A Heart to Win Over

Amelia’s POV

Beep, beep, beep.

I reached out for the alarm clock sitting next to my mattress. Another day of toil was beginning. I stretched and winced; God, what I wouldn’t have given to sleep a little longer like the other pack members. But as a servant, I had to prepare breakfast for the Alpha, his mate, and their two sons—the twins who, tomorrow, would themselves become the pack’s Alphas.

Tomorrow was also my birthday; I would finally turn eighteen and could choose whether to stay with the pack or leave and live as a drifter. But what was the point? What could an orphan possibly do? I owned nothing but a few worn-out, patched-up clothes.

I lost my father when I was eight; he was the current Alpha’s Beta and gave his life to save the twins. My mother had died giving birth to me. Naturally, Alpha Logan and his family took me in, but they made me work for my room and board.

I was often mistreated and frequently reminded that I was an act of charity. They paid for my schooling on the condition that I got good grades, but that wasn’t a problem for me; I was naturally gifted at school.

So, tomorrow was my birthday, and I would shift for the first time. The thought terrified me, yet I had no one to talk to about it. I’d heard it was incredibly painful—that it felt as if every bone in your body was breaking at once only to knit back together, and every muscle was tearing simultaneously; in short, that it was agonizing. But who could I talk to? The Alpha and the Luna didn’t really care about me, and the twins? To them, I was a punching bag they took pleasure in tormenting. And no matter how much research I’d ​​done—I had to admit it—I’d found nothing.

I got up and walked over to the mirror in my room. "Room" was a generous term; it was a tiny space—likely an old storage closet—fitted with a mattress on the floor, a small dresser, and a mirror so I could see just how hideous I was, or so the twins claimed.

I studied my reflection, trying once again to see what it was about me that repulsed them so much. I winced at the bruise still visible on my left cheek—a "gift" from the twins after I’d had the misfortune of not lowering my gaze fast enough to suit them.

My green eyes looked too large for my slender face; my pale pink lips were thin and smooth; and my small, narrow nose didn't look out of place. I didn't consider myself beautiful, but I knew I wasn't ugly, either. My face was delicate and pale—save for that bruised cheek—though at least I lacked the freckles common among redheads. I was short for a werewolf—barely 1.75 meters—but I was lean and athletic. To my dismay, I was flat-chested and narrow-hipped. Sometimes I wished for the voluptuous curves other girls my age had, but I had to accept that it simply wasn't in the cards for me.

I grabbed my last hair tie and set about pulling back my heavy, unruly hair. I really ought to risk cutting it again, despite my last disastrous attempt. Luna Anne had been angry with me, because it had turned out to be a disaster and she’d had to pay someone to fix the mess I’d made.

I left my room and headed to the kitchen. My first task of the day was to make breakfast—a meal the Alpha’s family would devour without a word of thanks to me. Why would they? After all, wasn't I there to serve them? I had to prepare mountains of food—scrambled eggs, waffles, pancakes, bacon, sausage, French toast, ham, homemade whipped cream, and toast—and nothing would be left on their plates. I wasn't allowed to eat before them and had to make do with leftovers; yet, despite the massive amount of food I cooked, there was never anything left. So, I had gotten into the habit of snacking while I cooked, taking great care not to get caught. But the twins had nearly caught me once, and now they were showing up in the kitchen earlier and earlier, effectively depriving me of my own breakfast. I was just reaching for a pancake when they walked into the kitchen that morning.

Zach: Hey, Ugly, what are you doing there?

I froze before turning to face them—Zach and Alex. The twins: as beautiful as fallen angels, with their steel-blue eyes, jet-black hair curling at the nape of their necks, perfect physiques, broad shoulders, narrow waists, and—above all—their towering six-foot-five height. Yet, despite their stunning looks, they were my worst nightmare, constantly tormenting, ridiculing, and belittling me... or worse, hurting me.

Alex: So, Ugly, did the cat get your tongue?

Amelia: No, I... I... —I adjusted a pancake that was about to slide off the stack.

Zach gave me a skeptical look as Alex stepped closer. He placed a hand on my neck and squeezed slightly, slowly cutting off my air supply.

Alex: Don’t lie to us, little girl.

His voice dripped with disdain, as if touching me repulsed him. I swallowed hard and took the risk of looking him in the eye.

Amelia: No, Alex, I’m not lying.

He eased the pressure on my throat, and I gasped in a painful breath, coughing raggedly. That was when I felt Zach tug at my hair tie, letting my hair fall loose.

Amelia: No, please, Zach—don’t break it. Please, it’s the only hair tie I have.

Zach let out a joyless laugh and snapped the elastic. Then, without another word, they headed to the table and began devouring the food.

Alex: You know, Ugly, tomorrow is an important day...

I lowered my head, trying to hide my distress; Alex certainly wasn't talking about my birthday—no one had remembered it in ten years. He was talking about their rise to the rank of Alpha.

Zach: You’d better be very nice to us if you want to stay with us...

Alex: Yes, you’ll have to be very, very nice to us.

Zach: Because if we want, we can force you to live like a vagrant...

Alex: That’s right. And since you don’t have your wolf, you might not survive...

Zach: And you don’t have a mate to take care of you, either...

I took a deep breath; I knew I was probably making a mistake, but I answered:

Amelia: I don’t want a mate...