Chapter 2 Traces of Truth

My eyes opened to the biting teeth of the morning chill against my body, waking me up. My body ached and my muscles were sore as though I had stretched for days. My cheeks flushed as I raised my upper body to sit up before I realised that I was naked.

A thick piece of cloth had been placed over me, barely covering me enough. Someone had done this, but who was it? My heart pounded faster against my chest. Not from the humiliation from last night only, but from the energy moving through my veins. My mind went places, replaying the forest, the rogue, the fight, the alpha... the wicked transformation. Ugh!

I flung my legs over to the outer side of the cot that Rodrick gave me when we moved into this hideout. I laid my face on my palms as the word 'werewolf' screamed into my ears, echoing against everything that I had ever believed. I was human, I thought.

My memories fighting with reality. I could see my parents' faces, their soulless eyes as they lay on their own blood. I recalled the stories that Rodrick told me... how werewolves had killed them. Was it all lies? My belly twisted in pain.

The wooden door opened slowly as uncle walked inside. His dark eyes scanned me with a cold calculation that made me afraid to disobey him all these years. "Finally. You're awake," he said in a calm voice that sent chills running down my spine.

I looked at him, with anger and confusion fighting beneath my skin. "What did you do?" The words came out shaking despite my aim at sounding firm. "What happened in the forest?"

He lifted an eyebrow, as if trying my questions entertained him. "You've always had this gift, Arya. You just weren't aware of it. And last night, it was revealed."

I draped the blanket around me, and I grinned my chin a bit. "Gift?" I spat, my eyes squinting with anguish. "I was hunting werewolves and now... I am one of them?" My hands shook as I stared at them, my eyes still twitching from the memory of the shift."

One part of his lips curve into a half smile. "Yes, my dear. You're stronger than your enemies. And, stronger than you can ever imagine." Rodrick paused and looked around as if we weren't the only ones in the room. He came closer to my ear and whispered. "That's why you're ready for the next step."

I took in a deep breath, my legs shaking as I struggled to stand. "What next step?" My voice is low, filled with curiosity.

Rodrick's face became long with a frown. "Infiltration of the Whitestone Pack."

"What?"

"Yes, Arya. This was always part of the plan. Your shifting made it come... sooner than expected."

I felt my stomach twist again at his words. My fist clenched as I held myself deep within. He had given me a reason to train. My entire life. But now, the plan had changed in ways that I couldn't come to. "Why?" I asked.

"Well, it's because I didn't tell you the full story."

"What story?" I asked, reducing the distance between us.

"The royal family_ the king and queen to be precise, killed your parents." He said as he stood up from the wooden stool. I could see his gray hair clearly as I stood an inch taller.

"Why did they do that?" My eyes watered.

"For power," he replied, almost instantly. "Your parents were loyal to them and second in the kingdom. The king feared for his throne because the whole kingdom loved your parents. So... the royal family..."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" My voice was shaking with disappointment that I refused to admit.

His eyes flickered with concern. "I'm sorry, I only told you what you needed to hear at that moment. You were just five years old." He looked at me for a moment, like he was studying me.

"Listen Arya," he continued. "Your destiny is tied to mine. You are to get into the Whitestone kingdom and claim what's yours. Only then will you feel complete."

I folded my fists, my nails almost piercing my palm. I had always looked up to uncle, always obeyed him, yet I wasn't sure I could trust him completely.

"I... I'll go. The Whitestone pack? Sure, no problem." The words came out of my mouth like I was forced to.

Rodrick's lips curved into a thin smile. "As you should. You'll have to leave tonight. And listen, the pack may or may not accept. But Arya, you must be ready for anything."

I turned away, strolling around the small room. My mind raced, mixed with fear, anger and a little dose of excitement. I had trained to hate, to fight these beasts, to kill them. But now, I am one of them. A werewolf. And my wolf stirred with expectation.

I sat at the corner of my cot, my head buried in my hands. The memory of the alpha taunted me. The way he looked at me, past my mask. He didn't care about my past or present. All he cared about was his mate.

I shook my head, trying to let go of the memory. No. It can't be my reality. I didn't know the pack my mate belonged to. And yet, what I felt for him was something that I couldn't deny. My wolf who had no name stirred at the thought of it.

Rodrick cleared his throat, reminding me that he was still in the room. "You'll need weapons. Anything you can, to survive." He pointed at the edge of the room where a small wooden box sat. "They're daggers, and some protective clothes inside there. Use them."

I nodded, my fingers tracing the dagger blades. They felt comfortable as if they were an extension of my own hands. I knew that weapons alone would not save me. Survival was important.

"Arya," Rodrick said, his voice almost a whisper. "Always remember that nobody there can be trusted. Not even him—that's if he's there. He looked towards the window, though I could still feel his side eye on me through the shadows. "The pack warriors will challenge you. But do not ever lose strength.

My throat tightened, as I nodded. A mix of fear and will mingled beneath my breath. The pack kingdom was a mystery I hadn't solved yet. But one thing was clear—they were powerful.

Hours passed quietly as I prepared. In my leather vest, daggers strapped to my thighs. My heart pounded heavily with each activity.

When the crescent moon rose, I moved towards the end of the forest, leaving all I had known behind—Rodrick, my small room, our little wooden cottage that was far away from where other humans dwelt, like we were outcasts. The air was thick with cold as I felt my pulse quicken.

"Trust no one," my uncle's words echoed loudly in my mind.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The tree branches slapped me as I ran through the forest with each step bringing me closer to the Whitestone pack.