LOGINSophia
My face turns towards the right while the skin of my cheek stings with the impact of the slap.
My eyes burn with tears, which I refuse to release as my gaze is trained on the floor.
"Apologize to Cynthia right now!" My father bellows causing me to flinch. "How dare you disrespect my wife and your Luna by questioning her actions?!"
My mother died soon after giving birth to me, and my father blamed me for her death. When I turned three, councilmen asked my father to take a second chance mate because his wolf was going crazy without his mate. Even though he didn't want to, he had to find another mate because, slowly, his wolf was going insane.
Since my mother was his true mate, he never wanted to give her place to anyone else, so instead of taking Cynthia as his second chance mate, he married her.
Cynthia is what you can call a true definition of an evil stepmother. She hated me from the moment she married my father and made it clear to me that I was unwanted in her house.
But since she couldn't kick me out, she made sure to make my life miserable at every chance she got.
"She punished Emily for no reason." I speak in a low but firm voice, "She is a small child who just took an apple from the fruit basket."
"She stole the apple." Cynthia glares at me, then turns her gaze to my father and places her hand on his arm, "Emily is a child. That's why it is important for her to learn if she needs something, then she should ask instead of stealing. I was disciplining her by ordering her to fetch five buckets of water from the well, not punishing her."
"I even asked Janet to accompany her and help her with completing her task." She sighs and shakes her head, "I am mother of this pack; I am not cruel as Sophia thinks of me."
"You don't have to justify yourself; I know you." Father wraps an arm around her as she softly cries, "This girl is nothing but a nuisance. It seems like killing my Selena wasn't enough for her, so each day she does something that only hurts others." He glares at me with such hatred that the tears that I was holding back spill from my eyes.
"No food for you for five days, and you will work with the omegas for the preparation of a full moon ball." He puts every bit of his Alpha command behind his words while glaring at me.
"Yes, Alpha." Bowing my head, I show my neck in submission to him.
Strangely, Alpha commands never work on me, but I haven't told anyone about this, especially my father. If I told him then he would find one more reason to hate me thinking I am challenging his authority.
I turn and leave the room, my head held low. As I walk through the halls of the pack house, I feel the weight of everyone's stares. Whispers follow me, but I am used to it. I've been an outcast my whole life. I pass Emily in the kitchen, her eyes red from crying. She looks up at me with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, and I manage a small smile for her.
"I am sorry, Sophia." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, "I was hungry."
"It's okay, Emily," I say softly and reassuringly.
Emily is one of the orphans of the pack. Her parents died in a car accident two years back; since she doesn't have any family who could take her in, she lives in the orphanage.
I head out to my room in the packhouse where I live since I am not allowed to live in the Alpha house, ready to start my punishment.
Physical labor is nothing new to me; it's a way to keep my mind off the pain and loneliness that have become my constant companions. As I work, I think about my mother, the only person who might have loved me if she had lived.
And sometimes my thoughts shift to the person whom Moon Goddess has chosen for me... my mate.
My heart clings to the hope that one day, I'll find him, and he'll take me away from this misery.
Something in me tells me that soon, my wait is about to come to an end.
AuroraWe walk again after, our steps falling into an easy rhythm like they have always known how to find each other. The night air feels softer now, cooler against my cheeks. My fingers stay laced with his, and every so often his thumb traces a quiet circle against my knuckle. Not asking. Just there. It feels like reassurance without words.The stars stretch above us, scattered and quiet. Somewhere nearby, a breeze moves through the trees, carrying that faint scent of earth and pine. It reminds me of home. Or maybe it reminds me of him. The two things are starting to blur in ways that feel comforting instead of scary.I clear my throat, already smiling because I know how this is going to sound. “I need to tell you something.”He looks at me right away. Always does. His attention shifts fully, like I have gently tapped his shoulder from the inside. “Okay.”“I have to visit my dad,” I say. “It’s my grandparents’ anniversary. He wants me there. I kind of have to show up.”There it is. T
AuroraLucas’s face freezes in a way I have never seen before. Not anger. Not calculation. Just pure surprise, wide-eyed and unguarded, like his thoughts tripped over each other and fell down the stairs.I laugh before I can stop myself. It slips out warm and unguarded, and that seems to shake him loose.He blinks once. Twice. His jaw tightens, then loosens, like he is testing if his mouth still works. When he finally moves, he steps closer, slow enough that I notice the careful placement of his boots, the way his shoulders square as if he is bracing for impact.He steps closer, eyes searching mine. “Why did you say that I marked you?”I tilt my head, letting the question sit between us. The corner of my mouth lifts. “Did you really think I would never find out?” I raise a brow, just enough. “That bite was not random. It was you claiming me.” My fingers trace the spot beneath my collarbone through the fabric, not revealing it, just reminding him it exists.His hand goes through his ha
LucasAnastasia knocks once and then pushes the door open like she owns the place when I tell her to come in, which she kind of does, it is her home as well.She sets a paper bag on my desk, right on top of a map I was staring holes into. The smell hits first. Baked potato chips. Warm. Salty. Comfort disguised as food.She just got back from Headquarters. I can tell by the tension still sitting in her shoulders and the faint metallic scent that always clings to her jacket after long days there.Who would have thought the Chief of Hunters would become my sister. Life is funny that way. Not ironic. Just strange and persistent.I glance at the bag and then at her. “You brought these again.”“You like them,” she says, like that explains everything. It does to her. One detail cataloged and stored forever.I once mentioned liking the baked potato chips one of the chefs at HQ makes. Just a passing comment, nothing important. But since then, every time those chips are baked, she brings them f
AuroraThe cup is warm in my hands. Too warm. I notice it and still lift it to my mouth because I am distracted by the smell, by the way the chocolate looks thicker than anything I have ever had before. Merope stands across from me, her back half turned as she puts something away on a shelf. She hums softly, not a song I recognize.I take a sip.Instant regret.Heat floods my mouth and I make a small, undignified noise as I pull back, coughing once, eyes watering. The cup wobbles in my hands and I manage not to drop it, which feels like a minor miracle considering the way my tongue feels like it has been personally betrayed.Before I can recover, Merope turns.Her eyes flick straight to my face. Not the cup. Not the spill that did not happen. My face. The way my lips part as I breathe through my mouth, the quick blink of my eyes as I try not to make this worse.The sting lingers, sharp but fading.She crosses the room in a few steps. I notice how she moves without rush, but everything
AuroraElder Merope is old. Not just old, but ancient in the way mountains are old. The kind of old that is older than your grandparents or great-grandparents. If I did not know her, if I had passed her on the street, I would have guessed she was maybe forty. Calm eyes. Smooth skin. Hair only lightly touched with silver. Nothing about her looks like centuries. And yet everything about her feels like time.My grandmother would want to kill her if she ever met Merope and found that, without any costly procedures, she looks this young.Her house smells like dried herbs and rain-soaked earth... and feels welcoming. I like the way her eyes soften when they land on me.She is kind to me. Not polite-kind. Not careful-kind. Real kindness. The kind that does not hover or pity. Lucas trusts her, and that trust slides into me without resistance. If he believes in her, then I do too. Simple as that.“You are special,” she tells me, not for the first time. She keeps saying this to me as an affirm
LucasThe wind will not shut up.It keeps pushing through the trees outside, leaves brushing and colliding, a soft but relentless sound that drills straight into my head. Swish. Rattle. Pause. Then again. The rhythm is almost intentional, like it knows I am trying to think and wants to be counted among my thoughts. I sit at the desk with papers spread out in front of me, maps pinned, notes stacked, timestamps circled and crossed out so many times the ink has started to blur. Aurora is not here, she is at Merope's place.I will pick her up in an hour. Sixty minutes. I check the time without meaning to as I am literally counting seconds until she is with me.Forcing my mind back to the task, I trace the pattern of attacks again with the tip of my pen. Location. Time. Method. Entry. Exit. I say the words silently, like a mantra. I have already submitted my final assignment. University is finished for now, which should feel like relief. Instead it feels like permission. Every spare minute







