My eyes narrowed at her. I'd never encountered a silent—no, mute—trespasser before. Most intruders either beg for mercy or lunge at me through the bars. It's always the same: teeth bared, rage burning. And it never ends well for them.
But this woman... she didn't speak. Didn't shift. Just watched.
She remained in her wolf form, and I couldn't help but wonder why.
I'd heard of cases where wolves withdraw completely into their primal form, leaving the human side behind. It usually happens when the wolf is far too dominant—when the human soul is too weak to balance it out. A true werewolf's strength lies in the harmony between both sides.
My situation, however, is different. My shift is forced—cursed. Uncontrollable. I have no say in it, and just the thought of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I scoffed and turned to leave.
"This is a waste of time. You'll remain here until you're ready to—"
Then it happened. She shifted.
Long, snowy white hair spilled into my vision like moonlight through mist. I froze, slowly turning back.
Pale, almost translucent skin. Eyes the color of a frozen lake—deep, unreadable. She didn't flinch or speak. Just stared, as if evaluating me.
She can shift… and yet she chose not to?
My frown deepened. Bold.
Most trespassers are dealt with immediately. But this—this—was a white wolf. A rarity that carried weight in legend.
"Are you ready to speak, woman?" I growled.
Still, silence. Her stare didn't waver—blank, yet piercing. I've endured every kind of glare, but this one… this one unsettled me. She looked like she was deciding whether I was worth speaking to at all.
Then something caught my eye. A flicker beneath her collarbone.
My eyes narrowed. Then widened.
"That mark…" I murmured.
She jolted and covered it. Her first real reaction in the six minutes I'd been down here—and it only deepened my suspicion.
"I'll ask you again," I said, voice low and dangerous. "Who are you, and how did you get that sigil?"
My wolf snarled from within, sensing something foul—something forbidden.
That was no ordinary mark. It was a sigil from the old wolf legends. A cursed symbol. No woman—no one—should bear it. Especially not someone so young.
Still no answer. Just silence.
I scoffed and left the dungeon.
As I strode into my study, my Beta followed close behind. I'd caught his scent lingering at the entrance minutes ago. He'd been listening.
"She refused to speak," I growled as he opened the door.
"We need to bring this to the council, Alpha," Luke said, his expression grim. "She's dangerous."
"A white wolf, hm?" I muttered, settling at my desk.
"I heard you agreed to send some of the young Alphas to meet with the Midnight Pack?" Luke asked, raising a brow.
I gave a faint smile. "That's right. Is something wrong?"
He studied me, then shook his head with a smirk. "Not at all, Alpha. I just hope they bring back useful intel."
"As do I."
As I buried myself in paperwork, Luke and a few patrol Betas returned to the dungeon to extract answers. When he returned, the dark cloud over his face said it all.
"She still won't speak!" he barked.
I chuckled. "Persistent."
If it comes to it, her days in that cell are numbered.
I convened the council that evening, recounting everything.
"She could be a spy," Luke argued, leaning back in his chair. "Sent from a rival pack to infiltrate us."
"Plausible," I admitted with a nod.
"We can't afford the risk. Execute her," one of the elders urged.
It was a valid suggestion. I should have agreed. But something about her gnawed at me—something I couldn't name. That white wolf had secrets buried deep.
Levi, our healer, cleared his throat and tapped his fingers against the table.
"A white wolf can be either fate or doom, Alpha," he said quietly. "Choose wisely."
Levi wasn't one to speak unless it mattered. He'd known me since I was a pup. Stern, wise, and precise—when he spoke, everyone listened.
"Fate... or doom?" I echoed, confused.
Then the seer, Leticia, began to mumble. Her eyes glazed.
"Sigil… mark… white… white… the white…" She rose and wandered around the room, dazed.
The tension was sharp. All eyes followed her.
"Speak, Leticia," Levi urged, leaning forward.
"The white wolf walks again," she whispered, staring at the stained-glass ceiling.
We all looked up.
The glass depicted a vivid scene: a white wolf and a black wolf standing on opposite ends of chaos and order. Divided, yet destined to clash.
My eyes narrowed.
"This is just a coincidence… right?" Luke said uncertainly.
Leticia slowly returned to her seat.
"There are no coincidences in our world, pup," she replied, her voice quiet but firm.
I steepled my fingers, silent.
This was far from over.