MasukSophia
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.
June I finish wiping the last table by the window, the one that always gets fingerprints no matter how many times I clean it. The café is quiet now, the kind of quiet that only comes after closing. Chairs are flipped upside down, lights dimmed to a soft yellow, the smell of coffee still hanging in the air like it refuses to leave.I like this part of the shift. No customers, no small talk, no pretending I am softer than I am. Just work and the quiet hum of the fridge in the back.I rinse the cloth, wring it out, and hang it where it belongs. Countertops are clean. Pastry case wiped down. Cups stacked just right so the morning crew will not complain. I double check the espresso machine, run water through it, wipe the steam wand until it shines. Everything ready for tomorrow, like the place can wake up without me.I check the clock above the register.Too late. Or close enough to it.If I do not leave now, I will miss it. I turn off the last light and head to the staff locker room.The
CalebI walk up the gravel path toward the main facility, boots crunching underfoot, jacket unzipped because I ran here without meaning to. Old habit. The building sits wide and solid against the treeline, steel and stone mixed with old pack symbols carved above the doors. Jake’s idea. Honor the past while preparing for whatever hell is coming next.A couple of trainers are already outside, running warmups with a group of young wolves. Some of them notice me and straighten like they’ve just spotted trouble.“Morning, Caleb,” one of them calls.I lift a hand and nod. That’s all they get. I’m not here to chat. I’m not here to inspire. I head straight for the entrance like I always do.Inside, the sounds hit me at once. Feet pounding mats. Commands being barked. The crack of fists against pads. Jake’s office is at the far end of the hall. I don’t knock. Never have.Lucas is already inside, leaning against the desk, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever. Jake stands by the window with a table
I am running before anyone tells me to.Cold air slices my lungs. Trees blur. The forest smells like iron and wet bark and something sharp enough to make my pulse jump. Good. That means there is trouble. Trouble means movement. Movement means I can forget everything else.My wolf loves this part. The burn in my legs. The way the world narrows to speed and sound and instinct. I vault a fallen log, land wrong, feel my ankle scream. I don’t slow. Pain is a suggestion. I ignore suggestions.The scent gets stronger. Three rogues, maybe four. Not smart enough to mask themselves. I grin even as my chest tightens. This is the kind of math I like. Simple. Me versus whatever thinks it can cross our territory.They don’t see me until it’s too late.I shift mid-stride, bones snapping, skin tearing, the familiar rush crashing through me like lightning. My wolf slams into the first body hard enough to knock the air out of him. The second lunges. I catch him by the throat. My claws go in deep. Hot b
AuroraThump. Thump. Thump.My heart keeps a rhythm like it is practicing for something important. It presses against my ribs, impatient, curious, refusing to calm down. I notice it the same way I notice everything lately, like my body is a room I am walking through, touching the walls just to make sure they are real.Sophia stands in front of me with safety pins held between her teeth, brows pulled together in focus. She adjusts the back of my dress with careful fingers, tugging once, then again, checking the fall of the fabric like she is solving a puzzle. Her hands pause. She tilts her head. One more pin. Then she steps back.There it is. Her smile. The satisfied kind. The one that means she approves.I look down at myself. The dress feels heavier than I expected, not in a bad way. More like it carries meaning stitched into it. I smooth my palms over the fabric without thinking. My fingers tremble a little. I pretend not to notice.The door opens without warning.Anastasia barg
LucasI straighten my bowtie and tilt my head a fraction to the left, then back to center. The angle matters. Three degrees off and it looks careless. Two degrees too tight and it pinches the collar in a way that shows up in photos. I fix it once more and stop. Any more and it turns into a tell.The clock on the wall ticks every second. Not loud. Precise. I count six ticks, then ignore it. The mirror gives me what I expect. Grey suit, clean lines, shoulders sitting right. I don’t smile at myself. I don’t need to. This is correct.Reid sits on the couch with his small shoes lined up heel to heel, copying the way he saw me do it earlier. He glances up at me, then at Mikhail, then back at me. He nods once, like he’s approving a plan.Jake stands close, not hovering, just present. Big brother energy. He watches me adjust my cuffs and says nothing, which is how I know he’s satisfied. If something were wrong, he would already be fixing it.Alexei finally lifts Emmet, who immediately grabs h
AuroraI wake slowly, the way I do when my body feels heavier than usual because my body is still recovering from injuries, like sleep doesn’t want to let go yet. My eyes open to the familiar ceiling, the faint crack near the corner that I always count when I can’t rest. I never let anyone remove this crack, because it is the only imperfect thing in my perfect room...The thing which makes it look like part of my world.Morning light spills in through the window, soft enough that it doesn’t hurt.I stay still for a moment. Breathing. Listening.Then I turn my head.Lucas is on the floor beside the bed, stretched out on his side in his wolf form. His fur is dark against the wood, one ear tilted back like he fell asleep halfway through listening for danger. His chest rises and falls in an easy rhythm. One paw rests near the leg of the bed, close enough that it feels intentional, like even sleeping he needs to know where I am.A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it.Of course







