Page 37 of Into the Dawn

I’ve avoided any kind of gathering here for years, and now, I remember why. These ceremonies always bring out the worst in our kind.

Primitive violence we pretend we've evolved beyond.

My anxiety skyrockets as my father leads me closer to the fire. The cloying smell of wood smoke swirling around us shrouds the compound in hazy mystery. The flickering amber light glows through the cloudy wisps, making it feel like we're staring down the end of the world.

Or at least, that's how it feels to me.

The moon hangs heavy and full above us, its pull making my skin crawl with the need to change, to run, to escape. And to find Ben.

"You're gonna stand right here," my dad says, pointing to a spot in front of the fire, facing out toward the rows ofseats. They’re half occupied but filling up fast as more and more clan members arrive in battered pick-ups or on the backs of scrambler bikes. They park haphazardly around the large campfire. Their vehicles are adorned with the clan's symbol: a snarling Lycan’s head surrounded by ancient runes that are supposed to grant protection and strength.

I could do with some of that right about now.

My toe meets something soft, nearly tripping me. When I catch myself, I stare at an old yet familiar patterned blanket that’s been laid on the dry earth before me. Dread crawls up my spine. The worn and filthy mating blanket, woven with symbols of binding and fertility, has been passed down through generations of forced unions.

Does my father really think so little of me?

I don't even want to imagine what purpose it’s supposed to serve in these archaic proceedings.

My father stands at my side, loving being the centre of attention as everyone hangs on his every word. The moonlight catches on the scars that mark his years as leader and the many attempts to overthrow him or resist his rules.

Raising his fingers to his mouth, he lets out a shrill whistle that cuts through the excited chatter of the crowd, silencing the gathering. The sound makes my inner animal whimper, knowing whatever horrible fate he has planned for me is about to start.

The drums stop. A car radio clicks off. All eyes land on me, some glowing amber in the firelight, betraying their beasts' interest in the proceedings. Among our kind, such loss of control would usually be seen as reckless, but there are no humans here.

And tonight, the normal rules don't apply. Tonight is about embracing our savage nature.

I clasp my hands together to keep from fidgeting and to hide just how uncomfortable I am. These people hate me. They probably think I deserve whatever’s about to happen just forwanting to live differently, for daring to suggest that maybe we don't have to live by laws written by cruel men.

But I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

"Ladies and gentlemen…" my father begins.

The words make me want to roll my eyes. There isn't a lady or gentleman in sight. They know what's about to happen, and they're here with their beers and snacks, ready to enjoy the spectacle.

The scent of alcohol mingles with wood smoke and sweat. It’s a nauseating combination that’s making my enhanced senses reel. It's so messed up. I can't believe I used to consider any of these people my family. No wonder I don't feel like I belong here. Anyone with half a conscience would see how sick and twisted this all is.

"You all know my daughter, Vanessa," my father continues. "And while I'm sure you're all here to see Ben King get his comeuppance…"

A chorus of cheers and shouts erupts, followed by the stomping of boots and loud whistles. The cacophony sends ripples of agitation through the gathering shifters. I can see it in the way some of them twitch and fidget; their beasts are beginning to stir at the display of aggression.

My father raises a hand, his frown impatient, and the crowd quiets. Their submission to his authority is absolute.

"We'll get to that," he says. "But you all know I like to reward my men where I can. So tonight, I've got more than one prize on offer. The winner of the fight will not only get to end the life of one of the arrogant King brothers, one of the men responsible for the death of our dear friend and brother, but they'll also win the hand of my lovely daughter. She's decided it's time to take her place among the clan and start a family."

An eerie silence follows as the crowd processes his words. The air’s grown thick with the mingled scents of interest, doubt,and naked ambition. I can see them working through the reasons why anyone would even want to mate with me as their beasts assess my worth as a potential mate, even while their human sides calculate their political advantages.

They're confused, and I don't blame them. They know full well what getting stuck with me means: a lifetime of misery tied to someone who can't stand to be anywhere near them.

My father sighs, listening to silence and realising he's going to have to spell this out for them. The moonlight glints off his ritual scars as he turns his head to addressing the crowd with the practiced ease of a man who’s used to manipulating others.

"That means…" he says slowly. "That whoever wins my daughter's hand becomes part of my family. And treated accordingly, once they sire the next generation, heirs to my throne."

A low murmur spreads through the group, growing louder as realization dawns on them. The scent of ambition grows instantly stronger, nearly choking me with its intensity.

Now, they understand.

Marrying me means becoming one of my father's right-hand men, a second son, even.

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