Chapter 3

Rosalee's Point of View

As I stare at the man standing in the hotel lobby, his presence seems to command the very air around him. He’s beautiful, dark hair framing a chiseled face, his piercing eyes locked onto mine. But it’s not his appearance that has me frozen in place.

It’s the word he just uttered.

“Mate.”

No. No, I must have heard wrong. He couldn’t have said mate. My heart pounds erratically in my chest, and I feel the blood drain from my face. For two years, I had convinced myself that I would never hear that word, and I had prayed, even begged, the Moon Goddess to make it so.

But now, standing here, I can’t deny the truth. The way his eyes burn with recognition, the magnetic pull I feel toward him, it’s undeniable. He is my mate.

Suddenly, I’m not in the hotel lobby anymore. I’m back in the Silver Ridge Pack, two years ago, on the morning of my sixteenth birthday.

I remember waking up that day with a strange mix of excitement and hope. I knew I wouldn’t be getting a party or even a simple acknowledgment of my birthday. The pack treated me as less than nothing, a burden they were forced to endure. But that didn’t matter to me.

What mattered was that I’d finally be getting my wolf. I’d waited for this moment for as long as I could remember. With my wolf, I would finally have the strength to stand up for myself, the chance to escape this hellhole. And maybe, just maybe, I would find my mate, the one person destined to love and protect me.

That hope had carried me through years of pain and rejection. But the reality of that day had been far from what I’d dreamed.

As I had expected, my sixteenth birthday began like any other day at the Silver Ridge Pack, with endless chores and little acknowledgment of my existence. I scrubbed floors, carried supplies, and completed the menial tasks assigned to me without complaint. It was my way of surviving in a place where I was treated as less than human.

But then, everything changed.

A mandatory pack meeting was called, and the order spread quickly. Everyone was to gather in front of the pack house. My stomach twisted with unease as I joined the crowd, the murmurs of my packmates creating a low hum of tension in the air.

The Alpha and Luna stood on the steps of the pack house, their imposing figures towering over the gathered wolves. Their expressions were unreadable, but the weight of their gaze made me feel small and exposed.

“Rosalee,” the Alpha’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd. “Come forward.”

My heart leaped into my throat as I stepped hesitantly through the sea of pack members. For a brief, fleeting moment, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Could they possibly be acknowledging my birthday? Was it too much to dream that they might wish me well, even if just for show?

But that hope was snuffed out the moment the Alpha spoke again.

“Shift.”

I blinked, confusion washing over me. “I, I don’t understand,” I stammered, my voice barely audible. “Why do I have to shift in front of everyone?”

The Alpha’s face darkened, his frustration evident. “Do not question me, girl. Shift. Now.”

I shook my head, panic rising in my chest. “Please, I don’t...”

His growl cut through my protest like a blade, and I felt the crushing weight of his Alpha command slam into me. “Shift.”

My knees buckled as the command took hold, leaving me no choice but to obey. The crowd’s eyes bore into me, their judgmental stares adding to the humiliation coursing through me.

At least I knew what to expect. Growing up in a pack, I had seen others shift for the first time. I had watched the painful yet awe-inspiring transformation as wolves emerged, powerful and majestic. But this was different. This was public, forced, and laced with malice.

The pain began, sharp and searing, as my bones cracked and reshaped themselves. My skin stretched, fur sprouting where there had been none. Every nerve in my body screamed, but I gritted my teeth, determined not to cry out.

And then it was over. I stood there in my new form, trembling and vulnerable. For a moment, I dared to hope that they might see me differently now, that they might recognize my strength or accept me as one of their own.

But the gasps and horrified whispers that rippled through the crowd shattered that illusion.

“Abomination.”

The Alpha’s voice was cold and final as he spoke. “You are no longer welcome here, Rosalee. Leave, and never return.”

I had dreamed of my first shift as a moment of liberation, a step toward a better future. Instead, it became the day I lost everything.

I don’t hesitate for even a second. The moment the Alpha’s words cut through the air, I turn and take off running, my paws pounding against the earth as I flee the place I once called home. I refuse to let them see me cry. I will not give them the satisfaction of watching me beg to stay.

The forest blurs around me as I push myself harder, faster, desperate to escape the voices still echoing in my mind. Abomination. Monster. The words sting, but I bury the pain beneath my determination to keep moving.

After what feels like hours, I finally stop by a stream, my chest heaving as I catch my breath. The cool night air does little to soothe the ache in my heart. The water glistens under the moonlight, and I find myself drawn to it.

Cautiously, I approach the stream, the sound of the gentle current filling the silence around me. I lean over to drink, but when I catch sight of my reflection, I freeze.

Staring back at me is a wolf unlike any I’ve ever seen.

My fur is pitch black, darker than the night itself, absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. I’m larger, much larger, than any normal werewolf, my body built with a strength and power that feels foreign yet undeniable. But it’s my face that truly sets me apart.

My muzzle is longer, more angular, more like the face of a Lycan than a wolf. And then there are my eyes.

They burn with a bright orange glow, like the heart of a flame, an eerie combination of the werewolves’ golden eyes and the Lycans’ blood-red ones. They seem to pierce through the darkness, both beautiful and terrifying.

I take a step back, my reflection rippling in the water.

It’s true.

I’m not like them. I’m not just a werewolf. I’m not a Lycan, either. I’m both. A hybrid, born of two bloodlines that were never meant to mix.

I’ve heard the stories, the whispered warnings of what happens when a werewolf and a Lycan create life together. A child born of such a union is seen as a curse, a monster, something to be feared and rejected.

And now, as I stare at my reflection, I see the truth of those stories etched into every part of me.

I am that monster.

A shiver runs through me, but I shake it off, lifting my head to look at the moon above. If they want to call me a monster, so be it. I’ll survive. I’ll find a way to live, even if it means doing so alone.

With one last glance at the stream, I turn and run again, leaving the reflection, and the life I once knew, behind.

As I run, the forest begins to thin, and in the distance, I see faint lights flickering against the dark horizon. A town. Relief washes over me, but exhaustion weighs heavily on my body, forcing me to slow down. My paws falter, and with a deep breath, I shift back into my human form.

The cool night air bites at my skin, and I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. I don’t know what lies ahead, this could be another werewolf pack, a Lycan settlement, or, if I’m lucky, a human town. I pray to the Moon Goddess for the latter, though I’ve never been one for good luck.

As I approach the edge of the town, I spot a small house with clothes hanging on a line outside. I hesitate, guilt pricking at me, but desperation wins. I grab a large shirt, slipping it over my head. It hangs loosely on my frame, but it’s better than nothing.

My stomach growls loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet night. Hunger claws at me, sharp and relentless. I continue walking until I find myself behind a modest-looking hotel. The faint scent of food wafts from the building, and I follow it, hoping to find something to quiet the gnawing ache in my belly.

In the alley behind the hotel, I spot a row of bins. Swallowing my pride, I begin rummaging through them, searching for anything edible. I’m so focused on my task that I don’t hear the door creak open until it’s too late.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice calls out, sharp but not unkind.

I freeze, turning to see a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in my disheveled appearance, but instead of anger, I see something unexpected in her gaze pity.

“What are you doing out here, child?” she asks, stepping closer.

“I...” My voice cracks, and I quickly look away, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I was just hungry.”

She studies me for a moment before sighing. “Wait here.”

I watch as she disappears back into the kitchen, my heart pounding. A part of me expects her to come back with someone to chase me off, but instead, she returns with a plate of food.

“Here,” she says, handing it to me.

I stare at her, stunned. “Why are you helping me?”

Her expression softens. “You look like you’ve been through hell. No one deserves to go hungry.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away, accepting the plate with trembling hands.

Over the next few days, the woman, Margaret, I learn, is true to her word. She speaks to the hotel owner on my behalf, arranging for me to work in the kitchen in exchange for food and a small room in the staff quarters.

For the first time in years, I feel a glimmer of safety. It’s not much, but it’s enough.