Chapter Two: Broken Beneath the Storm

LIANA.

I forced my body to turn, despite the stabbing pain that shot up my legs with every slight movement. Through the haze of exhaustion, I could see them—my father and brother, watching me from a distance. Even at that moment, under the weak light cast by the rising moon, I could make out their faces. Their expressions were twisted, not with worry or even anger, but with something darker, something like satisfaction.

My father cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, at his voice slicing through the silence of the woods.

“You’re as good as dead out here, Liana! Do you hear me?” He spat my name like it was a curse. “I hope they rip you apart. I’d be glad to be rid of you for good. I never want anything to do with you!”

His words shattered whatever little strength I had left in me. I’d grown accustomed to their cruelty, to the way they treated me like a burden, a stain on their lives. But to hear him speak those words, to see him stand there, not even trying to hide his relief… it felt like he’d driven a knife straight into my chest.

I tried to keep my face blank, to stay strong, but my body betrayed me. The ache inside swelled, rising up through my throat and squeezing at my chest until I thought I’d choke on it. My father and brother didn’t wait to see what would happen to me; they simply turned and walked back into the woods, their footsteps fading until there was only silence.

As they disappeared, a coldness seeped into my bones, a kind of numbness that spread through my limbs and left me lying there, limp and powerless. I looked up at the sky, at the vast stretch of stars above me, twinkling against the night as if mocking my misery. It seemed almost peaceful, like a cruel contrast to the storm inside me.

Why? The question clawed its way through my mind. Why was I born only to suffer? These questions had been my frequently asked questions since I turned six, and this made me wonder if they all hated me because I was wolfless or if there was something there that made them hate me this much.

My family wasn’t the only ones that hated me—everyone in the pack looked at me the same way, with those hard, disdainful eyes. To them, I was cursed, a bringer of misfortune. They said I was born wolfless as punishment for something dark in my soul, that I was the reason for all their failures, their losses. Even as a child, I’d heard the whispers, the hateful words they thought I couldn’t understand.

Bad luck. A curse. The reason we suffer.

For as long as I could remember, they blamed me for everything. I could still hear the mocking voices of the other children in the pack, sneering as they hurled stones at me. I remembered my mother, too, her lips curling in disgust whenever I came near. I wasn’t a daughter to her. I was just a mistake she was forced to live with.

And even though I’d tried, over and over, to prove them wrong, to show them I could be useful…it was never enough. They saw only my faults, only the things I couldn’t do. I was wolfless, and in their eyes, that made me even more worthless. Less than nothing.

I lay there, letting the memories claw their way up, each one more painful than the last. I thought of all the times I’d been pushed, shoved, slapped, made to feel small. And not just by my family. It was the entire pack, a collective cruelty that seeped into every corner of my life. The adults would turn away whenever they saw me suffering, as if acknowledging my pain would taint them somehow.

And then there were the other kinds of dangers, the ones no one in the pack spoke about, but I could never forget. The nights when I’d be cornered in the shadows, men’s hands reaching out to grab at my boobs, their breath heavy and sickening. They called me worthless, yet somehow, I was valuable enough to be their plaything. I’d escaped more times than I cared to remember, barely managing to fight off those disgusting hands, always running to find the next hiding spot, the next brief moment of safety.

No one came to my rescue. No one cared. They looked the other way, or worse—they smirked, as if my suffering was just another confirmation of what they already believed. That I was cursed.

Is this how it ends? Alone, broken, and discarded?

The first drops of rain splashed against my skin, cool and soft, and for a moment, I thought it was just my imagination. But then the heavens opened, and the rain poured down, soaking me, each drop icy as it struck my cheeks, my arms, my legs.

I lay there, staring up at the sky, letting the rain wash over me. It felt like the universe itself was crying for me, shedding tears that I no longer had the strength to shed. I’d cried enough in my life, shed enough tears to fill an ocean, and now, even though I was breaking inside, I couldn’t cry anymore. The rain did it for me.

The coldness sank deeper, spreading through me like a fog, making my limbs heavy and unmovable. My eyes drifted shut, and in the darkness, I found a strange sense of peace. Maybe this was my fate. Maybe I was meant to fade away here, in this forgotten corner of the world.

Perhaps…perhaps the universe mourns for me because no one else ever would.

The rain intensified, drumming against the ground, drowning out the silence that had weighed on me for so long. I felt my body slacken, surrendering to the earth, to the storm. I could barely feel my own limbs anymore; everything was numb, cold, distant.

As I teetered on the edge of consciousness, the thought slipped from my lips in a faint, trembling whisper, barely louder than the rain.

Let this be it… let me finally find peace.”

The world grew darker, like a thick veil had fallen over me. The pain in my body dulled, fading into a strange kind of comfort, as if I were drifting away from everything I’d ever known. I was ready to let go, to welcome the oblivion that was slowly pulling me under.

But then, out of the silence, I heard them—whispers, faint and distant, weaving their way through the rain. Voices, echoing through the darkness, strange and unfamiliar. I couldn’t understand the words, but I felt the fear rise in me, sharp and sudden, piercing through the numbness.

My heart hammered in my chest, each beat echoing louder, more insistent. I tried to move, to open my eyes, but my body refused to obey. The voices grew closer, clearer, and with every word, a chill slid down my spine.

I wasn’t alone.

Fear gripped me, sharp and unforgiving, pulling me back from the edge of unconsciousness. The whispers surrounded me, weaving through the darkness, and I felt a surge of dread so powerful it brought tears to my eyes.

And then, just as suddenly as they began, the whispers stopped.

Silence settled over me once more, broken only by the soft patter of rain.

In that silence, suspended between fear and darkness, I let myself slip away.