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.
JuneI wake slowly, like I am rising through thick water.A low, silent groan slips past my lips before I can stop it.Everything hurts.Not a sharp pain. Not one single injury. It is everywhere. My arms ache. My legs throb. My back feels tight and overworked. Even my fingers feel tender when I try to curl them. It is like I have done the most intense workout of my life and every bone and muscle is protesting.I keep my eyes closed for a moment, breathing through it.Whenever I shift back to myself, my body is sensitive for a couple of hours. My skin feels thinner. My nerves feel exposed. The air brushing against me is too much. The soil beneath me feels too rough.This is not new.It happens every time my body changes back to human form.I love that I am different. I do. I love that there is something powerful inside me, something fierce and loyal and strong.I just wish it did not come with such excruciating pain.I swallow and shift slightly, wincing as my shoulder protests.Somewh
June I keep running. With every passing moment my paws touch the earth, my speed increases. It feels natural, like I was always meant to move this way. Muscles stretch and contract with perfect rhythm. Air rushes into my lungs, cool and sharp, filling me with something close to joy. It is exhilarating. The forest opens ahead of me and I weave through it without thinking. I leap over fallen logs. I cut around thick trunks. My body knows where to go before my mind even registers the path. I forget about everything. There are no thoughts here. Just motion. Just wind slipping through my fur and the soft thud of paws hitting soil. I chase nothing and everything at once, simply because I can. This feeling of liberation wraps around me and pulls me forward. Sometimes I wish I did not have to contain this part of me for so long. I wish I did not have to measure my days by how well I can keep her quiet. I wish I did not have to wait for darkness and distance and secrecy. I wish I had
JuneI wake up already tired.Not the kind of tired that comes from sore muscles or lack of sleep. This is different. It sits under my skin, hums in my chest, makes my thoughts sharper than they need to be.The room is quiet when I open my eyes. Pale light slips through the curtains. For a moment, I lie there and stare at the ceiling, trying to breathe through the tightness building inside me.It is too early for this.I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. My pulse feels louder than usual. My fingers curl into the sheets, then release. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake it off.Practice starts in thirty minutes.By the time I step onto the training field, the air is crisp and cool. Others are already there, stretching, talking in low voices. I keep to myself like I always do. A quick nod here. A brief glance there.The drills begin.We run first. Laps around the perimeter. My feet hit the dirt in rhythm, breath moving in and out. Normally the motion helps. Normally it
CalebI know I have a temper.It flares fast, burns hot, and sometimes I speak before I think. I have know this all my life. This is how I am.But damn, watching June walk toward Kylie when she was about to shift lights up my fuse like nothing else.We have been told since we were pups to never go near anyone in the middle of a shift. It is one of the first rules drilled into us. Bones break. Control slips. Instinct takes over. Even the gentlest wolf can lash out without meaning to. The outcome can turn devastating in a blink.And June was already too close.Kylie was trembling, her body caught between human and wolf, pain twisting her features. A few people stood back, giving her space. That is what we are supposed to do.June stepped closer.Closer.My chest tightened so hard it felt like something snapped inside me. What was she thinking? Did she not understand the risk?When she took another step, I did not think. I moved.I jumped in between them, my body planting itself like a s
JuneThis is the exact reason I never feel like I belong anywhere.Because sooner or later, you are expected to bend. To soften the edges that make other people uncomfortable. To pretend you did not see what you saw. To hold back because someone with money or a last name that carries weight must not be bruised.You have to be untrue to yourself so someone unworthy can keep their shine.It sits wrong with me.The only place I never felt that way was underground.Down there, under flickering lights and stained ceilings, nobody cared where you came from. Nobody asked who your parents were or what car dropped you off. It was dangerous. It was ugly sometimes. People could be cruel in ways that left marks you carried home.But they were honest.Respect was earned. Not handed out because of a trust fund or a powerful family.The richest man in the room could be knocked flat and walk out a loser. A dirt poor girl like me could leave with cheers ringing in her ears because she earned that spot
JuneBy the time the first session ends, my arms feel like they are filled with sand and my shoulder throbs where Allan’s punch connected. Sweat cools against my skin as the breeze moves across the field. Around me, people stretch, laugh, groan dramatically about sore muscles.There is a lightness in the air. We survived the first round.Sasha claps her hands once. “Good work. That’s it for this session.”A few people cheer quietly. Someone mutters something about finally getting food. The group begins to disperse, bodies turning toward the building, water bottles lifted, conversations already starting.I bend to retie my laces again, tightening them out of habit.“Where do you think you’re going?”Sasha’s voice slices through the movement.Everyone pauses.She stands with her hands on her hips, scanning us like we are a class of children caught trying to leave early. “Your session with me has ended,” she says, her tone sharp but not cruel. “You are not free yet.”A collective groan r







