4

Scarlett’s pov

I felt overwhelming fear as I approached my father’s pack. I knew no one would miss me if I disappeared or died. I was unwanted and hated by everyone, even the man I called my father.

I greeted a few people with a “Good morning” as I walked to the pack house, but they responded with a dead glare. I waved it off as I walked inside the pack house.

I carefully opened the door, peeking inside to check if my stepmother was around. I prayed I wouldn’t run into her—if I did, I’d surely be punished. I had to hurry to my room, change, and clean the house before she realized I hadn’t been home last night.

A small smile crept onto my face when I saw the place was empty. I tiptoed inside, making my way to the hellhole I was given as a room—a place with no bed, no pillow, nowhere to truly rest my head.

Yes, I smiled. Just a little bit more, and I could enter my room. But my hope was shattered when I heard her voice—the voice that made my knees go weak. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My body trembled on its own as I turned around to face her. Anger was written all over her face.

“Where are you coming from?” she demanded, her voice laced with hatred.

My heart raced, and my breath hitched. Her voice was sharp and filled with disdain, echoing in my ears like a haunting melody that promised pain. “Mom,” I called out of fear, making the biggest mistake of my life.

She was seething with anger, her eyes piercing mine as she advanced towards me.

“I... I am sorry,” I stuttered. “P-please.”

“Did I not warn you?” she yelled, grabbing my throat. My throat constricted painfully under her grip, and I struggled to breathe. My vision blurred as spots danced before my eyes, and a sharp, burning sensation spread across my neck, “not to ever call me ‘mom.’”

“I’m so—” Before I could finish my statement, she shoved me to the floor. I lay there, gasping for air.

She moved closer, pressing the heel of her shoe onto my fingers. A searing pain shot through my hand, and I bit back a scream, feeling the bones in my fingers strain under the pressure.

“You’re not feeling it, bitch?” she shouted. “The pain.”

I groaned and screamed as she twisted it harder, wanting to break them. The pain shot through my body, adding to the pain of rejection from earlier.

“Don’t do this. I’m sorry, Luna.” Luna—that was the name she wanted to hear. The name she wanted me to call her.

She finally let me go, but by the time she did, my fingers were bruised.

She walked past me and took her seat on the sofa.

“Now tell me,” she began, crossing her legs, “where did you sleep last night?”

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Her eyes blinked, studying my behavior.

“You’d better think twice before you open your mouth and say a word,” she warned. “Where did you go after the ball?”

“I lost my way,” I replied, lowering my gaze. I dared not look into her eyes.

“And then?”

“I couldn’t find you or my dad, so I slept there. In one of the rooms.”

She marched to where I was, grabbing my hair and nearly pulling it out. I whimpered. “Really? Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” she asked, tightening her grip on my hair.

“Yes, Luna. I dare not lie to you.”

I could feel her eyes burning into my skin, roaming all over my body.

“I will choose to trust you now,” she said, letting go of my hair. I sighed in relief, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I did something right. I wore a dress that covered all the traces of him on my body. “Stand up and go do your work.”

“Yes, Luna.”

***

I traced my fingers over the cold stone wall, a chill creeping into my bones despite the warmth of the day outside. This is my life—a forgotten corner of the Blackstone pack, hidden away like a shameful secret, where the omega belongs. My life. Scarlett Blackstone, the daughter of the pack’s Alpha, forced into the role of an omega by the woman who wears the title of my stepmother like a badge of honor.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes, but I wouldn’t cry. I’d cried enough tears to drown in, and they’ve never done me any good. Crying only made her smile, her lips curling in that cruel way that told me I was exactly what she wanted me to be—nothing.

“Scarlett!” The sharp voice cut through the air, and I flinched, knowing what was coming next. Stepmother. Her voice was like a whip, always lashing at me, reminding me where I belonged. I scrambled to my feet, dirt clinging to my knees from the cold floor. She never let me forget what I was—a disappointment, a burden, a waste of space.

“You lazy girl!” Her voice sliced through the air as she entered the room, her heels clicking on the stone floor. I kept my eyes on the ground, knowing better than to meet her gaze. “Can’t you do anything right?” She spat the words, each one laced with hate.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” I whispered, but it was never enough. It had never been enough. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how obedient I was, it was never enough for her.

“Of course you are,” she sneered, stepping closer. I could feel her looming over me, her presence suffocating me. “You’re always sorry, Scarlett. That’s the only thing you’re good for—apologizing for being a waste of space.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides, but I forced myself to stay silent. I wanted to scream, to tell her she was wrong, but I didn’t. I’d learned that fighting back only made things worse.

She circled me like a predator, and I could feel her eyes on me, waiting for any sign of defiance. “You think you’re something special, don’t you? With your Blackstone blood? But look at you.” She laughed, cold and cruel. “You’re nothing. Less than nothing.”

Her words burned, but they were nothing new. I’d heard them a thousand times, and each time they sank deeper, carving out pieces of me until there was barely anything left.

“And your father?” She laughed again, a sharp, bitter sound. “He doesn’t even care enough to notice. Do you think he’d save you if he knew?”

My heart twisted at the mention of my father. A part of me still clung to the memory of the man who used to tuck me in at night, who used to call me his little warrior. But he’s long gone, replaced by someone who looks at me with indifference, as if I’m just another omega in the pack. His daughter in name only.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you!” Her hand lashed out, striking me across the face. The slap echoed in the small room, and I tasted blood in my mouth, but I didn’t react. I’d learned how to absorb the pain, how to make myself small enough to disappear.

She stood there for a moment, waiting for a response, but when none came, she huffed and turned on her heel. “Get this place cleaned up. I don’t want to see any sign of you when I return.”

I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the floor, waiting for her to leave. When the door finally slammed shut behind her, I let out a shaky breath, bringing a hand to my stinging cheek.

I’m nothing. I heard her words over and over again in my head, a never-ending loop of hatred that I’d internalized. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am worthless. I even got rejected by my mate.

But what? What could an omega like me possibly hope for? To be the Luna of an Alpha?

I wiped the blood from my lip and stood, the ache in my body a familiar companion. The truth is, I didn’t know how long I could keep this up. Living like this, with no one to protect me, no one who cared whether I lived or died. Not even my own father. Not even the bastard who rejected me.

I dragged the broom across the floor, the bristles scraping against the stone, creating an echo in the empty room. It’s a lonely existence, but it’s mine. At least for now.