CHAPTER ONE

Aria’s POV

They were on me again, for almost the third time this morning, for completely no good reason. 

My stepmother’s nails clawed across my arm as she dragged me from the kitchen floor. My step-sister, Lyra, kicked me hard in the ribs, laughing as I cried out.

“Get up, slave,” Lyra spat. “You’re not allowed to rest, not when there’s work to do.”

“Please—” I begged, my hands raised in a weak shield. “I’ll finish it. Just—please don’t—”

I felt a hard slap across my face. My face stung from the blow, fresh tears streaming out. 

My stepmother’s voice followed like venom. “You should have died with that cursed mother of yours.”

I bit my lip and didn’t reply. I had learned that talking back only made it worse. Lyra was behind me again, pulling my hair and hissing into my ear.

“You’re filth. You’re not even a real wolf, you are just some half-blood trash, an Impure bitch,” she mocked, pulling my hair harder. 

They didn’t stop until I was crawling on the floor, bleeding from my cheek, my ribs aching, my vision blurry. They beat me into the hallway, laughing the whole time, and when I finally reached my room—a tiny box barely fit for a broom—I shut the door and crumbled onto the cold floor.

I layed there for hours, drowning in my own tears. I could taste blood in my mouth, my body still shaking from pain. I had no one to call, no one who would come look for me, I was completely helpless in this world and that thought alone made it more painful. 

If I died today, which I wouldn't, because my body have already grown used to the torture that sometimes I felt awkward if I wasn't in a life or death situation.

I could still hear Lyra and my step mother laughing downstairs, probably enjoying the meal I cooked and I would be lucky if I even had the leftovers to eat. 

My life wasn't like this, well, it wasn't pleasant because I had no friends, in fact no one in the pack knew I existed— at least not completely, they just didn't care because no one has actually seen me. 

I was born under a cursed moon. That’s what they always said. My mother, a rogue wolf with no pack, died giving birth to me. The pain was too much—she screamed as I entered the world, and the midwife told me later her body gave out before she could even hold me.

My father… He was strong but he didn’t stand up for me, he was a man of honor in the pack, so I guess that's why the Alpha in the pack spared me after hearing I was impure. 

My father never really loved me neither did he despise me, I was just there, like a scar that you hate but since the world can't see it, you aren't too bothered about it but the again you want to get rid of it but you don't know how and then you feel like it's not like it's going to affect your life, if you ignore it… that was the kind of relationship between me and my Dad but he tried in his own quiet way. 

He’d brush my hair sometimes and gave me everything I wanted more like he gave me things he guessed a little girl would like, he wasn't in my business and I wasn't in his, and we were both happy. But he died when I was seven—killed in a hunting accident no one could explain.

After that, it began.

My stepmother moved in and turned my home into a nightmare. Lyra followed her lead like a perfect shadow. They locked away everything my father left me. Took my room, gave me scraps. I became the girl who cleaned the floors, washed their clothes, cooked their food. If I made a mistake, I got hit. If I didn’t smile, I got hit.

They called me the impure. My wolf side, they claimed, was tainted. I had never shifted. Not once. At sixteen, that was shameful. Other wolves shifted at thirteen. Some even earlier.

And I was now almost twenty five, so yeah, I have been living in this hell hole for more than eighteen years. 

“Maybe she’s not even a wolf,” Lyra liked to whisper. “Maybe she’s just a freak.”

I kept my head down as I worked. I barely ate. Sometimes I dreamed of running. But where would I go? I had no pack. No family.

I woke up when the evening light hit my window, I didn't know when I fell asleep. 

Panic seized my chest, I hadn’t started dinner.

I scrambled to my feet, still sore from the earlier beating. My shirt stuck to my back where the wounds hadn’t stopped bleeding. I limped to the kitchen, my heart pounding loudly. 

If I didn’t have food ready, she’d kill me this time.

As I neared the hallway, I heard voices. One wasn’t hers, It was a deep male voice, and that wasn't Lyra's boyfriend, and he was the only male that use to come to our house. 

Oh, I almost forgot, Lyra's boyfriend was a total dick, he tried to take advantage of me everytime he came over and somehow I always got beaten up by Lyra if I refused. 

Her boyfriend would lie to her that I tried to seduce him and Lyra would get mad and beat me up. This has been happening for years but I rather die holding my dignity than die losing it because either way I was going to die. 

I walked closer to the room, curiosity getting the better of me. 

“I’ll take her at first light,” the man said. His voice was cold. “She better be in one piece.”

“She will,” my stepmother replied, laughing low. “She’s strong…too strong. She is going to fit the position.”

There was a rustle of fabric. It was the sound of a lot of coins, perhaps a bag full of them. 

“Pleasure doing business,” he said and left. The front door creaked closed. I remained still, my breath caught up in my throat. 

Sold? Did I hear that right?

Lyra found me a moment later and shoved me hard. “Dinner’s not ready? You’re useless.”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

“Don’t just stand there!” she shrieked. “Move!”

Then my stepmother stepped out of the living room, a smug smile twisting her face. “Leave her, Lyra. I’m in too good a mood to beat her today.”

I stared at her, wide-eyed.

She walked past me, humming. “Go upstairs and pack your things, Aria. You’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

My knees buckled. I dropped to the floor and crawled after her, grabbing her skirt.

“No—please—don’t throw me out. I’ll work harder. I’ll only eat once a day. Please!”

She looked down at me, grinning. “Throw you out? No, sweet girl. That’d be a waste.”

I blinked.

She leaned down. “I sold you.”

The words hit like thunder.

“What?” I whispered.

She stood, laughing, as if she just told a joke.

“You’ll be someone else’s burden now. And they’ll make better use of your dirty little bloodline than I ever could, get yourself ready, you are leaving at dawn.”