Chapter 002

Pain.

Stabbing, throbbing and skin ripping pain that made her feel like there was a riot going on in her body..

It was all Sara knew now.

The punches had stopped a while ago, but the ache in her ribs still throbbed with every breath she took. Her left eye was swollen shut, her lips cracked, and the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue.

Sara lay on the cold, hard floor of the small wooden shed they had thrown her into like garbage. The place reeked of mold, rot, and smelly feet. A single window near the roof taunted her—too high to reach.

She curled in on herself, pressing her arms against her stomach to keep the pain from spreading.

Was this really happening?

Had they really beaten her just for being rejected?

A bitter laugh bubbled in her chest, but it hurt too much to let it out. Of course they had.

Through the thin wooden walls, she heard voices—familiar ones, mocking her.

Vanessa. And Quentin.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut, praying they would just go away.

“Oh, darling, we should thank the moon goddess for getting rid of that little pest,” Vanessa’s sugary voice drifted through the cracks.

Quentin chuckled. “She should be grateful I didn’t kill her on the spot.”

Vanessa sighed dramatically. “I just feel so bad for her, you know? No mate, no wolf… just a pathetic little orphan. She’ll never belong anywhere.”

Quentin hummed in agreement. “I did her a favor.”

If that were true, they wouldn’t have come all the way out here just to say it aloud. How could he act like what he’d done wasn’t cruel?

Vanessa giggled, and Sara could picture her flipping her perfect golden hair. “Well, at least now we can focus on our baby.”

“Can you imagine?” Vanessa’s voice dripped sweetness. “Our little pup growing up as the next Alpha of Soomdale? With two strong parents?”

Quentin’s voice was smug. “The strongest.”

Sara couldn’t take it anymore. She pressed her hands over her ears, but their voices still bled through the wood, piercing her skull and burrowing deep into her already shattered soul.

Eventually, they left. Or maybe she passed out—she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was alone again.

Alone with the memories.

******

FLASHBACK…

A younger Sara stood outside in the rain, soaked and trembling while her stepmother watched from the doorway.

“You’re not coming inside until you learn your place,” the woman had said.

Sara had shivered for hours before being let inside—not out of kindness, but because Vanessa had complained that she looked ugly dripping water on the floor.

She remembered her first attempt to shift.

She was twelve, excited because Vanessa had shifted that morning. Sara wanted to prove she wasn’t weak. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she focused, her wolf never came.

That was the day Quentin first called her a failure. That was when the pack stopped seeing her as one of them.

And now… now she had nothing. No home. No pack. No future.

She had cried enough. No one was coming to save her.

*******

The door creaked open, and Sara flinched, bracing for another beating. But it wasn’t a warrior.

It was her stepmother.

The woman stepped inside, holding something in her hand; a piece of metal glowing red at the tip.

Sara swallowed hard. “What is that?”

Her stepmother smiled. “A lesson.”

Sara scrambled back, pressing herself against the wall. “Stay away from me!”

Her stepmother laughed loudly, her heels echoing against the floor. “Do you know what separates us from humans, Sara?” she asked, head tilted.

Sara didn’t respond.

“It’s our ability to heal,” the woman went on. “We can recover from almost anything. Even deep wounds fade within hours.”

She crouched down, face inches from Sara’s. “But you?” she whispered. “You don’t deserve that gift.”

Before Sara could react, her stepmother grabbed her wrist and pressed the hot iron to her skin.

Sara screamed. Agony ripped through her arm and into her bones. The scent of burning flesh choked the air.

She thrashed, kicked, begged, but the woman held her down with ease, watching her squirm like an insect.

“People like you don’t deserve to heal,” the woman murmured, pressing harder. “Next time, you won’t mess with my daughter.”

It was worse than the mate bond snapping. Worse than the beatings.

Sara couldn’t breathe. Then, suddenly, it was over.

The iron was pulled away. Her wrist dropped like discarded trash. She curled into herself, cradling her burned flesh, gasping for air.

Her stepmother stood, dusting off her hands.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smirking. “You won’t be around long enough to suffer much more.”

She turned on her heel and left, the door closing behind her.

Time passed, but Sara didn’t know how long. Minutes. Hours. Days? It didn’t matter.

The pain didn’t fade.

Her body ached from the beatings. Her heart ached from rejection. And her wrist… it would never heal properly. She could feel it in her bones.

She looked at it through blurry eyes. Raw, blackened, blistered. The stench made her gag.

She was going to die here. And maybe… maybe that was better.

No.

Sara sat up, cradling her wrist to her chest. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They had taken everything else from her—she wouldn’t let them win.

She wouldn’t let Quentin and Vanessa live happily while she rotted away.

She had to leave.

Now.

She staggered to her feet, legs trembling beneath her.

Her vision swam, but she forced herself forward, stumbling toward the window. It was high, but not unreachable.

She spotted a wooden crate and dragged it over, biting back a cry as her wrist scraped against it. With her uninjured hand, she pulled herself up, gasping when she reached the ledge.

Cool night air rushed over her face, fresh and full of promise. She squeezed through the gap and fell onto the grass.

She didn’t stop.

Her legs carried her forward, pushed by pure will. She ran—hurt, bleeding, but refusing to stop.

She had no idea where she was heading. All she knew was she had to escape.

Because if they caught her...

They’d make sure she never got back up again.