Isla woke with a gasp, her body tangled in damp sheets, her breath coming too fast. She pressed her hands against her chest, trying to slow her heartbeat. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. The nightmares always came in pieces. Sharp. Disjointed. Like shattered glass slicing through her sleep.
She could still feel his hands on her breasts.
Her own father’s hands.
The memory crashed over her like a wave, cold and suffocating.
She had been seventeen. Too young. Too scared.
It had been late. She had stepped out of her room, planning to sneak outside for air. But he had been there, waiting in the hallway.
His grip had been tight, his fingers digging into her wrist. He had smelled of wine.
"You’ve always been my favorite, Isla."
Garrick’s voice was smooth, almost affectionate, but she knew better. She had always known better.
"You’re the prettiest she-wolf here, you know that, don’t you?" His fingers trailed along the edge of her blanket, hovering just over her leg. "Give Daddy a little taste of you, sweetheart, and I'll give you anything you want.”
Isla wanted to vomit. Wanted to run. But she had learned long ago that freezing was the only way to survive.
His hand moved to cup her cheek—too slow. He was waiting, expecting her to lean into it.
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe evenly.
Her mind screamed for Lira.
"Help me. Tell me what to do. Please."
Silence.
Lira, the voice that had always comforted her, had always been there—was gone.
Just when she needed her most.
And then—a knock at the door.
Garrick jerked back, his body tensing as the moment shattered. Isla swallowed hard, forcing herself not to react.
Then her mother appeared.
For one fleeting moment, Isla had thought she was safe.
"You filthy whore!" Her mother yanked her hair and shoved her. "How dare you seduce your father?"
The words had hit harder than any slap.
Her mother hadn’t spoken to her for weeks after that. The punishments had come in waves. Long hours locked in her room. Days without food. Slaps that came out of nowhere.
Her father had never tried again. He didn’t have to. The damage was already done.
Now, in Crimson Fang, Isla pressed her fingers to her temples, forcing the memories away. But she could still hear Lira’s voice, whispering from the night before she fled.
"You were meant to be rejected by Kael… but…"
Then silence.
And then the anger came.
She clutched the sheets, her whole body shaking as she screamed into the darkness.
"Where were you?"
Silence.
"You’re supposed to protect me! You’re supposed to be my wolf!"
Nothing.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, furious, desperate.
"Say something, Lira! Say anything!"
Still, nothing.
Now, Isla was alone, trapped in a pack that didn’t trust her, carrying a past that refused to let her go.
She didn’t trust the Moon Goddess.
She didn’t trust the world.
And worst of all—she didn’t trust herself.
