The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 7

**Shadows Hearts by Joseph King**
**Chapter 7: Battle at Home**

**Thora’s POV:**

I could feel his gaze piercing through me, a weighty presence that made my skin prickle. As he turned his head, I pressed my lips together, resolutely ignoring the jagged wound that marred my side. With deliberate care, I began to pull on the oversized dress shirt that lay waiting for me.

As a warrior forged in the fires of the apocalypse, I had endured injuries that would have left most paralyzed with pain. This, a mere scratch in comparison, was nothing I couldn’t handle.

But urgency gnawed at me; I needed to return to Silverleaf Pack without delay.

My grandfather had bestowed upon me the title of the next Alpha. The rest of the pack, however, would relish the opportunity to see me fall, to witness my demise out here in the wild. If I lingered any longer, I knew trouble would inevitably come knocking.

The man loomed nearby, his eyes never leaving me as I struggled into the shirt. His brows knitted together, a look of concentration etched on his face, as if he were trying to decipher the enigma that was me.

The shirt hung off my frame like a sail, far too large for my petite stature, but it was a vast improvement over my tattered, bloodied school uniform.

“I’m ready to leave,” I declared, my voice steady as I locked eyes with him.

If he dared to go back on his word, I was prepared to unleash everything I had, even if it meant facing death in the process.

Yet, to my surprise, he held true to his promise. He regarded me with a long, unwavering look, then stepped aside.

“You may go,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

As soon as the words left his lips, I rushed toward the door, my heart racing with the hope of freedom.

But just then, a sharp jolt of pain shot through my broken leg, causing me to stumble violently. I crashed to the floor, the impact reverberating through my body.

Grinding my teeth in frustration, I forced myself to rise, grimacing as I examined my calf. The bone had been set back into place, but each movement still sent waves of agony coursing through me. At least I could walk—barely.

I straightened my back, squared my shoulders, and limped toward the exit with determination.

Just as I reached the door, his voice called out to me, the hint of amusement dancing in his tone. “Thora.”

I halted, a frown creasing my forehead.

Of course, he knew my name. With the power he possessed, discovering my identity would have been a simple task.

“Thora,” he repeated, almost relishing the sound as if it were a fine wine. “We’ll meet again. Very soon.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. That was not a prospect I welcomed.

I was already burdened with enough troubles; the last thing I needed was to become entangled with someone like him. That would only serve to complicate my already chaotic life.

Stepping out of the grand, opulent estate, I was greeted by a car waiting patiently at the curb.

“Ms. Green, I’m here to take you back to Silverleaf Pack,” the driver said respectfully, holding the door open with a courteous gesture.

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