaving Serena to collapse on the battlefield.
Later, Serena earned the respect of everyone in the midst of conflict with her medical skills.
Her ex-husband, eyes filled with remorse, knelt before her, saying, "I married her out of gratitude, I won't divorce..."
Before Serena could respond, a gun was already aimed at Logan's forehead by the undisputed leader of the safe area. "Sign the divorce papers. She's with me now."
8.7
I stood as a ghost, watching the rhythmic thud of dirt hitting my own casket. My father, Senator Ellwood, dabbed his eyes for the cameras while my stepmother, Carroll, played the grieving mother perfectly, even though they were the ones who had paved the way for my murder.
The vision shifted to a high-rise office where Isadore Walker, the terrifying "Shadow Regent," was methodically bankrupting every elite family that had betrayed me. He pressed a silver koi fish necklace to his lips and triggered a massive explosion, choosing to burn the entire world down just to join me in death.
"Little Fish," he whispered.
In my first life, I was a naive pawn who believed my best friend, Catarina, when she claimed I simply slipped into the pool at my Debutante Ball. I let the opportunistic Cody Stevens play the hero who "saved" me, leading to a hollow engagement that ended in my ruin. I never knew that my stepmother had conspired with our housekeeper to hide my true identity and keep me from my biological family.
I died without ever understanding why Isadore, a man who treated me with cold indifference, would sacrifice everything for my sake. I didn't know that my entire life was a web of kidnappings and bribes designed to keep me as a political pawn.
Suddenly, the heat of the explosion warped into the agonizing burn of icy water. I broke the surface, gasping for air, back at the very party where my downfall began three years ago.
As I climbed out, I didn't look for Cody’s help. I wrapped myself in Isadore’s sandalwood-scented jacket and felt the cold steel of the tactical knife he had left in the pocket. This time, I wasn't the victim; I was the one who would light the fuse.
7.7
Waking up in silk sheets should have felt like a dream, but the smell of expensive whiskey and masculine musk triggered a warning siren in my skull. I was in Dorian McClain’s bed—the man who could crush my entire existence with a single signature.
I fled his hotel suite like a ghost, but in my hungover panic, I snatched the wrong phone. By the time I reached my crumbling apartment in Queens, that one mistake had already set my life on fire.
My uncle Silas had trashed my home, demanding money for my grandfather’s nursing home bill. When he saw Dorian’s encrypted phone, he didn't see a mistake; he saw a ransom. He sold me out to debt collectors who held a switchblade to my throat, forcing me to call the billionaire I had just abandoned. Dorian didn't save me out of mercy; he came to reclaim a security breach.
He treated my rescue like a cold business transaction. He had me fired from my job and forced me into a marriage contract just to secure his family trust. He even made me beg for my grandfather’s life, demanding a humiliating act of submission for a medical bill that was mere pocket change to him. To him, I was just a mute, broken girl—the perfect silent accessory for his public image.
"Welcome to hell, Mrs. McClain," he murmured, his voice a low rumble as he slid a massive diamond onto my finger.
He thinks my silence is a trauma-induced weakness. He thinks he bought a submissive pawn who will stay in her gilded cage. But as I sat in his penthouse and bypassed his "unbreakable" firewalls in seconds, I realized he had made a fatal mistake. Dorian McClain didn't just buy a wife; he invited the CIA’s most dangerous ghost into his private mainframe.
Echo is back online, and I’m going to burn his empire to the ground.