The Midnight Beating and Jasmine

Kira stood isolated on the far edge of the bustling dance floor, her thin shoulders hunched inward as she pressed her back against the cold, decorative plaster of the ballroom wall. The heavy, rhythmic bass of the music rattled the massive crystal chandeliers hanging high above the Onyx Moon Pack, but the celebratory vibrations did not reach the icy dread settling in her chest. She kept her eyes locked on the towering, ornate grandfather clock positioned near the grand double doors of the hall. The polished brass hands crawled at an agonizing pace. It was a quarter to midnight.

She just needed fifteen more minutes. Once the heavy chimes rang out to signal the midnight hour, she planned to wait exactly one more hour. Sixty minutes to ensure the drunken frenzy of the mating run consumed the pack members, leaving the perimeter unguarded. Sixty minutes to make sure the hallways were clear of wandering guards and handsy, unmated wolves. Then, she would slip through the servant's entrance in the kitchen, grab the worn canvas duffel bag hidden under the loose floorboards of her damp attic room, and run. She was going to run until her lungs burned and her legs gave out, leaving this hellhole behind her forever.

She had spent the better part of the evening dodging pawing hands and aggressive invitations to dance. The unmated males of the pack prowled the edges of the room, their eyes hungry, but Kira kept her chin tucked, blending into the shadows. Every time she tried to inch her way closer to the exit, hoping to get a head start on her escape, a heavy, oppressive gaze would pin her in place. Alpha Roderick. He stood across the room near the sprawling mahogany bar, surrounded by his inner circle, but his dark, cruel eyes always seemed to track her movements. Whenever their eyes met, a sneer would curl his upper lip, his glare promising severe punishment if she dared to step out of line.

Did he know what she was planning? Did he smell the anxiety rolling off her skin in waves? Or was he just keeping her on a tight leash, forcing her to stay and endure the mating ceremony to ensure she didn't humiliate him by running off before she found her mate?

It was a sick joke to the entire pack. Everyone knew Roderick despised her existence. Everyone knew he treated her as nothing more than an abused, unpaid maid, a punching bag for his foul tempers. Yet, no one knew why he kept her within the pack borders after her parents had been slaughtered.

There was a time, many years ago, when a younger, more naive Kira had clung to the desperate hope of salvation. She had dreamed of running away to find her mother’s original pack, praying her uncle—the Alpha of The Sapphire Dawn—would take her in. But when she turned thirteen, Roderick had cornered her in the kitchen, grabbing her by the hair and snarling the harsh truth into her ear. He told her that her uncle wanted nothing to do with her. He told her she was a burden, a worthless stray that even her own blood refused to claim.

The heartbreak had shattered her young soul. She had cried herself to sleep on her thin, lumpy mattress for days, the crushing weight of utter abandonment pressing down on her chest. But the tears eventually dried up, leaving behind a hardened shell of determination. It didn't matter if her uncle didn't want her. It didn't matter if she had no family left. She would just go rogue.

She would travel as far away from the stifling deserts of Arizona as her two feet could carry her. The world was vast, much larger than the suffocating borders of the Onyx Moon territory. For the past four years, her mind had been consumed by a single, shining dream. California. The sweeping coastlines, the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean, the endless horizon. That was her ultimate plan.

For the last two years, ever since Roderick had grudgingly agreed to pay her a meager wage for scrubbing his floors and washing his family's laundry, she had hoarded every single crumpled dollar bill. She skipped meals, she wore threadbare clothes, and she stashed her earnings in the dark. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to buy a bus ticket. It was enough to get her far enough away to find a diner job, save up some more, and finally reach the coast. Now, if the hands on the grandfather clock would just move faster, she could make her dream a reality.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, tuning out the loud chatter and clinking champagne glasses. She imagined the biting, salty ocean air filling her lungs. She imagined the gritty, warm sand beneath her bare toes. She imagined a life where she didn't have to look over her shoulder every ten seconds, anticipating a strike. She knew of a small, quiet rogue pack in southern California. Maybe she would offer her services there, or maybe she would just live as a lone wolf, surviving on her own terms.

What would it feel like to be truly alone, relying on no one but herself? She had never had a pack to protect her anyway. The Onyx Moon wolves turned a blind eye to the bruises blooming on her skin, ignoring the muffled cries coming from the Alpha's estate. Only the elderly cook ever offered her a scrap of attention, and that was usually just a harsh command to chop vegetables faster. Sometimes, Beta Tobias’s wife would leave a folded, hand-me-down sweater on the kitchen counter for her, a silent offering of pity, but the woman was too terrified of Roderick’s wrath to ever speak a word of comfort.

Kira no longer cared to figure out the root of Roderick’s intense, burning hatred for her. She had wasted her childhood trying to scrub the floors a little cleaner, trying to fold the laundry a little neater, hoping to earn a single nod of approval from the only father figure she had left. She had foolishly hoped he would eventually welcome her into the fold. But as she grew older, she noticed the deep cracks in his own family.

Vivica, Roderick’s daughter, was spoiled rotten and dripping in expensive jewelry, but Kira recognized it for what it was—a bribe to keep the girl quiet and out of her father's immediate sight. It explained Vivica's endless need for drama and attention. Nolan, the pack heir, fared slightly better, but he survived by staying as far away from the Alpha estate as possible, burying himself in warrior training or drinking in the nearby human towns. Kira envied Nolan’s freedom. He was the only person in this sprawling territory she might actually miss. They had played in the dirt together as small children, before Vivica’s toxic jealousy poisoned the well, forcing Nolan to distance himself to keep the peace. Kira didn't blame him. Drawing Roderick's attention was a dangerous game. Whenever the Alpha fell into one of his blind rages, everyone scattered.

A sudden, solid impact against her right shoulder snapped Kira out of her deep thoughts.

Her reaction was immediate and ingrained by years of physical trauma. Her entire body flinched, muscles snapping taut like a coiled spring. Her knees buckled inward, her shoulders hiked up to protect her neck, and her arms flew up, crossing over her face to shield herself from the expected heavy blow. She braced for the sting of knuckles, holding her breath, waiting for the pain.

But the blow never came.

Instead, a soft, frantic gasp filled the space between the loud thumping of the music. Kira slowly lowered her trembling forearms, her chest heaving, expecting to see a drunken pack warrior laughing at her terror. Instead, she found a strikingly beautiful woman staring back at her, her eyes wide with shock.

The stranger had rich brown hair laced with bright red highlights, tumbling over her shoulders in loose waves. She wore a knee-length, pale blue dress that hugged the soft curves of her body, standing out in stark contrast to the dark, heavy colors worn by the Onyx Moon females. But what struck Kira the hardest was the expression on the woman’s face. It wasn't pity. It wasn't mockery. It was genuine, unadulterated concern.

Kira took a quick, frantic step back, her eyes darting past the woman's shoulder to scan the crowded room. She needed to know if Roderick had seen the exchange. She spotted him still lingering by the mahogany bar, a crystal glass in his hand, his attention temporarily held by a group of visiting Alphas. Kira let out a shaky exhale, the tight knot in her chest loosening just a fraction, and turned her attention back to the stranger.

"Again, I am so sorry for bumping into you like that," the woman said, her voice smooth and melodic, laced with a sincere apology. She pointed a manicured finger over her shoulder toward a grinning, red-faced man stumbling near the punch bowl. "I was just trying to dodge Mr. Handsy over there and lost my footing."

Kira glanced at the swaying, drunk wolf and gave a stiff, jerky nod of understanding. She forced her arms to drop to her sides, though her fingers kept twitching, desperate to curl back into a defensive posture. "It is fine," Kira muttered, her voice raspy from disuse. "I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. That is on me."

The strange woman tilted her head, her warm eyes dropping from Kira's face down to her exposed collarbone, and then to her bare arms. The woman's brow furrowed. Kira's heart skipped a beat. She had spent an hour plastering cheap, thick concealer over her skin, trying to mask the dark purple shadows of old bruises and the fresh, tender yellow swelling on her bicep. But the harsh overhead lighting of the ballroom was unforgiving.

"The way you reacted makes me sad," the woman said softly, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely carried over the music. "You flinched like I was going to hit you."

Kira swallowed the thick lump forming in her throat, her right hand instinctively reaching up to rub the tender, swollen spot on her opposite arm. She didn't know what to say. People didn't acknowledge her pain. They looked right through it.

The woman took a slow, non-threatening step forward, extending a hand. "My name is Elysia Voss, from the Ironbark Pack in Oregon."

Kira stared at the outstretched hand for a long moment before hesitantly reaching out, letting her calloused fingers brush against Elysia’s soft palm. "Kira Vale. Onyx Moon Pack."

"Ah," Elysia smiled gently, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere lingering between them. "So this is your home territory. That will be nice when the clock strikes midnight and you meet your mate. Your father will already be here to celebrate with you."

The mention of her father felt like a physical blow to Kira's ribs. She dropped her gaze to the scuffed toes of her cheap, sensible shoes. She tried to summon her father's face, the curve of his smile, the deep timbre of his laugh, but the memories were washed out, faded like old photographs left in the sun. She could still recall the scent of her mother's hair—lavender and sweet rain—but even that was slipping through her fingers the older she got.

Kira slowly lifted her chin, meeting Elysia’s gaze. The older woman's smile had already faltered, replaced by a deep, empathetic knowing. Elysia understood she had stepped on a landmine.

"I am sorry if I hit a sore spot," Elysia murmured, her eyes softening. "When did he pass away?"

"In the last big pack war ten years ago," Kira replied, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. "I was eight. Both of my parents died that night."

The admission caused her throat to tighten painfully, a familiar burning sensation pricking the corners of her eyes. She refused to cry in the middle of the ballroom. She refused to show weakness where Roderick could see it. She swallowed hard, forcing the emotion down, and lifted the back of her hand to quickly swipe at her waterline, making sure not to smudge her heavy makeup.

"I am so sorry that I brought that memory back to the surface," Elysia said, genuine sorrow coloring her tone. "Those were dark times for all wolves. We lost many good people." She paused, her eyes sweeping over the crowded dance floor, watching couples press close together. She looked back at Kira, trying to inject some warmth back into the conversation. "But tonight is about new beginnings. You must be counting down the minutes to midnight, knowing your fated mate could be standing in this very room."

Kira’s spine stiffened. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened edge. She mimicked Elysia's movement, scanning the room, but her eyes held a fierce, unwavering determination. "Not at all. I have other plans. I do not want or need a mate."

The firm, defiant tone rolling off Kira’s tongue caused Elysia to blink in surprise. The young, bruised girl standing before her suddenly sounded exactly like her own twin brother, Evander. Evander carried that same stubborn refusal to accept the mate bond, though his reasons stemmed from arrogant independence, while this girl’s defiance seemed rooted in deep, unhealed trauma.

A sudden, fierce surge of protectiveness flared in Elysia’s chest. She looked closely at the young girl. The defensive posture, the layers of makeup failing to hide the physical abuse, the constant, terrified glances toward the mahogany bar. Someone in the Onyx Moon Pack was systematically breaking this girl, and Elysia had a very good guess who it was. Alpha Roderick’s reputation for a sour temper and ruthless violence was well-known among the visiting Alphas.

Elysia made a silent vow. She would not leave this broken girl behind. If Kira didn't find her mate tonight to pull her out of this hell, Elysia would take her. Evander would probably grumble and complain about taking in a stray, but he rarely denied his sister anything, and Elysia would make damn sure he agreed this time.

"You sound just like my twin," Elysia mused, a small, wry smile touching her lips. "It would be ironic if the two of you ended up as mates."

"I would reject him on the spot and carry on with my plans," Kira stated flatly, leaving no room for argument. "I do not need a male to save me. I am only standing in this room tonight because I was forced to be."

Wanting to end the conversation before she revealed too much about her escape, Kira took a step back, angling her body toward the far wall. But before she could slip away, Elysia reached out, her fingers gently wrapping around Kira’s forearm, stopping her in her tracks.

"When you make your move," Elysia said, her voice dropping an octave, serious and firm. "When you finally leave this pack behind... come to Ironbark. I will make a safe place for you."

Kira froze, the breath catching in her throat. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. A safe haven? A place where she wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open, listening for heavy boots on the stairs? It was everything she had ever dreamed of, yet the sudden offer terrified her. Nothing in her life had ever been handed to her with genuine kindness. There was always a catch. There was always a price to pay in blood and bruises. But looking into Elysia's warm, steadfast eyes, Kira wanted so desperately to believe the offer was real.

"I will think about it," Kira whispered, the words barely audible.

"That is all I can ask for," Elysia replied softly, releasing her arm.

"What is your pack like?" Kira asked, curiosity briefly overriding her fear.

"My brother Evander is the Alpha. He took over five years ago so our parents could travel. We are one of the most prominent packs on the West Coast, based right near Portland, Oregon. We have about nine hundred members and businesses stretching across Washington and California."

Elysia glanced around the room, her brow furrowing in annoyance. She was looking for Evander and that obnoxious woman, Vanya, he had dragged along. They had slipped away, and Elysia fully intended to hunt them down and drag her brother back to the main floor.

Kira’s mind raced. Nine hundred members. Legitimate businesses. It was a stark contrast to Roderick’s failing ventures and crumbling territory. Nolan would inherit a mess whenever he finally challenged his father for the Alpha title, though Kira wouldn't be around to witness the bloodbath.

"Kira!!"

The harsh, booming voice cut through the loud music like a gunshot.

Kira’s heart plummeted into her stomach, turning to lead. The blood drained rapidly from her face, leaving her skin ash-pale. She jumped, her shoulders pulling up to her ears, and spun around.

Alpha Roderick was stalking away from the mahogany bar, shoving a waiter out of his path. His chest heaved with each heavy step, his jaw locked in a furious sneer. When had he stopped talking to the Alphas? How had she lost track of him? Pure, unfiltered panic gripped her throat, choking off her air supply. Would he hit her in front of all these visiting dignitaries?

Yes. He would.

Elysia watched the approaching man, her lip curling in deep disgust. This was the monster Kira feared. This was her Alpha, the man sworn to protect every member of his pack, using his power to batter a young girl. The blatant abuse made Elysia’s blood boil. She needed to find Evander immediately. Her brother despised weak men who used their fists on women.

Elysia turned her head, catching the sheer, raw terror radiating from Kira’s wide, trembling eyes. She didn't want to leave the girl alone with the monster, but she knew standing her ground would only provoke Roderick into punishing Kira worse later. Elysia reached out, giving Kira’s arm one last, reassuring squeeze, a silent promise to return with help, and slipped quickly into the dense crowd.

Roderick watched the strange woman walk away, a low, guttural growl vibrating in his chest as he closed the final distance. His mind raced with paranoia. What had the useless stray been whispering about? What lies was she spreading to the visiting packs?

He reached Kira in three long strides. His eyes flashed from their normal brown to a pitch, endless black as his enraged wolf clawed its way to the surface. He didn't say a word. He just reached out with a massive, meaty hand and clamped his fingers down hard on Kira’s bicep.

The grip was brutal, a bone-crushing vise that dug deep into her soft flesh, pinching the muscle directly against the bone. Kira let out a sharp, breathless yelp of agony, her knees buckling slightly, but Roderick ignored her cry. He turned on his heel and dragged her forward.

Kira stumbled behind him, her cheap shoes sliding over the polished floor. The humiliation burned hot in her cheeks, but the physical pain overriding her arm kept her focused on staying upright. He hauled her through the edge of the ballroom, shoving past a group of chatting elders, and yanked her through the heavy oak doors leading out into the grand hallway.

Once the thick doors swung shut behind them, muffling the thumping bass of the party, Roderick dragged her further down the corridor, stopping right at the bottom of the grand, sweeping staircase. The very stairs that cast long, dark shadows over the small closet tucked beneath them.

He stopped abruptly, tightened his crushing grip on her arm, and spun her violently around to face him.

The momentum threw Kira off balance. Before she could raise her hands to protect herself, Roderick’s thick palm arced through the air. The heavy, meaty smack of flesh hitting flesh echoed sharply in the cavernous hallway. The force of the slap snapped her head hard to the side. Her teeth clamped down, tearing through the delicate skin of her inner lip. Blood welled up instantly, the hot, metallic taste flooding her mouth, spilling over her bottom lip and dripping onto her chin.

The sight of her bright red blood only fueled his blind rage. She was so weak. So pathetic.

"What did you say to that woman?!" Roderick roared, his spit flying onto her cheek. He grabbed the front of her collar, yanking her close so she was forced to look into his pitch-black eyes. "What lies did you tell her?!"

Tears sprang to Kira’s eyes, the blinding pain radiating across her cheekbone and down her jaw. She choked on the copper taste in her mouth. She tried to speak, tried to form a sentence to defend herself, but her vocal cords seized. Her inner wolf, the primal spirit that should have surged forward to protect her, remained completely dormant. Her wolf had buried itself in a deep, catatonic sleep since she was fifteen, hiding from the daily horrors of her reality. She had no strength, no healing, no fight. She was nothing more than a weak, wolfless girl. Practically human.

Hot, heavy tears spilled over her lashes, carving tracks through her thick makeup as she struggled weakly against his iron grip. Only ragged, desperate gasps of air left her throat.

"WHAT"

He brought his hand back and slapped her again. Her head jerked to the right.

"DID"

Another heavy slap. Her head whipped to the left. The room began to spin.

"YOU"

A third slap, harder this time. The skin over her cheekbone split, a fresh line of blood joining the mess on her chin.

"SAY!!!"

The final slap was devastating. He put the full weight of his shoulder into the swing. The thick heel of his palm cracked against her jawbone. White-hot stars exploded in Kira's vision. The deafening ringing in her ears drowned out her own muffled scream. Her knees gave out entirely, her legs turning to jelly.

Roderick let go of her collar, and she dropped like a stone, crashing hard onto the cold marble floor.

She lay there on her side, the freezing stone pressing against her burning, swollen face. The hallway spun in dizzying circles. All she could hear over the ringing in her ears was the sound of Roderick’s harsh, ragged breathing towering over her. Her quiet, whimpering tears made him growl, a deep, vibrating sound of pure disgust.

"You are a weak and pathetic excuse for a wolf," he spat. A glob of warm saliva landed on her shoulder. "Even your own wolf abandoned you."

He pulled his heavy boot back and drove it forward, kicking her viciously in the stomach.

The impact sank deep into her soft abdomen. The air punched out of her lungs in a violent rush. Kira curled into a tight, trembling ball, wrapping her arms around her ribs as she gasped, desperate for a single breath of oxygen that refused to come.

"Now tell me what you said to that woman," he demanded, his voice devoid of any mercy.

"I was..." Kira choked, her chest heaving as she fought through the blinding pain. She spit a mouthful of blood onto the marble. She had to force the words out. She had to give him an answer, or he would beat her to death right here at the bottom of the stairs. "...only telling her... about my parents."

Roderick’s eyes narrowed. "Did she know them?"

"No," Kira gasped out, her lungs burning.

"Then why bring them up?"

"She... she mentioned fathers," Kira wheezed, pressing her hand against the marble, trying to push herself up onto one elbow to show submission. "I told her mine was dead."

She barely managed to lift her torso before Roderick’s boot swung forward again. The steel toe connected ruthlessly with her ribs, sending a shockwave of agonizing pain radiating through her entire body. Kira collapsed flat onto her back, her vision swimming in a dark, bloody haze.

As she lay there on the cold floor, choking on her own blood, the heavy chimes of the grandfather clock down the hall finally began to strike midnight. Through the thick haze of physical trauma, neither Roderick nor Kira heard the deep, resonant bells signaling the mating hour.

But suddenly, cutting sharply through the foul, metallic stench of her own bleeding mouth, a distinct, intoxicating aroma hit her nose.

It was coming from somewhere incredibly close. A scent so rich, so heavy, it anchored her spinning mind and forced her eyes open. Jasmine and vanilla. It wrapped around her senses, wrapping around the dormant, broken pieces of her soul, demanding her full attention.

That specific, overwhelming scent meant only one thing. Her fated mate was near.