Chapter 2

Gwenda Holland's POV:

Three days after Devonta signed the mating contract, I walked out of my bedroom and sat down before the rusted tin mirror in the side parlor, lazily running a wooden comb through my wavy light-blonde hair.

The parlor door creaked open, and my cousin, Brenda Holland, swayed in holding an ornate mahogany makeup box. Her cloyingly sweet perfume filled the room, failing to mask the vicious jealousy glinting in her eyes.

"The Moon Goddess must be blind if she let a wolfless piece of trash like you hit the jackpot with an Alpha Commander," Brenda sneered, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

I barely looked up, my fingers smoothing out a rough crease on my sleeve.

"If you have something to say, spit it out. If not, close the door on your way out."

Brenda's fake smile stiffened on her face before she stepped quickly behind my chair and opened the box. Inside was a compact of ivory face powder with a faint metallic sheen.

Beneath the floral fragrance, I caught a sharp metallic scent. My training as a special-ops medic told me exactly what it was. It was high-purity silver dust ground into the powder—for a werewolf, silver was the ultimate lethal weakness, capable of badly burning the skin on contact.

"You need to look presentable. We can't have you embarrassing the regiment," Brenda said, scooping up a thick layer of the poisoned powder on a puff and shoving it straight toward my cheek. "Let me put this on you."

Outside the open window, several village women craned their necks, giggling and whispering about how an ugly, bloated girl like me could never match a high-ranking Alpha officer.

Just as the puff was an inch from the tip of my nose, my left hand shot out like a striking viper and clamped around Brenda's wrist joint. I twisted her wrist hard enough to dislocate it. Brenda screamed and dropped the box.

I caught the box before it hit the floor and pressed the silver-laced powder into her face.

Acrid white smoke curled from her skin with a hissing sound as soon as the silver touched it, and Brenda collapsed to the floorboards, thrashing wildly as blistering red sores erupted across her cheeks.

"My face! It burns! You bitch, you poisoned me!" Brenda howled, clawing frantically at her festering skin.

I casually dusted the stray powder off my fingertips and looked down at her writhing form.

"You tried to burn my face with silver on my wedding day. Did you really think I was utterly clueless?"

The gossiping village women outside the window turned pale as sheets, stumbling backward several steps as if they were staring at a demon from hell.

The parlor doors were suddenly shoved wide open, and my birth mother, Carie Downs, strode in wearing a heavy bearskin cloak, flanked by two burly warriors from her maternal clan. Without sparing a single glance at Brenda screaming on the floor, Carie rushed straight to my side and grabbed my hands to check my skin.

"My dear, are you hurt? If they've laid a finger on you, I'll tear this place apart!" Carie said, her warm hands trembling slightly as she looked me over.

The warmth from my mother's hands melted some of the ice in my chest.

"Mom, I'm fine. She just got a taste of her own medicine."

Arthur came running at the noise, and when he saw his niece's bloody, blistered face, he pointed a shaking finger at me in outrage.

"Gwenda! How dare you be so vicious to your own cousin!"

Carie spun around and slammed her open palm down onto the solid oak table, splitting a jagged crack right down the middle of the thick wood.

"Arthur! Bark one more word at my daughter and see what happens!" Carie roared, her fierce Beta aura making Arthur choke on his breath. "She tried to use silver on a Vanguard commander's bride! The only reason I haven't snapped her neck is out of respect for the Moon Goddess!"

At a sharp wave of Carie's hand, the two clan warriors grabbed the howling Brenda by her ankles and dragged her out into the yard like a dead dog.

Outside the courtyard, the low, rumbling roar of a heavy armored regiment transport echoed down the dirt road, rattling the windowpanes. Carie reached into her bearskin coat, pulled out an family heirloom wrapped in red silk, and carefully hung the refined gold-and-silver pendant around my neck.

"This belonged to your grandfather," Carie whispered fiercely. "Keep it safe. And don’t let anyone intimidate you."

As I walked out toward the yard, Acey stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, his eyes bloodshot as he awkwardly shoved a regiment bone charm carved with a wolf claw into my palm.

"The commander's family is full of snobs. They'll look down on you because you're wolfless," Acey muttered, wiping his face roughly with his sleeve. "When I get paid next month, I'll send you some money. Don't let them push you around."

I looked at the bone charm still warm from his hand, patted his armored shoulder once, and climbed up the steel steps into the armored transport as the convoy rolled out onto the dirt road.