The Lost Queen

Chapter Two

Daya's P.O.V.

I walked up the steps to hell—or school. Same difference. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath from running the entire way here. Sure, I'm part wolf, but not shifting or connecting with my wolf might as well make me human.

This school is a mix of humans and werewolves, but there are more wolves since multiple packs live in this area.

The most dangerous pack, with the fiercest Alpha in Florida—and maybe the whole damn country, excluding the Royals—is the Crimson Moon Pack. Their Alpha, Kaden Damon Stone, is a name whispered with fear. His pack is ruthless and merciless, known for attacking other packs to expand their territory. Discipline in their pack is brutal; I've heard stories of wolves being chained with silver for even minor offenses. Silver, the ultimate weakness for a werewolf, is a form of torture I can't even imagine enduring.

The stories I've heard about Crimson Moon send chills down my spine.

I reached the school door, threw it open, and ran to my locker. My fingers fumbled as I shoved books in and grabbed the ones I needed. Time was slipping through my fingers. Again.

After slamming the locker shut, I bolted to my first-period class. By the time I reached the door, I was doubled over, hands on my knees, gasping for air. Being late was my least favorite thing. Walking in late meant interrupting the class and enduring everyone's stares—like I'd committed some unforgivable crime.

I glanced at my phone. 8:00 a.m. Damn, I was late as hell.

I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and slowly opened the door.

Mrs. Scott, my 40-something African-American biology teacher, was one of the few kind faces in my life. Her brown eyes widened in surprise as I slipped inside.

"Ms. Grace, why are you late?" she asked, her tone curious rather than harsh.

"Um... I woke up late. I'm sorry. It won't happen again," I whispered, keeping my head down. The room was filled with snickers, but I refused to meet anyone's gaze.

"It's okay, Daya. You may take your seat," Mrs. Scott said gently, motioning for me to sit.

I hurried to my usual spot in the back corner. As I passed by, some students stuck out their feet, trying to trip me. Others whispered insults under their breath. I ignored them, as always, and focused on making it to my desk in one piece.

Once seated, I took out my notebook and pencil, ready to disappear into the lesson. But as Mrs. Scott spoke, my mind wandered.

I wondered what it felt like to be loved. To have friends and family who genuinely cared about you.

I couldn't wait to find my mate.

A mate is someone chosen for you by the Moon Goddess, created to love and protect you. Most wolves find their mates around their 18th birthday, though some find them earlier.

In three weeks, I'd turn 18. That's when I planned to run away.

I didn't know where I'd go, but anywhere was better than here. I had to leave before they killed me—or I ended up taking my own life.

Something inside me told me I was meant for more. My wolf had been trying to reach out, to tell me something important, but the medicine my parents forced me to take kept her silenced.

I glanced down at my wrist, where my marking lay. My fingers traced the slightly raised skin of the mysterious symbol. No other wolf I knew had markings like this after their first shift. My parents had tried everything to remove it, even burning it with silver. But the mark always healed and remained.