Chapter 2 Crent Island

• Six Years Ago
• "Alpha, go, please. I will handle things here!"
• Gunther’s voice thundered through the narrow walls as he pushed his weight against the door, holding it shut against the violent bangs pounding from the other side.
• Something deadly lurked out there, something with claws, teeth, and enough rage to destroy everything.
• "Gunther, I cannot leave you—" Curtis’s voice cracked, torn between duty and the bond of brotherhood.
• "Save the children, please!" Gunther yelled. "Go now!"
• Their eyes locked in a silent farewell. One filled with unspoken gratitude, and the other with acceptance of his fate. Curtis knew, in that moment, he would never see his friend again.
• The attack had come without warning. What began as a simple family outing, Curtis, Vera, Stone, and Gunther tagging along to his golf game—turned into an ambush.
• Humans filled the grounds, so there was no shifting, no revealing who or what they were. Only blood, terror, and a desperate scramble to safety.
• Gunther had fought like a beast possessed, dragging them into a storage room at the back. But the attackers followed. And now, he was holding the last line, teeth gritted, arms trembling as the door nearly buckled behind him.
• Curtis had hesitated, his fists clenched, torn in half—until Gunther screamed one last time, “GO!”
• Curtis ran. With his children. While the door shattered behind him and Gunther was dragged into death.
• Gunther Reign died a hero, saving his Alpha and the pack’s future. Leaving behind his two twelve-year-old daughters, Tara and Taylor.
• Their mother had died after childbirth, and Gunther had raised them alone—his heart, his world, his pride. Gone now.
• When Curtis returned home that night, covered in blood that wasn’t his, he vowed one thing—to raise those girls like his own. To love and protect them the way Gunther would have.
• Months later, his wife Emerald succumbed to her illness, and just like that, Curtis had four children in his care—Stone, Vera, Tara, and Taylor. Different bloodlines, same home.
• They grew up not as separate, but as siblings. Bound not by blood, but by something far stronger, love, and the promise of a dying man.
• *Present Day*
• “A penny for your thoughts?”
• Tara’s soft voice pulled Curtis out of the dark place in his memory. He blinked, looking up as she walked in with a mug of coffee in her hands.
• She was so much like her father. Her calm presence, the way her voice could ground someone—pure Gunther.
• Curtis smiled, “Come here, honey.”
• She walked over and handed him the cup before settling down beside his chair. “You seemed too deep.”
• “Was just remembering Gunther,” he said with a sigh, his fingers tightening around the warm mug. “He would be so proud of the women you both have become.”
• Tara leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Wherever Dad is, I know he’s proud of you too, for loving us like you do.”
• Curtis smiled. A soft chuckle escaped him. He wrapped his arm around her. “Thank you. I love you guys.”
• “We love you too.”
• Their embrace was silent for a while, filled with unspoken healing.
• “Enough of the sober mood,” she teased gently. “Now… about the Crent Festival. Are we really going?”
• “Absolutely,” Curtis replied without missing a beat.
• She frowned a little, her brows knitting. “Are you sure? Taylor and I can stay back. I don’t want to be an embarrassment—”
• “Hey,” he cut in, facing her fully. “All four of my children are going, and that’s final. And who knows? You might find your mate there.”
• She rolled her eyes. “Wolfless girl finding her mate. Sounds kinda crazy, don’t you think?”
• Curtis laughed. “Whatever reason your wolves have for hiding, maybe we’ll find the answer there.”
• His words left her quiet. She wanted to ask more, but he was already rising from his seat and heading out, like he knew more than he was letting on.
• The day of the festival came with the sun riding high and excitement buzzing in the air.
• A few pack members joined them.
• They took Curtis’s private jet, followed by a convoy of luxury SUVs. The final leg of the journey had them boarding boats to cross over to Crent Island.
• “Oh my goddess!” Taylor squealed, her eyes wide. “This is going to be mad fun!”
• “We’re so having mad fun!” Vera echoed, laughing as they stepped onto the dock.
• Tara stood still for a moment, letting the salty breeze wrap around her. Despite the tugging feeling in her chest, she smiled. Seeing Taylor this alive, this joyful, warmed something deep inside her.
• The island was massive. Beautiful. Trees towered like guardians around the shore. The air shimmered with magic. Packs from all over had arrived, their tents and colors dotting the wide expanse like scattered stars. Each pack had its section, banners raised, bonfires lit, laughter echoing.
• The main festival ground stood at the heart of it all, surrounded by a ring of ancient stone statues. This was where the ceremonies, games, and challenges would take place.
• They arrived at their tent—a modern, luxurious setup with wooden floors, silk-covered beds, glowing lanterns, and a balcony that looked over the island. It wasn’t just a tent—it was a royal suite.
• “I love it here already!” Taylor threw her bag on the bed and twirled around.
• Vera gasped. “This ambiance is everything!”
• The two girls rushed to change into breezy shorts and cute tops, already planning their mingling strategy. In less than five minutes, they were out the door, giggling and giddy.
• Tara stayed behind, adjusting her tank top in the mirror. She sighed, brushing her fingers through her hair.
• Stone walked in without knocking. “You good?”
• She turned. “Yeah.”
• “You don’t sound excited.”
• She shrugged.
• He looked her up and down. “Nice outfit.”
• “Thanks.”
• “You should come out. It’s beautiful. And who knows, you might actually enjoy yourself.”
• She nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
• They stepped out together. The island was even more alive than before. Shouts of laughter, chatter, music. Werewolves from different packs mingled, played games, shared drinks.
• Tara inhaled the air, and for a moment, her worries faded. They needed this break, Vera, Taylor, even Stone.
• They made their way to where Curtis stood with Vera and Taylor. The girls were sipping from coconuts, grinning like children at a fair.
• A man stood beside Curtis, a new face. Curtis smiled. “Tara, this is Alpha Zane, from the Nightshade Pack.”
• Before Tara could respond, a deep sound tore through the air.
• A horn.
• Long and echoing.
• Everyone stopped. Silence swept over the island.
• From the mist above the water, shadows emerged—massive ships, three of them. Each carved from ancient wood, with the letter “F” painted boldly on the sails.
• The Frost Pack.
• Men stood on the decks, dressed in leather and fur, long braided hair and beards whipping in the breeze. They looked like they’d stepped out of time itself.
• Tara’s breath caught.
• Something pulled at her chest, tight and burning. Like her soul was screaming without making a sound.
• “The Frost Pack,” Curtis said, not taking his eyes off the ships.
• “We all thought their coming was it was rumor,” Zane muttered.
• “It’s not.” Curtis’s voice was low.
• Tara glanced at her father and Zane. The look they shared chilled her blood.
• Something was coming.
• And she had no idea if it would be beautiful… or dangerous.