The torches burn lower, hissing in the cold night air. Smoke coils upward, stinging Claire’s eyes. She stays on her knees in the dirt, her body trembling as if the earth itself wants to swallow her.

Her wolf is slipping.

She feels it—the sharp tearing inside her soul, like claws raking her chest from within. The bond that has always been steady, warm, and unbreakable now feels thin, fragile, ready to snap.

“No… no, please,” Claire whispers, clutching her chest. Her nails dig into her skin until blood beads, but it does nothing to stop the pain. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t.”

The crowd watches in silence at first, then whispers spread like fire.

“She’s losing it.”

“Her wolf is dying.”

“This is a curse. The Goddess has judged her.”

Claire arches backward, a raw cry escaping her lips. Her body convulses as heat flashes through her veins, followed by freezing cold. She claws at the ground, dirt wedging beneath her nails.

“I can’t—” she gasps. “I can’t feel her anymore!”

Her wolf whimpers in the back of her mind, then grows weaker, dimmer, until the sound is nothing but silence.

The bond shatters.

Claire screams, the sound raw and animal, echoing through the clearing.

The pack recoils, some covering their ears, some staring wide-eyed in horror. Mothers clutch their children tighter. Warriors grip their weapons as though she might explode into violence at any moment.

“She’s cursed,” a voice shouts. “The Moon Goddess has abandoned her!”

Claire falls forward, her palms smacking the dirt. Her breath rattles. Her wolf—her other half—is gone. A hollow emptiness spreads inside her chest, deeper than any wound.

“No…” Her voice cracks. “No, no, no. Please. Don’t do this to me.”

From the crowd, a man pushes forward. His broad shoulders, graying beard, and cold eyes make the pack instantly part for him. Sam.

Her father.

Claire’s eyes widen. “Father—”

But his face is carved from stone. He doesn’t look at her like his daughter. He looks at her like a stranger.

“You are no child of mine,” Sam says, his voice sharp, cutting the night air like a blade. “The moment you killed Helena, you ceased being my blood. And now, without a wolf, you are nothing. A shell.”

Claire’s heart cracks. “No! Please, Father, don’t say that. I didn’t kill her. I swear—”

Sam steps closer. His shadow swallows her. “You murdered your own mother. You shamed me, shamed this pack, shamed the Goddess herself. You are not my daughter.”

His words are final. Cruel.

Claire’s breath shudders. She shakes her head wildly. “No, no, don’t turn away from me too. You’re all I have left!”

But Sam turns his back, his shoulders rigid. He does not look at her again.

The whispers surge into shouts.

“Her own father doesn’t claim her.”

“She’s cursed. She’s dangerous.”

“Cast her out before more blood spills!”

Claire’s chest heaves. She tries to rise to her knees, but her body is weak. The world blurs through her tears.

Then Zoe steps forward.

Tall, sharp, beautiful in a cruel way, Zoe’s lips twist with hatred as she glares down at Claire. The firelight flickers across her sneering face.

“You should have died with your mother,” Zoe spits. She literally spits, and the warm glob lands across Claire’s cheek. The humiliation burns hotter than fire. “The pack doesn’t want you. The Goddess doesn’t want you. You are filth. You are a curse.”

Claire trembles, lifting her sleeve to wipe her face. “Zoe, please. Don’t—”

Zoe snarls, her voice loud enough for all to hear. “I say we cast her out tonight. Let the rogues tear her apart. That’s better than keeping her here to infect us with her curse.”

The crowd roars in agreement.

“Yes!”

“Exile her!”

“She doesn’t belong among wolves!”

Claire’s stomach twists. She looks around, her eyes searching desperately for even one face of mercy. But all she sees are shadows and hate.

She shouts through her tears, her voice cracking. “Why would I kill my mother? What would I gain? Can’t you see someone wants this? Someone is framing me!”

The pack hesitates. Murmurs ripple.

“Who would want that?”

“Why now?”

“She’s lying. She’s desperate.”

Claire’s gaze darts wildly. “Think about it! Who benefits from my mother’s death? Who gains power from me being cursed?”

But her words fall flat. Suspicion already coils around her like chains.

Sam growls, stepping forward again. “Enough of your lies, girl. Your wolf is gone, your soul is broken. There is no place for you among us.”

Claire shakes, her nails clawing the dirt until her fingers bleed. “No… no, no. Please, don’t cast me out. Don’t leave me alone.”

Elder Rowan raises his staff, striking it against the ground. The sound echoes through the clearing. “The pack has spoken. Claire is cursed. She shall be marked and exiled. If she survives the night, the rogues may claim her. If she dies, the Goddess has judged.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd. Some cheer. Others whisper nervously.

Claire’s head spins. Her body shakes violently. Her wolf is gone. Her father has abandoned her. Zoe has spat on her. The pack has turned.

And still, the question burns inside her like fire: Who benefits from this? Who set me up?

Her mother’s face flashes in her mind—warm smile, gentle eyes, arms that once held her safe. Now gone. Bloodied. Blamed on her.

Someone wanted Helena dead. Someone wanted Claire cursed.

But who?

Claire’s body sags forward. Dirt presses against her lips. Her tears stain the ground.

And in the shadows, unseen by her, a pair of eyes glint with satisfaction. Watching. Waiting.