Chapter 1

She’ll have to leave for the Northridge Pack soon. Beta Xavier will be here shortly. We can’t keep him waiting.”

Lycril’s sharp murmur drifted into the kitchen.

Freya froze mid-motion, her hands submerged in cold, soapy water. The words clung to her ears like a curse. Leave? Northridge Pack? Beta Xavier?

Her pulse quickened. She wasn’t supposed to hear things like this, yet she couldn’t stop herself. Slowly, she set the plate down, dried her damp hands against her apron, and crept toward the doorway.

“I just hope they keep their side of the bargain,” Richard sneered. Her father’s voice was thick with greed. “This deal will clear our debts and finally put money in my pocket.”

Freya’s breath hitched. Bargain? Debts? Money? A pit opened in her stomach.

She edged closer, pressing her ear against the cracked wood of their door.

“Eavesdropping on two adults?”

The low growl behind her made her jolt. Freya spun around to find Enzo, Lycril’s son, glaring at her with undisguised contempt.

“What’s wrong, big brother? Did the wolfless omega do something again?” Amanda’s mocking voice drifted in as she joined them, her lips curling with spite.

“I—I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Freya stammered. “I was only passing by.”

“Not so fast, omega.” Amanda’s nails dug into her arm as she shoved her against the wall.

“Amanda, please—”

The sharp click of heels cut her words. Lycril stormed in, eyes narrowing the instant they landed on Freya.

“What’s going on here?” Her voice was a whip in itself. “Why aren’t you in the kitchen where you belong?”

“Well,” Enzo smirked, “let’s just say I caught her eavesdropping on you and Father. Red-handed.”

Freya’s blood drained from her face. Her body trembled violently, her teeth biting into her lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She knew what came after Enzo’s accusations. Punishment. Always punishment.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

The crack of Lycril’s hand across her cheek silenced her. Pain exploded across her face as she hit the floor hard, her apron crumpling beneath her.

“You insolent child!” Lycril spat. “How dare you listen in on us? And do you think I’d ever believe your lies over my children’s word?”

“I’m sorry, Lycril. Please, I didn’t mean to…” Freya’s tears spilled, hot and uncontrollable. Her apology only drew laughter from Enzo and Amanda, their cruel amusement twisting the knife deeper.

“Richard will decide your punishment.” Lycril’s voice dripped with triumph as she turned toward the inner room.

Freya’s chest seized. No pleading, no tears would save her from her father’s wrath. She curled into herself on the floor, bracing for the storm.

Moments later, Richard entered, a long horsewhip dangling lazily from his hand. Lycril hovered behind him, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

Freya’s breath came in shallow bursts. Her gaze fixed on the whip as old scars seemed to burn anew beneath her skin.

Richard stopped before her and crouched down, his cold eyes boring into hers. She shrank back, pressing herself against the wall.

But instead of striking, he studied her with unnerving calm. Then, with a sneer, he muttered, “We’ll let this one slide. Can’t afford to present a half-starved, battered girl to the Beta, now can we?”

The whip lowered. He turned and walked out as if she were nothing but dirt beneath his boots.

Lycril blinked, startled. For once, her cruelty faltered. Yet she said nothing, only cast Freya a murderous glare before following him.

“No one touches her,” Lycril snapped over her shoulder at Enzo and Amanda. “You heard Richard. Stay away.”

When they finally left, silence pressed heavy against the walls. Freya drew her knees to her chest, burying her face in them. Her cheek still burned, her lip bled, but it was the words echoing in her skull that made her tremble.

Beta Xavier. Northridge Pack. A bargain.

Whatever her father had agreed to, she knew one thing for certain—

She was the price.

***

Freya didn’t know how long she stayed curled up on the floor, her knees tucked to her chest, her body shivering though the air wasn’t cold. Minutes felt like hours, the silence pressing against her ears, broken only by the faint creak of the old wooden beams above.

The door opened again.

Freya flinched, expecting another slap or the sting of the whip—but instead, a crumpled dress landed on her lap.

“Change,” Lycril snapped, her voice clipped with irritation. “We can’t have you looking like a beggar when the Beta arrives, even if that’s what you are.”

Freya lifted the fabric in her trembling hands. It wasn’t fine or beautiful, just slightly cleaner than the rags she wore. Still, it felt like charity tossed at a stray dog. Her chest ached, but she bit her tongue and rose to her feet.

“Yes, Lycril,” she whispered, her voice thin and small.

She turned toward the corner where she usually changed. Her fingers fumbled with the ties of her tattered apron, her eyes blurring with unshed tears.

Why am I always the stain they can’t wash away?

Her mind wandered where it always did when Lycril’s cruelty burned too sharp—back to her mother.

Her mother, whose smile she only knew from fragments whispered by others. A gentle woman, pregnant and radiant, until the day she discovered Richard’s betrayal. The night she learned he had another woman—a mistress waiting in the shadows, already with children of her own. The betrayal had cut so deep that her body could not bear it. Grief and rage had driven her into premature labor, and by dawn she was gone.

Dead on the bed, blood soaking the sheets, while a newborn girl wailed in the silence.

Freya.

Her father had never forgiven her for surviving when the woman he claimed to love had not. To him, she wasn’t a daughter but a curse. A murderer of the only wife that mattered.

And Lycril—Richard’s mistress—had stepped into her mother’s place without hesitation, dragging her own children, Enzo and Amanda, into the household as though they had always belonged. From that day forward, Freya became the unwanted one. The mistake. The wolf-less, motherless burden.

Freya slipped into the new dress quickly, though it hung awkwardly on her thin frame. Her skin stung where Lycril’s slap had landed, her lip raw from biting too hard, but she stood straight anyway.

Lycril’s eyes flicked over her, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite approval. “Better. At least you won’t embarrass us in front of the Beta.”

Freya lowered her gaze, forcing herself to stay silent. She had learned long ago that words only earned her more pain.

But inside, her thoughts screamed.

Why me? Why must I pay for sins I never committed?

Lycril’s heels clicked against the floor as she turned away, her voice cold as ever. “Don’t forget, Freya—keep your head down, speak only when spoken to. You’re nothing but an omega. And you should be grateful your father hasn’t tossed you to the streets.”

When the door shut behind her, the tears Freya had fought spilled freely, tracing hot lines down her bruised cheek.

Grateful. That was what they called it.

But Freya knew better. She wasn’t family, she wasn’t loved. She was just currency—something to be bargained, traded, sold.

And with Beta Xavier’s arrival drawing near, she feared the bargain had already been struck.