"Samantha?" a young woman calls to me, her voice soft, warm, and familiar. "Come on, sweetie. You're going to miss the movie."
I push myself up from my spot on the floor, brushing my palms against my knees. "Okay, Auntie Ginny," I say, trotting after her. "But what movie are we watching?"
Aunt Ginny glances back at me, smiling as she takes my hand. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm not even sure," she sighs, clearly exhausted. "Cameran and Seraphina fought over it again. I just let them work it out. We'll see."
We walk toward the great hall, where all the pack's pups are gathered around a massive screen. Laughter fills the space—too loud, too excited. A strange warmth blooms in my chest, sudden and uncomfortable, but I rub at it absently, brushing it off.
The floor is littered with open bags of popcorn. Pups are yelling, chasing each other, weaving between bodies. In one corner, two female pups are arguing loudly.
"When I get my wolf," a young Seraphina shrieks, face red with fury, "I'm going to rip your low-ranking throat out!"
"You don't even have your wolf yet," Cameran snaps back, eyes blazing. "But you're still a bitch!"
"CAMERAN LYNN!" Aunt Ginny shouts, her voice sharp as it cuts through the room. "Language, young lady!"
"But Mom!" Cameran stomps her foot. "She is a bitch," she declares flatly, without a shred of remorse.
Seraphina gasps, scandalized.
Aunt Ginny pinches the bridge of her nose. "Go sit down," she says tightly. "Or you are going to the mating ceremony with your father."
Cameran groans but obeys, dragging her feet as she walks away.
"Gin—" Seraphina starts.
"Not now, Seraphina," Aunt Ginny cuts in.
"But—"
"Not now," she repeats firmly, raising a brow. "Or would you like me to mindlink your father?"
Seraphina grumbles, storms off, and drops into a corner.
Aunt Ginny exhales slowly. She looks down at me and leans closer, lowering her voice. "Don't tell anyone I said this," she whispers conspiratorially, smiling, "but that girl is a bitch."
I giggle, warmth blooming in my chest again—stronger this time.
As the night drags on, most of the pups either fall asleep or sit quietly watching the movie. I squirm where I'm sitting. The heat in my chest has intensified, spreading outward, uncomfortable now—wrong.
I stand suddenly.
"Where you going?" Cameran asks, grabbing my hand.
"To the bathroom," I whisper. "I don't feel good."
She lets go, nodding. "Okay."
As I walk through the corridor, the heat worsens. It coils tight in my chest, crawling under my skin. I whimper softly, my steps faltering. My body feels stretched—like it's too small for what's happening inside me.
What is wrong with me?
I barely make it into the bathroom before the pain hits.
It's instant. Explosive.
I scream.
Bones snap. My legs give out, and I crash to the floor, writhing as agony tears through me.
'MOMMA!' I scream through the mindlink, terror flooding my senses.
The heat surges violently from my chest into my hands—and then explodes outward.
Fire erupts along the walls.
Fast. Wild. Uncontrolled.
Smoke fills the room as flames climb higher, licking the ceiling.
Crack.
I scream again, sobbing, not understanding what's happening to me.
'DADDY! MOMMA!'
POP. CRACK.
Fur bursts through my skin.
Outside the bathroom, pups scream.
'SAMANTHA! WHAT'S GOING ON?!' My father's voice rings through my mind.
I can't answer. I can't breathe. I can only endure.
'BABY! BABY! WE'RE COMING! WHERE ARE YOU?!' My mother cries.
CRACK. POP.
I scream again.
Another blast of fire surges from me, wild and uncontrolled.
The smoke thickens, choking me. My lungs burn as panic claws at my throat. Something inside me snaps fully open—power roaring awake, ancient and terrifying, answering my fear before I can understand it.
The room goes dark.
"SAM! SAM! SAM!" my mother screams aloud now. "YOU HAVE TO RUN! RUN! DON'T LET THEM SEE!"
Debris crashes around us, flames devouring the walls.
I try to speak—but a broken, terrified canine whine escapes instead.
It's so hot.
"SAMANTHA!" my mother cries. "ARE YOU LISTENING?!"
"CLARA! CLARA! WHERE ARE YOU?!" my father yells from somewhere nearby.
Then my mother's voice softens—gentle, soothing, breaking my heart.
"Baby girl," she whispers. "Baby girl, you have to get up. Oh… look at you. You're so beautiful. Like snow."
I see her then.
Her leg is pinned beneath a burning beam.
'No,' I whimper. Momma—'
"You have to go," she says, voice shaking. "Don't let them see you. Don't let them break you… ahh—"
She cries out in pain.
"Go, my angel," she whispers desperately. "Go reclaim your throne, sweetie."
I stand—but instead of two feet, there are four.
The door bursts open. Daddy rushes in, eyes widening when he sees Momma trapped.
"Clara!"
"No!" she shouts. "Get her out! They can't see her!"
He hesitates only a second before nodding, grief and understanding tearing through him. He scoops me up around the waist—my white canine legs dangling helplessly.
He takes me toward the back of the building, away from the chaos, away from the others fighting the fire.
He sets me down outside the door.
He looks back once.
Then kneels in front of me.
"Sammy girl," he says softly, voice breaking. "Listen to me. You must keep quiet. Don't tell anyone what you are. Don't tell anyone what you can do."
He cups my face.
"Find the marked warriors if you can," he whispers. "The SilverFlame. That's where I'm from. If you get there, your uncle will protect you."
His voice shatters.
"I have to go back for your mom. But we will find you. I promise."
Tears stream down his face.
"I love you, Sammy girl. Do you hear me? I love you."
He straightens.
"Now," he says firmly. "Run."
Not fully in control of my body—
I run.