The Fated Book 2: Vicious Fury
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Mackenzie Madden
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1,0M
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70
Prologue
Book 2: Vicious Fury
CLARA
âTonight, youâre on kitchen duty.â
Clara spun around, her eyes wide as she faced her mother. âMom, no! I was planning to hang out with Lucy!â She instantly regretted her toneâtoo sharp, too annoyed. She wished she could take back her words, but judging by the flush on her motherâs face, it was too late.
Her mother stood frozen in the kitchen, two mugs in her hands, in the midst of preparing their traditional Friday night hot chocolates. âDid you actually ask me about going out with Lucy? Because I mustâve missed that conversation.â
âWellâŚnoâŚâ Clara slumped back onto the couch, her arms crossed in a huff. She knew sheâd already lost this battle, but that didnât mean she wouldnât try. âI was going to ask after the movie. Lucy really needs some girl time, and I know you want me to be the awesome, supportive friend that I am.â
She could practically hear her motherâs eye-roll from across the room. âJesus, darling, lay it on a bit thicker, would you?â
There was a pause, and Clara huffed, regretting that sheâd come down for the movie in the first place. She didnât mind kitchen duty on most days, but not tonight.
âI thought youâd enjoy it. Youâre turning into quite the baker.â Her mother paused before adding, âThe worst that could happen is you might lose a finger. Or two.â
Clara rolled her eyes. As an only child, she was used to her parentsâ overprotectiveness, but if she gave them an inch, theyâd wrap her in bubble wrap and never let her leave the house.
âMom, Iâm terrible at cooking, and you know it. I either add too much spice, not enough, or I forget ingredients altogether. Henry was complaining the other day that Iâm the only person he knows who can actually burn water.â
âYou burned water?â her mother echoed. She walked into the living room with two steaming mugs and a raised eyebrow. âHow do you evenâ?â
Clara cut her off with a huff. âI was just boiling water for pasta!â She looked away from her motherâs amused smirk, trying to suppress her own smile. âI kind of, maybe, forgot about itâand then the water boiled dry, and the pot started smoking.â
Her mother bit her lip, her eyes sparkling as she set their drinks on the coffee table and sat next to Clara. âThat does sound like something youâd do.â
She reached over, smoothing Claraâs hair. âI just want you to be confident in your role within the pack. I know itâs hard for you sometimes, but setting yourself up early will mean you always have a place and one where you wonât get hurt. There must be something else youâre interested in right now that doesnât involve leaving or transferring when youâre of age.â
âI told you, Dadâs been teaching meââ
âNow, you know how I feel about that tech stuff,â her mother interrupted, giving Clara a stern look. âIt has its place, but it canât be the only thing you do. Itâs not the only thing your father does, either,â she reminded Clara pointedly.
Clara sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. âWhy are we talking about this now? Iâm only seventeen; I have time.â
She rested her cheek on her knees, looking at her mother suspiciously. âWhoâve you been talking to?â
Her mother picked up her hot chocolate, blowing on it and avoiding Claraâs gaze.
âMom.â
She let out a huff, a perfect imitation of Clara, before grumbling, âTheresa.â
Clara sighed, leaning against her motherâs shoulder. âNothingâs set in stone. Iâm curious about the courses I could take and which ones would require physical attendance. Iâm good with computers, and I know that I could find a way to use that to help the pack.â
âDad does it for fun, Clara,â her mother said, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. She set her drink down and wrapped an arm around Clara. âItâs not a job, even in our pack. You need to find a role where you can contribute. Everyone has a responsibilityââ
âIn the pack. I get it, Mom.â Clara sighed. This conversation was all too familiar. âI just wish youâd let me prove myself.â
âThatâs fine and dandy, but your dad and I would feel more at ease if you stayed closer to home.â
Clara straightened up, looking at her mom in surprise. âDad agrees with you? Since when?â
Her mom skillfully dodged the question, a tactic she often used when she didnât like the direction of the conversation. âYouâre my only child, honey, and youâre just seventeen. You canât possibly understand how much you mean to me. To us.â
âI know,â Clara mumbled, but her mom continued to talk over her.
âIf you decided to leave or transfer, we wouldnât hold it against you. Every shifter should explore the world and find their placeâbut you know how much family and pack mean to us. Weâd be lost if you leftâŚâ
Clara let out a heavy sigh as her momâs voice trailed off, stopping herself before she could delve deeper into that familiar guilt trip. She was clearly aware that she was pushing Claraâs buttons.
She reached out, placing a hand on top of Claraâs. âHoney, weâre just worried about you. If you went off to school, what if something happened? Who would protect you? Humans can be unpredictable. Youâd be hours away, and we wouldnât know if you were in trouble.â
Clara snorted at the thought, her wolf finding the idea of humans posing a threat amusing. She might be a submissive juvenile, but she wasnât toothless. Humans were often wary of what they didnât understand, which meant they usually avoided shifters.
Shifters were guided by their animal instincts, often prioritizing them over human reasoning. Silver River was a pack of wolf shifters, and humans generally steered clear of any predatory shifterânot that her pack spent much time around humans.
Before Clara could respond, an alarm started blaring through their home. It echoed through the rooms, causing her to flinch.
Her mom jumped up, then froze, her eyes distant as she mind-linked with someone. Clara watched her, waitingâthe piercing sound of the alarm already causing a headache.
Her mom gasped, her head snapping back. She looked pale as she turned to Clara, her voice firm. âStay here.â
In an instant, Claraâs usually overbearing mother was replaced by a dominant soldier. Her mom headed for the door. âI need to find your father. The entire pack is on lockdown, so make sure the front door is locked behind me. Use the deadbolt and donât open the door for anyone but us, even if you think you trust them.â
That was a lot to take in. Clara quickly followed her mom, trying to catch her before she left.
âWhat does that mean? Whatâs happening? Whereâs Dad?â
âI donât have time to explain. Just do as I say, Clara.â
She turned to give Clara a shaky smile, which did nothing to reassure her before she gently touched Claraâs cheek. âIâll be back as soon as I can. Stay here, stay safe.â
Clara stood frozen by the door long after her mother had left, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the still-blaring alarm. Finally, she took several deep breaths before reaching out to set the deadbolt.
She backed away from the door slowly, half expecting someone to burst through it at any momentâwhich was absurd because they were in their quarters deep in the Silver River den. This was the safest place for any of them, but the alarm was still blaring, and somewhere outside the door, Clara could hear shouts and howls, but she couldnât make out what they were saying.
She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as she trembled, her wolf quiet and alert. Sheâd heard the alarm go off like this before, but only during drills, preparing for a potential emergency.
This wasnât just a practice run. Clara had a gut feeling that something awful was unfolding.
Her parents were both warriors in the pack, a common trait for two dominant wolf shifters. What was uncommon, however, was that this mated pair had only one offspring, Clara, who was their polar opposite.
Clara was a submissive wolf, a trait that had been evident from her early years. Everyone in the pack had accepted that she wouldnât be following in her parentsâ warrior footsteps.
It wasnât unheard of for a submissive wolf to train as a warrior, but it was clear that this wasnât Claraâs destiny. She was too gentle, too tender-heartedâtraits her parents never made her feel inferior for, but she still felt it, especially when she compared herself to her peers.
She despised the feeling of being a letdown to her parents, as if her genetic makeup had somehow failed them and she was disappointing them just by being herself.
Clara sank back into the couch, her gaze fixed on her rapidly cooling hot chocolate. How much time had passed since her mom had left? Ten minutes? Fifteen?
Surely, her mom would be back any moment now. She was just locating Dad, figuring out what was happening, and then sheâd return.
As she glanced at the clock hanging above the TV, Clara cringed. It had only been six minutes.
Her knees jittered anxiously as she mulled over her momâs words. Clara was not one to defy orders, but her curiosity and fear were battling her innate submissive tendencies.
