Chapter 4

Elle's POV

I stood outside my family's small apartment in the human district, my hand frozen on the doorknob. The shouting from inside made my stomach clench. I recognized Grandma Grace's shrill voice cutting through the thin walls, followed by what sounded like something breaking. Part of me wanted to turn around and walk away, find somewhere else to spend the night. But I'd come all this way to check on my foster mother.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The scene that greeted me made my blood run cold. Susan, my foster mom, was on her knees in the living room, her head bowed as Grandma Grace towered over her, red-faced with fury. Broken ceramic pieces were scattered around Susan's knees.

"You call this clean?" Grandma Grace screamed, throwing more shards of what used to be a dinner plate at Susan's face. "Look at these spots! Are you blind as well as stupid?"

Susan didn't look up, didn't defend herself. I could see a purplish bruise forming on her forehead. How long had she been kneeling there?

I dropped my bag and rushed forward, dropping to my knees beside her.

"Grandma Grace, please," I begged, putting my arm around Susan's trembling shoulders. "Susan just missed a few spots. You don't have to hit her!"

Grandma Grace's attention snapped to me, her eyes narrowing. "Look who finally decided to visit!"

I bit my tongue. I couldn't tell her I'd been at work, exhausted and heartbroken, then requested sick leave. I definitely couldn't mention what had happened with Brad Rayne. The memory flashed through my mind—his amber eyes, the heat of his skin—and I quickly pushed it away.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "Work was busy."

"Work?" she scoffed. "That pathetic job in the human section? I bet your salary this month won't even cover your share of the expenses again."

Susan tried to speak up. "Elle works very hard—"

"Shut up!" Grandma Grace snapped. "Nobody asked you."

I felt Susan flinch beside me and tightened my arm around her. "Please stop yelling at her."

Grandma Grace leaned down, her face inches from mine. "You spend all day God knows where, come home at all hours, and don't help with a single chore. Your foster mother spoiled you rotten!"

The injustice of it burned in my chest. I worked longer hours than anyone in this house, yet came home to this abuse. But arguing would only make things worse.

"I'll help with chores now," I offered quietly. "Let me clean up this mess."

Grandma Grace snorted. "Too little, too late. You're just like your mother—useless!"

She grabbed her teacup from the side table and hurled it toward Susan. Without thinking, I shifted my body to shield her. The cup shattered against my back, hot tea soaking through my already stained blouse. I felt sharp pain as ceramic fragments cut into my skin.

Susan gasped. "Elle!"

I gritted my teeth against the pain. "I'm fine."

The front door opened, and my cousin Megan bounced in, carrying shopping bags. Instantly, Grandma Grace's expression transformed.

"My sweet girl is home!" she cooed, her rage vanishing like it had never existed. She hurried over to Megan, completely ignoring Susan and me still kneeling on the floor. "What did you bring, darling?"

Megan smirked at me over Grandma's shoulder as she pulled out snacks from her bags. "Look what Tyler bought for me today, Grandma. He says his boss in the mixed district might have another position open soon."

"That's wonderful!" Grandma Grace beamed, stroking Megan's hair. She turned to glare at us. "See? Megan found herself a boyfriend with connections to werewolf employers. That's how you get ahead in this world! Not like you two, satisfied with scraps."

I helped Susan to her feet, noticing how she winced in pain. "Come on, let's clean your cuts."

The front door opened again, and Dad slipped in quietly. He took in the scene—the broken dishes, Susan's bruises, the blood seeping through my blouse—and looked away, his eyes darting nervously to Grandma Grace.

"Mom," he said carefully, "maybe that's enough for tonight? If Susan can't cook dinner because she's hurt, we'll all go hungry. And it's full moon week—humans can't go out after dark to get food."

I stared at him in disbelief. That was his concern? Not that his wife and daughter were being abused, but that dinner might be delayed?

"We're leaving," I announced suddenly, grabbing Susan's hand. "Come on, Susan. We don't have to stay here."

Susan's eyes widened in panic. She yanked her hand from mine and lunged toward the kitchen. "No! I'll cook! I'll start dinner right now!"

She grabbed a knife and began frantically chopping vegetables, her hands shaking so badly I was afraid she'd cut herself. "See? I'm cooking. Everything's fine."

The sight of her desperate attempt to please Grandma Grace broke something inside me. She was too afraid to leave, too conditioned to believe this was all she deserved.

"Susan, please..." I whispered.

But she shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face as she kept chopping. "I'm sorry, I'll be better. Please don't be angry."

I knew then that I couldn't convince her to leave tonight. This psychological prison was too strong, built over decades of abuse.

I decided to grab my bag and leave. No one tried to stop me as I walked out.

On the bus back to the city center, I watched the dividing line between the human district and the mixed zone pass by my window. Streetlights grew brighter, buildings newer. My phone buzzed with a text from Jason.

"Elle, what's going on with you? Why aren't you answering my calls? Everything's great here, call me when you get this. Love, Jason."

And then he called.

My finger hovered over the answer button, but I couldn't bring myself to press it. What would I even say? "Hey, I slept with Brad Rayne, the Alpha werewolf CEO of Rayne Group"?

Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, I tucked my phone away. It was easier to hide than to face the truth. Easier to pretend I hadn't seen the incoming calls than to say the words that would make it all real.

I silenced my phone and pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching the city lights blur through my tears. One day, I promised myself, I'd make enough money to get Susan out of that house.

But first, I needed to survive myself.