Chapter 1: The Devil's Inheritance 

Avyaane's POV

The heavy downpour of rain did nothing to quell my screams as my father beat me up mercilessly and without remorse with his favorite stick for not opening the door fast enough after one of his drunken sprees.

“Pease, father, I’m sorry.” I pleaded for him to stop to the extent that my voice was little more than an agonized whisper, but he didn’t listen. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying beating the crap out of me.

“You stupid bitch,” he spat as he hit me again, strategically avoiding my face as he usually did because my face was his source of income these days. I honestly wished he could just mark my face and disfigure it, but I knew he wouldn’t; it was his precious merchandise after all.

“Please!” I coughed, my entire body stinging with pain.

“How dare you keep me waiting? Are you trying to follow in your mother’s footsteps like a whore?” He spat, his face red with anger.

If he continued to hit me, I was sure I’d die this time, as I could no longer feel the pain of his beatings but the pain of his hatred.

He continued hitting me, kicking me when I rolled to the wall.

The drunken nights were always the worst, especially since he might have gambled and lost a significant amount of money. I was always the target for him to let out his frustration, and today, I was very sure he’d lost a lot of money just by how drunk he was and by the force of his beatings. Judging by the red, purple-swollen mark on his cheeks, he’d probably taken a beating too.

I continued to cry out loud, my whole body feeling the brunt of his failure tonight.

Suddenly, he stopped hitting me, threw his stick to the side, picked me up from the ground, grabbed my collar, and pushed me up against the wall.

“Now listen here, you piece of sh*t,” he breathed, his alcohol-tainted breath directly on my face. “Better cover all of the scars on your body before school tomorrow; I will not have you get me in trouble,“ he snarled.

As I stared into his eyes, I couldn’t help but notice how soulless they looked.

“Do you understand?” He barked, his nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed as if he were restraining himself from doing something diabolical to me.

Shivering in fear, I nodded.

“Use your words!” He growled impatiently, the smell of alcohol still evident in his breath.

“Y…yes,” I stuttered, unshed tears pricking at my eyes, threatening to spill out even more.

“Good, now go get some sleep; you have a big day tomorrow.” He said this as he took his hands off my collar, leaving me to freefall to the floor.

As he walked out of the room, I pulled my knees to my breasts and began to sob as quietly as I could, wondering what I had done wrong to deserve this type of treatment.

As the rain subsided, so did my tears. I pulled myself up from my sitting position and limped back to my room.

I was tired of crying and feeling sorry for myself. I just wish I was brave enough to run away like my mother did five years ago, but I wasn’t. My father would find me; I just knew it, especially since he made it a point to let me know every time he could that there was no escaping him.

He'd chase me to the end of the world if I ever dared to run like my mother did. He always called her a coward for leaving me behind and said that all of this was punishment for her misdemeanor.

I was happy that my mother had been able to escape after years of enduring abuse from my father, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her.

While grateful she had escaped, I couldn't help but feel betrayed, left as my father's new punching bag.

There were times I cursed her under my breath, especially when my father would cut me with shards of glass or sell me to his friend for the night, and there were times I wanted to end it all, but there was always something stopping me.

For some reason, I couldn’t help but hold out hope that somehow, in some way, I’d be rescued from the grasp of my father. It was wishful thinking, but it was exactly that thinking that kept me alive for years.

I wasn’t particularly sure when I had slept off last night; all I remembered was that I was sobbing and crying for my mother.

I pulled myself off my bed and groaned out in pain. Even though I was completely healed from yesterday’s beating, I still felt a little sore all over. Today was the first day of resumption after the long summer holiday, and I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

School was almost as bad as home, but worse since I was being bullied by multiple people. It was the price I had to pay for being an omega and also the daughter of the pack's highest debtor.

The only thing I was looking forward to was my shift tonight. It was my eighteenth birthday today, and I couldn’t wait to finally get my wolf.

My door flung open as I took off my top, and my eyes widened in surprise. Quickly, I covered my breast with my hands, but it was already too late; the weird stranger had already seen enough of what he wanted to see.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” My father said, grinning at the stranger, that I assumed to be one of his many friends.

“Yes. She is very beautiful,” the man said, smiling lewdly as he walked towards me. He ripped my hands off my dress and squeezed my breast like it was a chew toy and he was a dog.

I let out a gasp, and I guess that turned him on because he groaned in satisfaction and then grinned. I wanted to spit on his face and yell for him to stop, but I knew that would probably end up getting me killed by my father, and I was trying to stay alive longer than I could.

“Now this is why I love omegas,” he said, chuckling and touching my breasts once again. “What a succulent tit!”

I whimpered, trying to get him to stop. But he took it at face value and thought I was enjoying his assault on my body. He dragged me towards my bed and shoved me into the bed.

“I’ll be back,” my father said, giving me a pointed look that meant'satisfy him’ and I began to sob silently. Why me?

Numbly, I laid there as the man took off my clothes and then my pants. I started up at the ceiling as the man positioned himself at the center and juncture of my thighs, and I counted from one to ten as he slammed into me and began to thrust inside me.

It lasted for two and a half minutes, but it was the longest two and a half minutes ever. They always were.

Done with violating me, the man rolled to the other side of the bed and, to my dismay, fell asleep. I got up from my position ten minutes later and bathed, doing everything to wash off the stench from my skin.

Done with dressing up, I came out of my room only to find my father standing just outside my door.

“Where is he?” He asked, his eyes searching mine with his soulless orbs.

“Asleep,” I choked out, not daring to cry in front of him even though that was all I wanted to do. .

“Really? That good, huh?” He smirked, referring to my private parts.

I cringed at his disgusting insinuation but tried not to allow it to show. That would only earn me a beating before school, and I had barely healed from last night’s beating and today’s abuse. I was only a beating away from being unable to do anything the whole day.

I said nothing in response and just stared into space, waiting for him to dismiss me so that I could be on my way to school, another torture ground for me. Now that I thought about it, there was really no place where I was safe. School was a different kind of torture, but I had no choice but to show up every day.

“Oh, come on, that was a funny joke.” He chuckled, but when he saw that, I wasn’t laughing. He got serious again.

“Now that today is the first day of school, I expect you know what to do. Please, every man with a heavy background you see in school. You are not a boy, but at least you have a pretty enough face to get me out of my debts and the trenches.” He said, patting my face.

I nodded with tears threatening to spill out of my eyes, and he smiled his usually cynical smile and told me to get out of his sight and go make him some bread.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. It was my birthday today, and just like every birthday of mine for the last five years, I was alone. At least I’d be shifting today. I could not wait for the eighteenth hour. I had no idea why, but I felt strongly that my eighteenth hour would come with good luck.

As I walked off to school, all I could think about was how much I wanted to run away from here but couldn’t. Maybe my fate was going to change, and I’d be able to escape everything.