Reina’s POV

The stranger’s cold, unreadable eyes watched me. He didn't answer. He just stepped aside. I pushed past him, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. My stomach churned.

The hallway lay in ruins. Furniture overturned. Paintings askew. The staircase banister gouged with deep, unnatural claw marks. My heart hammered against my ribs. Then I saw them.

My parents huddled on the living room floor. Ropes bound their wrists and ankles. Faces pale, streaked with dirt and fear. But alive. Relief, sharp and sudden, almost buckled my knees.

“Mom! Dad!” I stumbled forward, ignoring the two figures standing over them. One, the stranger. The other, an imposing man. Startling white hair. Eyes of piercing blue, chillingly still.

My father’s eyes, usually warm, met mine. Ancient sorrow. A profound regret. “Reina, stay back!” he rasped, his voice rough.

But I was already there, dropping to my knees. “What happened? Who are these men? Are you hurt?” I tugged at the ropes, frantic, useless. My fingers scraped against the rough fibers.

The white-haired man stepped forward. His voice, a low rumble, vibrated through the floorboards, a sound that seemed to hum in my bones. "They are rogues, girl. They broke their bond."

Rogues? Pack? The words were foreign, alien, yet they hung heavy in the air, weighted with an unspoken dread. "What are you talking about? My parents are not... they're not anything!" My voice came out thin, inadequate, a desperate squeak against his cold certainty.

"Wolves who abandoned their duties," the other chaos wolf added, his tone flat, devoid of emotion. "They face judgment."

My gaze darted between their unyielding faces, then back to my parents. They were wolves? My parents? The dreams, the whispers, the strange instincts I’d always dismissed as fiction, they weren't dreams. They were real.

A wave of nausea hit me. I swayed, the room tilting. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. My normal life, the quiet comfort of our home, shattered around me.

Rough hands seized me. Not gentle, not violent, just firm, inescapable. My parents cried out, their protests swallowed by a sudden, deafening silence from the chaos wolves. The world spun into a blur, a sickening lurch. I was pulled from my home. Pulled from everything I knew.

The last thing I saw was the shattered mirror reflecting a distorted image of our living room, broken fragments mirroring my own splintered reality. Then darkness. The feeling of being dragged, then lifted, moving with impossible speed. The chilling sensation of the air rushing past my face, the scent of unfamiliar earth, and a profound, terrifying certainty that I was leaving my world behind.

***

A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. I stirred, a heavy weight pressing down on my limbs.

The air was cold, different, carrying scents I couldn't recognize…. pine, damp earth, something wild and unfamiliar.

My eyes fluttered open.

I wasn’t in my bed, no this wasn’t my room.

It had stone walls. Rough, dark, unyielding. A small, high window showed only a sliver of grey sky. A simple cot beneath me, covered with coarse animal pelts. A single, flickering torch cast dancing shadows across the room.

I panicked, slightly feeling dizzy from the haze of unconsciousness.

I pushed up, scrambling off the cot. My legs wobbled making it hard to stay upright. My mind raced, trying to piece together fragmented memories.

Luca, the slap, the blood, the stranger in my living room, the hands seizing me…

But before I could piece everything together….

The door, heavy wood bound with iron, creaked open.

The white-haired man stood there. His blue eyes, still chillingly calm, took me in. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. He held a wooden bowl with steam rising from it.

"You're awake," his voice rumbled, the same low vibration I remembered. No warmth. No malice. Just a flat statement.

I stared at him, my throat dry. "Where... Where am I?"

He placed the bowl on a small stone ledge. "The Night Pack. Our territory." He gestured vaguely around the cold room. "You are safe here. For now."

Night Pack. The words echoed from his earlier pronouncement. Wolves who abandoned their duties….. rogues… my parents.

My stomach clenched.

"My parents? Where are they? What is this place?"

He turned, his back to the door and arms crossed over his broad chest. "They are held. Their judgment awaits." He paused, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, as if reciting facts. "This is the Wolflands. Our realm. Where you originate from."

Realm? This was real. The dreams. The impossible speed. The brutal truth.

My body felt heavy, yet light and detached. I was no longer in my world. This was theirs. And I was trapped.

A sudden, sharp bang echoed from outside the room, followed by a low guttural roar that vibrated through the stone floor.

It wasn't the sound of an animal. It was a sound of raw power, of command. The white-haired man’s head snapped towards the door, his eyes narrowing.

A beat of silence. Then, a voice, deep and resonant, seemed to penetrate the very stone around us, a voice that spoke of authority and of absolute dominion.

"Bring the rogues forward. The Alpha will see them now."