Chapter 4 CHAPTER 4

Anya Pov

The cold, damp dirt is the first thing I feel on my feet as I walk into the forest. I am alive. The revelation is still a shock, a brutal return to a world I thought I'd left behind.

My body, which should be broken and bleeding, feels oddly whole. My limbs moving with an effortless grace that is terrifyingly foreign. My senses are a chaotic mess.

I can hear the gentle rustle of a leaf fifty feet away, the tiny skittering of a mouse in the underbrush, the gentle hum of an ancient tree. The scent of pine and damp earth is so sharp it burns my nose.

I stagger through the trees, my only goal to find shelter, a place to hide. My mind is a storm of confusion. I remember the pain, the mockery, the merciful darkness, and then… a warm light. The voice of a goddess. A magnificent white wolf. What was that?

A voice, clear and cold, cuts through my head. It's a presence, a separate entity residing in my mind.

You are not weak anymore.

Who are you? My thoughts are a whisper, a tremor of my old self. Why are you in my head?

I am your wolf. You can call me Nyx.

Nyx. The name feels like something powerful and dangerous. But I am still terrified. My life has been submission and pain. This raw power is a stranger to me. It feels dangerous.

What is happening to me? My body… what did you do?

The Luna's essence chose you. It waited for the rejection. Now we are one.

But why? I was just an omega. Why me?

You are not ready for the answers. The voice is cold and dismissive, as if scolding a child.

I have a right to know! My frustration boils over, a hot wave of anger I've never felt before.

You have nothing. Not yet. Focus on surviving. The past is a memory. This is your new reality.

I keep walking, my body fueled by an instinct that is no longer my own. My heart pounds in my chest, a rhythm of survival. Every step is deliberate.

My new senses pick up on the smallest details, a snapped twig, a misplaced stone. I am not searching blindly for shelter; I am a hunter. I feel it in my bones.

I find a small, hollowed-out log, big enough for me to curl inside. I'm exhausted, but Nyx’s voice is a constant sound in my mind, a relentless energy that keeps me from resting.

Please. Just tell me what's going on. I plead, tears stinging my eyes.

Rest. You will need your strength. The night is long, and the forest is full of predators.

I curl into the log, my body still humming with power. The air outside grows colder. I try to close my eyes, but I can't. Nyx is on high alert, her presence is not something you cannot notice.

Suddenly, a new scent. A rank, unfamiliar odor of stale blood and aggression. There are wolves. Three of them. They emerge from the trees, their snarls low and menacing. Rogues. They are skinny and desperate.

"Look what we have here," one of them sneers. "A pretty little snack."

"She's a pack wolf," another growls. "Look at the dress."

My heart hammers, but it's not from fear. It's from a cold growing rage. The wolf in my head, Nyx, is no longer just a voice. She's a predator, watching and waiting for their next move.

Let them come. We are not a snack. We are the feast.

I step out of the log, my body filled with muscle and bone. They stop in their tracks, their cruel smiles fading into confusion. They expected a terrified omega. They did not expect what they saw.

They lunge, their attack filled with teeth and claws. The first one leaps at my throat. My body moves on its own, a powerful instinct taking over. I duck and pivot, my hand shooting out to grab his jaw. I feel the bones shatter under my grip. A wet crunch. He falls, whimpering. I don't look at him. My eyes are already on the next one.

The second is on my back. Its claws tear at my skin, but the pain is a dull ache. I've gotten worse than a claw as punishment before, so this doesn't move me.

I throw myself back, crushing him against a thick, ancient tree. I hear a satisfying crack as his ribs snap. He collapses, gasping. I turn my back on him. I am a monster. I can feel the energy coursing through me. I want more.

The third wolf, the brute, hesitates. His eyes are wide with disbelief, with fear. He saw what I did. He saw a small, fragile human woman dismantle his friends with a casual, terrifying efficiency.

He snarls. "Who are you?"

My voice, when it comes, is a cold, flat whisper. "I am not an omega."

I feel my own snarl. It is not human. It is something different and powerful. I launch myself at him. He is strong, but I am faster.

My fists hit him with a strong force. My claws, long and sharp, tear at his throat. He chokes on a scream.

The last sound he makes is a gurgle. He falls. I stand over his body, panting, the adrenaline surging through me.

The silence of the forest is heavy, broken only by the sound of my ragged breaths and the scent of fresh blood. Their blood. It covers my hands, my arms, dripping from my hair. My sky-blue dress, once a symbol of fragile hope, is now stained red.

I fall to my knees, the strength finally leaving me. The fight is over. It was so fast. So easy. I stare at my blood-soaked hands, my trembling fingers. What have I done? I killed them. I felt no fear, only a cold, exhilarating power.

My hands rise to my face. I touch the blood, the slick, warm texture of it. A small, cold laugh bubbles from my throat. It turns into a low chuckle, then a full, manic laugh that echoes through the trees.

I look at my reflection in a puddle of muddy water. My eyes, once a fearful brown, now hold a wild, untamed fire. I see the blood on my face, the stains on my dress, and for the first time, I am not terrified. My lips, still wet with blood, stretch into a smile. A slow, chilling smile that I have never seen before. A sadistic smile. This is not me. This is what he created.

Who are they? Nyx whispers in my head, her voice filled with a chilling satisfaction.

Rogues, I think, my voice no longer a whisper, but a cold, clear thought that matches hers.

They saw a weak wolf. They saw prey.

No. We are hunters.

Yes. We are hunters. And this is just the beginning.