Chapter 2

【Elsa POV】

The yellow eyes drew closer, and I frantically turned the key again. The engine sputtered, wheezing like an asthmatic in the cold air.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it." My knuckles whitened against the steering wheel. "Please. Please start. I can't die here. Not like this."

The car lurched and the engine roared to life. Relief washed over me for a fleeting second before I slammed the gearshift into drive. My trembling foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and the old Volvo fishtailed on the half-frozen mud before gaining traction.

A massive wolf emerged from the treeline, its dark fur nearly invisible against the night. I couldn't make out which of my tormentors it was in the darkness, but it hardly mattered. The game was always the same.

I sped down the winding road toward Ljusviken, the headlights cutting weakly through the forest gloom. My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I feared it might burst. In the rearview mirror, I caught glimpses of movement—the wolf, keeping pace impossibly well on the muddy shoulder.

A howl ripped through the night, bouncing between the towering pines and spruces, promising pain.

"This is all just a familiar, disgusting game," I muttered through clenched teeth. "I hate it. I never know when it's going to start; when someone's bored enough to hunt me. But it never ends well."

The wolf was gaining—they always did. Enhanced muscles, primal instincts, the joy of the hunt. I was just prey with a temporary mechanical advantage. My ears filled with the rushing of my blood and the desperate whine of my overtaxed engine.

The distinctive stand of tall pines marking the boundary of Svartskogens territory came into view. My breath caught in my throat. Mother and Father wouldn't come outside to save me, even if I were being torn apart on the front lawn—but if I could make it inside the house, that would be different. No one would dare show disrespect in the Beta's home.

I skidded to a halt at the end of our long driveway, the car sliding sideways in the slush. Killing the engine, I fumbled for my keys, dropping them twice before securing them in my shaking grip. My legs felt like rubber as I stumbled out of the car.

"Almost there. Just a little further—"

The scent hit me first—wet fur and anger. I spun around to see the wolf standing just steps away, teeth bared and gleaming in the moonlight. The reddish-brown coat was unmistakable up close.

Thorvald Molm.

He wasn't lunging, not yet. Just watching me, yellow eyes tracking my every move, savoring the hunt like the final bites of a rare steak. He'd give me the chance to make it inside. That was part of his sick enjoyment.

I backed toward the house, fumbling with my keys as I kept my eyes on him. My heart nearly stopped when I felt the solid wood of the front door against my back. Tonight was a temporary reprieve; I'd cherish it.

Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, trying to calm my racing heart. Through the window, I could see my car—the windshield cracked from the impact with my head, the front bumper twisted from the ditch. My only connection to the outside world, damaged. The repairs would eat into the savings I'd carefully accumulated from my shifts at Kafebonor.

"Elsa. Come here."

My father's voice cut through the silence of the house.

"Damn it."

My stomach twisted as I made my way to the living room.

Father sat in his favorite leather armchair, his face expressionless as stone. Mother stood behind him, her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder, never meeting my eyes directly. I kept my head down, eyes focused on Father's polished boots. Neither of them acknowledged my injured wrist.

"You will attend the Manegalning this year," Father stated. "I trust you've earned enough from your job to dress appropriately. Be grateful our Alpha allows you such a luxury."

I controlled my expression carefully, not daring to reveal my shock.

"Bjorn and Astrid will also be there, so ensure you don't embarrass us."

With that, he stood and left the room, his purpose fulfilled. Mother stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"At least try not to act like a complete outcast, Elsa," she said, her hand hovering near my shoulder but never quite touching it, as if my wolflessness might be contagious.

"Of course. I'll behave appropriately," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Astrid will take you shopping. Do something about your hair. Buy something decent. You've earned enough from that coffee shop, yes?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Don't buy anything cheap. Remember you represent our family. And for my sake, try to avoid having bruises where people can see them. You'll make our Pack look like savages."

She left, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering behind. Once, she'd smelled like home to me—like safety. I barely remembered those days.

The Manegalning—the Moon Ritual—spanned the entire Scandinavian region, drawing unpaired werewolves to seek their fated mates. Officially, it was presented as relaxation following the political discussions, but everyone knew its true purpose. Marriages between high-ranking shifters formed alliances, introduced new bloodlines, and strengthened connections between Packs.

The Svartskogens Pack had historically avoided such gatherings. Even Astrid had never attended one. The official story involved grudges with other Alphas, but I suspected our Pack's obsession with bloodline purity was the real issue. Father's frustration at being required to attend had been obvious.

Alone in the hallway, I allowed myself a small smile. The Manegalning—a rare opportunity to experience something beyond this suffocating world. Maybe I would pair with someone and leave this place behind. Maybe everything would change.