The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Blood and Lies**

**Thora’s POV:**

“Arghhh! Are you still alive?” Hazel’s voice pierced through the tension, her finger jabbing in my direction like a dagger.

A chilling laugh escaped my lips as I took a step closer to her. “What do you think, sister?” My tone dripped with sarcasm, and I could see the shock flicker across her face.

The others snapped out of their stupor, their eyes darting between us.

Laurel, with a swift pinch to Hazel’s arm, forced a shaky smile onto her lips. “Hazel, stop with this nonsense! You should be relieved that Thora made it back safely.”

But her expression shifted as she turned to me, shadows of concern darkening her features. “Where have you been for the last few days? Not a word, not a call! You come back and scare Hazel half to death—do you even have any respect for this family anymore?”

I raised an eyebrow, my irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “Why not ask Hazel where I’ve been? From the look on her face, she thought I was dead out there.”

“You went off gallivanting, and now you’ve lost all sense of decorum!” Norman’s voice boomed, cutting through the air before Laurel could interject. “Just because your grandpa named you the next Alpha, you think you can act like one! Until you awaken your wolf spirit and undergo the inheritance ceremony, you have no say in this family!”

He glared at me, his finger jabbing into my shirt as if he could pierce through my skin with his fury. “Tell me! Where have you been? Were you consorting with rogues? And what’s with that man’s shirt you’re wearing?”

There was no warmth in his eyes, no hint of concern—only disgust, disdain, and a barrage of accusations.

So this is how it is? We share the same blood, yet his favoritism runs so deep it’s suffocating.

Can’t he see the wounds that mar my skin?

I let out a bitter laugh in my mind and shifted my gaze to Hazel, who was cowering behind Laurel, her eyes wide with fear.

“Five days ago,” I began, my voice steady and unwavering, “Hazel told me there was a magical crystal near the cliffs—something that could help me awaken my wolf spirit. She asked me to meet her there alone. But when I arrived, there was no crystal waiting for me. Instead, a group of rogues lay in wait, ready to kidnap me.”

I shifted slightly, lifting my arm just enough to reveal the wound beneath my shirt. Bright red blood seeped through the fabric, a vivid contrast against the white, spreading rapidly like a dark omen.

“I fought them off with everything I had,” I continued, my voice unwavering. “Then I fell off the cliff and was unconscious for five days—until someone finally found me and saved my life.”

Norman’s gaze locked onto the bloodstain, and for once, he was rendered speechless.

“Oh, and by the way,” I added nonchalantly, “on my way home, the patrol guards spotted me. I passed by the Council Hall and even exchanged greetings with a few of the elders.”

“What did you tell them?” Norman’s voice rose, laced with panic.

A smirk threatened to break free. Of course, he was terrified. Terrified that I might have said something that would lead the Council to blame him for neglecting his duties—or worse, make Grandpa hold him accountable.

“Relax, Father,” I replied coolly, meeting his gaze with defiance. “I merely told them I’m still alive.”

I held his stare, unflinching. “I know you all despise that Grandpa named me the next Alpha. But think about it: if I came home alive today and something happened to me shortly after, what would the pack think? What would the Council say about us?”

Silence enveloped the room. They wanted me dead, but not if it meant dragging their own names through the mud.

I made my intentions clear. By using the Council and the pack members as my shield, I ensured they wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me in public.

In this treacherous world, I needed time to grow stronger. This battered body needed time to heal.

Before I could become powerful, I had to ensure my survival.

“You brat! You…”

Norman stammered, but the rest of his words crumbled into silence, choked by his own rage.

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