C14 Cinderella among the wolves

I spat out a mouthful of dirt, the gritty taste clinging to my tongue. The world felt wrong—distant and muffled, and I couldn’t quite place what was happening. My hands fumbled to wipe my eyes clear of soil, but the dirt only seemed to spread. I cursed Fenrir under my breath. Why the hell had he sent me back without any warning?

The cold seeped into me, creeping through my skin and curling around my bones. I could feel my heart racing, the beat so loud in my chest it threatened to drown out everything else. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how afraid I was of being trapped—of being buried alive. But now, as the weight of the earth pressed down on me, it was the only thing I could focus on.

With desperation clawing at my throat, I forced my body to move, scraping my fingers through the dirt. I kept my mouth shut, my eyes squeezed tight, and pushed forward, my head down. Finally, light flickered behind my closed eyelids. The air smelled fresh, clean, and I gasped for breath, taking it in as if it might slip away from me again.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, coughing dirt from my lungs.

I blinked, looking around at the serene landscape, still trying to make sense of it all. The white marble gravestones, the neatly tended flowerbeds, the tall, elegant chapel in the distance. Birds sang from the trees, and squirrels darted about like they had no idea the dead were rising again. The breeze was sharp against my bare skin, a reminder that I wasn’t wearing anything at all.

I didn’t need to read the headstones to know where I was. This was Mori, the cemetery for shifters. And somehow, I was standing in the middle of the wolf section, between the stone that marked Alpha Mondo’s resting place and the plaque where we’d scattered Dad’s ashes. My own grave was nothing more than a shallow hole, unmarked, a mute statement that my existence had amounted to nothing at all.

I pushed myself to my feet, struggling to shake the dirt off, still trying to make sense of my situation. This wasn’t an official burial site. I’d never had a marker, not that I deserved one. Mum, though—she would’ve made sure it was proper. For her, if not for me.

A shout echoed from across the cemetery, cutting through the silence like a knife.

My heart lurched in my chest.

Shit.

I spun toward my grave and saw the black fabric of a reaper’s cloak half-buried in the dirt. Panic rose, sharp and immediate, but I didn’t have time to think. I grabbed the cloak and threw it over my shoulders, then ran. My bare feet slapped against the soft grass as I sprinted, weaving between statues, ducking behind headstones, and hopping over the low ones in my path.

The graveyard was expansive, and I needed to get out, fast. I veered toward the edge, where the side road ran parallel to the cemetery. This stretch was used for deliveries and, sometimes, for transporting bodies. It led around to an alleyway that connected to Nivalis Row, and from there, to the rodent district.

If I could just make it home without being seen, maybe I could figure out what the hell was happening to me.

I kept moving, my breath quick and shallow. Whoever had shouted at me seemed to have stopped. I didn’t hear any more calls, so I assumed they were investigating my grave. I pulled the edges of the cloak tighter, hoping its dark fabric would help me blend into the shadows. I stayed close to the juniper trees, their pungent scent masking my presence.

But then, a sudden tremor of fear ran through me. I brought a trembling hand to my neck, my fingers brushing over the skin where there should’ve been a gaping wound. The memory of what had happened—the blood, the burning agony—was still fresh, but now there was nothing but smooth skin. I felt the edge of my collarbone, then moved up toward my jaw.

My breath caught. Whoever had fixed it… wasn’t me.

My wrists… I looked down, expecting to see the deep slashes where they’d been torn open. But there was nothing. The skin was perfect, no marks, no scars. It was as if I had never died at all.

I swallowed hard, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. Last night hadn’t been a nightmare, a hallucination, or a vision. It had been real. I had shifted into something monstrous. I had been hunted. I had died. And now… now I was standing here, alive, with no answers.

Had Fenrir done this? Had he pulled me back from the brink?

The sound of footsteps stopped me in my tracks.

“Ayla?” The voice was small, unsure, but it made my heart leap into my throat.

I stumbled back, hand clutching my chest as my pulse spiked in panic. “Who’s there?”

From the other side of the trees, Phina pushed through the branches, her wide eyes locking onto mine. She froze, her mouth hanging open as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Is that really you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thumping of my heart.

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting nervously from side to side. A cold knot settled in my stomach, the remnants of a trust that had been shattered when my own pack had turned on me. How could I believe anyone after what happened?

Phina took a cautious step forward, her hand trembling as she reached toward me. “Are you real… or a ghost?”

I recoiled instinctively, my chest tightening. “Don’t touch me.”

She jerked back, her eyes wide with apology. “Sorry. I— I didn’t mean to…”

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. Neither of us moved, both unsure of what to say next. Phina had always been a quiet, kind girl. I’d kept my distance from her, though, not wanting her to get swept up in the mess of everything that had happened to me. Neutrals, like Phina, were treated like they were beneath the dirt we walked on by the more powerful shifters, and she had enough trouble already without me adding to it.

“I saw what happened last night,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stiffened. “You saw?”

She nodded, her face pale. “Mum and Dad were at the grill for the mixer. I was just… I wanted to see if you ended up with Dolph.” Her shoulders rose in a helpless shrug. “I didn’t think I’d see... that.”

I swallowed again, my throat dry. "What did you see?"

Phina seemed to shrink under my gaze, her hands fidgeting in her hair. “At first, I didn’t see much. But then… I saw you running. Your wolf— it was huge, way bigger than most females. And there was this strange kind of magic around it, like it wasn’t... normal.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I pressed my hand over my mouth, holding my breath, hoping she would keep going.

She looked down, her fingers trembling as she continued. “Some of the enforcers chased after you, and your mum tried to go after them, but Frida— she grabbed her, told her they had to go to the shaman, that he could bring you back.”

I exhaled slowly, my chest tight. “So she’s the one who threatened Mum?”

Phina nodded, her eyes wide. “She said you couldn’t be lost. Not like that. They said you were already unconscious when they took you to the altar… and then the Norse alpha— he demanded they give your monster to Fenrir.”

My head fell forward, a heavy weight settling in my chest. “What did Alpha Zayden say?”

There was a long pause, and Phina wouldn’t look at me, her gaze darting anywhere but at me. The silence was suffocating. She had been there, I knew it. She’d heard what the shaman had announced. The bond between Beowulf and me. The connection that ran deeper than anything we could’ve imagined.

Finally, she spoke, her voice small but steady. “The Norse alpha… he threatened to take away our people if our alpha didn’t agree. Our alpha… he agreed. For the alliance.”

Bitterness surged up in me, bitter and foul. The revelation hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My wolf—my spirit—had been torn from me, sacrificed, and now I was left to deal with Fenrir’s demands. I could feel the loss of her, the grief threatening to overtake me, but she was gone. Gone to a god, and I was stuck with the aftermath.

I clenched my teeth, my hands balled into fists. “Who slit my throat?”

“The shaman did it,” Phina replied, her voice breaking, as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. “They needed your blood. They said it was to sever your wolf from you, and…” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

I looked at her, my chest tightening. “What?”