Nyra learned early that silence kept her alive.
Not safe. Never safe.
But alive.
The room they kept her in was small, cold, and always locked. The walls held the smell of damp wood and something older—something that never quite left. She sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, counting her breaths the way she always did after the pain stopped.
One. Two. Three.
If she focused on the numbers, she didn't have to think about anything else.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Nyra froze.
She didn't need to guess who it was.
His steps were lighter than his father's, but sharper. More deliberate. Like he enjoyed the sound of them. Like he wanted her to hear him coming.
The handle turned.
The door creaked open.
She didn't look up.
"You're quiet today," his voice came, smooth and amused.
Nyra kept her eyes on the floor.
"I asked you something."
Silence.
A hand grabbed her chin and forced her face up.
"There you are," he murmured, studying her like she was something broken he hadn't finished fixing. "I was starting to think you forgot how to listen."
Nyra said nothing.
She had learned that words only made it worse.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"You think ignoring me makes you strong?"
Her jaw clenched.
No.
It made her survive.
The first strike came without warning.
Her head snapped to the side, pain blooming instantly across her cheek. She tasted blood. The room tilted for a second before settling again.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you."
She forced her eyes up.
Not out of obedience.
Out of necessity.
He smiled.
"That's better."
Nyra's chest rose and fell slowly. She focused on her breathing again, trying to steady the tremor that threatened to take over her body.
One. Two. Three.
But something felt… wrong.
Different.
There was a pressure building behind her eyes, like a storm gathering in a place it didn't belong. It wasn't pain. Not exactly.
It was something sharper.
Something alive.
"You're shaking," he said, tilting his head. "Afraid?"
Nyra swallowed.
She was afraid.
But not in the same way.
Not like before.
The pressure grew.
Her heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but from something deeper. Something that didn't feel like it belonged to the girl sitting on the floor.
"Answer me."
His hand lifted again.
Nyra saw it coming.
And for a second—just one second—something inside her reacted.
Not her body.
Something else.
The pressure snapped forward.
Invisible.
Violent.
He was thrown back.
Not far. Not enough to hurt him.
But enough.
Enough for him to stumble.
Enough for both of them to freeze.
Silence filled the room.
Nyra's eyes widened.
She hadn't moved.
Her hands were still at her sides.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He stared at her.
For the first time, there was no amusement in his expression.
Only confusion.
Then anger.
"What did you do?"
Nyra shook her head slightly, her voice barely a whisper.
"I didn't—"
The second hit came harder.
Her body slammed against the wall, pain exploding through her ribs. The air was knocked out of her lungs as she collapsed onto the floor.
"You think this is a game?" he snapped, stepping toward her again. "You think you can fight me?"
Nyra tried to breathe.
Her chest burned.
Her head spun.
"I didn't—"
"Liar."
His boot struck her side.
Everything went white.
Pain swallowed the room. The walls. The sound of her own voice trying to scream.
The pressure was gone.
Whatever had moved inside her had vanished as quickly as it came.
Like it had never existed at all.
"Stay where you belong," he said coldly.
Then he turned and left.
The door slammed shut.
The lock clicked.
Silence returned.
Nyra didn't move.
She couldn't.
Her body lay curled on the floor, shaking, her breath uneven, her vision fading in and out. The pain was familiar. Too familiar.
But something else lingered.
Something she couldn't ignore.
He had moved.
She knew it.
She hadn't touched him.
And still… he had moved.
Hours passed.
Or maybe minutes.
Time didn't matter in that room.
When Nyra finally opened her eyes again, the darkness had deepened. The faint light from the small window told her night had fallen.
Her body ached with every breath.
Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself up.
The room spun.
She leaned against the wall, waiting for it to settle.
Her hand pressed against her chest.
Her heartbeat was steady again.
Normal.
But her mind wasn't.
"What was that…?" she whispered.
No answer came.
Only silence.
Nyra swallowed and shifted slightly, wincing as pain shot through her side. She forced herself to breathe slowly, trying to think.
She hadn't imagined it.
She knew she hadn't.
Something had come from her.
Something real.
Something… powerful.
A chill ran down her spine.
For years, she had told herself she was just like the others.
Just weaker.
Just unwanted.
But deep down… she had always known.
She wasn't normal.
She never had been.
Her eyes moved toward the small window.
Tomorrow.
The word formed in her mind before she could stop it.
Tomorrow.
Her birthday.
Eighteen.
Nyra's fingers tightened slightly against the wall.
She didn't know how she knew.
No one had told her.
No one had explained it.
But the knowledge sat inside her like something carved into her bones.
When she turned eighteen…
Her wolf would awaken.
The thought should have terrified her.
But it didn't.
Not completely.
Because what scared her more…
Was the fact that something else had already started.
Something that didn't feel like a wolf.
Something older.
Something wrong.
Nyra closed her eyes slowly.
And for the first time since she had been taken into this place…
She didn't feel small.
She felt something else.
Something waiting.
Something waking.
And somewhere deep inside her—
It was watching back.