Chapter 1 - The Blood of Ancients
The sterile white of the hospital ceiling blurred above Ivy Sterling as consciousness clawed its way back through the fog of pain.
Her face throbbed with a rhythmic, burning agony that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat.
When she raised trembling fingers to her cheek, they came away wet with something that wasn't tears.
Blood.
So much blood.
The memory crashed over her like a tidal wave—Elena's triumphant sneer as she carved that wretched blade across Ivy's skin, the way her fiancé Marcus had simply watched, his cold eyes devoid of any emotion she'd once believed lived there.
"You were never worthy of this dress," Elena had hissed, clutching the ivory gown that had cost Ivy's grandmother's entire savings. "And you were never worthy of him."
Ivy's breath came in ragged gasps as she forced herself upright, ignoring the screaming protest of her muscles.
The hospital room was empty, which meant they'd dumped her here like garbage and fled.
Like cowards.
But something else stirred beneath her skin now—something ancient and furious that had been sleeping for twenty-four years.
Her grandmother had always said the Sterling blood carried secrets.
"Never trust what you see in the mirror, little wolf," the old woman had whispered on her deathbed, clutching Ivy's hand with surprising strength. "Our family's greatest enemy is our own reflection."
Ivy had thought it was dementia talking.
Now she understood.
The silver bracelet on her wrist—the one her grandmother had insisted she never remove—began to glow with an ethereal light.
The metal grew hot, then scalding, and Ivy screamed as it seemed to melt into her flesh.
But instead of pain, she felt power.
Raw, unbridled power that flooded her veins like liquid fire.
Her eyes darted to the small mirror above the sink, and what she saw there made her heart stop.
Her wounds were healing—closing, smoothing, disappearing as if they'd never existed.
But that wasn't what made her gasp.
It was the wolf.
The ancient, golden-eyed wolf that stared back at her from the depths of her own reflection.
"You're awake," a voice said from the doorway.
Ivy whirled around, her body tensing for a fight she knew she couldn't win in her current state.
The man standing there was tall, with silver-streaked hair and eyes the color of storm clouds.
He wore an expensive suit that probably cost more than her entire apartment.
But it was the energy radiating from him that made Ivy's newly awakened instincts scream with recognition.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice raw and cracked.
"Someone who's been waiting for you to wake up," he replied calmly. "My name is Damian Blackwood, and I'm the Alpha of the Eastern Pack."
Ivy's blood ran cold.
Pack.
Wolf.
Everything her grandmother had warned her about was real.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, backing away slowly.
Damian's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Your grandmother, Eleanor, was the last of the Sterling line. She was also the most powerful werewolf I've ever known. Until now."
"I'm not a—"
"You shifted in your sleep," he interrupted. "The nurses ran screaming. I had to compel them to forget what they saw."
Ivy looked down at her hands and saw that her nails had lengthened into something that was definitely not human.
"Your grandmother hid you from us," Damian continued, taking a cautious step forward. "She knew that when you came of age, your power would manifest. And she knew that there are those who would stop at nothing to claim it."
"The Sterlings are human," Ivy whispered, though even she no longer believed it.
"Your mother was human," Damian agreed. "But your father was something else entirely. He was a Lycan—one of the ancient bloodlines that predate the werewolf packs. And he was murdered by the very people you were about to marry into."
The room spun around her.
Marcus's family.
The prestigious Moore clan, with their old money and even older secrets.
"They knew," Ivy breathed. "Marcus knew what I was."
"Not what you are," Damian corrected. "Who you are. You see, Ivy, your grandmother didn't just hide you from us. She hid you from them. The Moores have been hunting the Sterling line for generations. Your father's death was only the beginning."
"Why?" The word escaped her lips like a prayer.
"Because the Sterling blood carries the ability to unite the packs," Damian explained. "To end the centuries of infighting and create an alliance strong enough to defeat the true enemy. But it can also be used to destroy everything. The Moores want that power for themselves."
Ivy's mind raced with a thousand questions, but only one truly mattered.
"Can you help me get revenge?"
Damian's smile widened. "I was hoping you'd ask that."
But there was something in his eyes—something ancient and calculating—that made Ivy wonder if she'd just made a deal with the devil.
And somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
May you like
It was a mournful sound, full of warning.
Full of death.
