Chapter 3: Birthdays

I woke up staring at the cracked ceiling of the attic. My alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, but I didn’t have the energy to move. I just lay there on my back, listening to the faint creaks of the old attic as if it were breathing around me. For a while, I stayed still, trying to savour the taste of my upcoming freedom.

It's my 18th birthday—the day I'm finally free from this hell.

My birthday—or at least, it should’ve been. But in this house, in this pack, I didn’t exist. Today belonged to Damian Wolfe. The golden heir.

I pushed myself up slowly, the thin mattress beneath me groaning with the movement. For years, I had slept on it, I never once found it comforting. I glanced at it now, almost as if to say goodbye, though I doubted it would miss me. I sat at the edge of the bed and pulled my knees to my chest.

“Happy birthday, Skye,” I whispered into the still air. The words fell flat and cold.

I moved the moment I heard the head maid’s voice barking out my name from downstairs.

By the time I reached the bottom of the attic stairs, the entire house was already buzzing with movement. The halls were filled with maids hurrying back and forth while Martha stood in the middle, shouting instructions at anyone who dared to slow down.

Outside, I heard the slam of a car door, followed by the cheerful chatter of more arriving guests. The sound of laughter and greetings carried into the house, mixing with the frantic movements of the servants inside. Pack members were streaming in quickly, and that could only mean one thing: if the Luna caught me standing here uselessly watching instead of working, she would have my head.

But I couldn't help but admire them, seeing them dressed luxuriously.

The whole region had been invited to Damian’s coronation. Since the Luna and Alpha of Silverclaw Pack is also well-known throughout the region, it is certain that other prestigious packs would be invited to come.

It is also possible that royal pack such as the Lycans are invited.

I jolted back to reality when Martha’s figure suddenly appeared right in front of me, her sharp eyes narrowing as though she had caught me stealing time.

“Skye!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “What the hell are you standing there for? Get your ass to work!”

Her words made my stomach drop. Without protest, I turned and hurried away, knowing better than to argue. I rushed to the servant quarters and quickly changed into the maid’s uniform waiting for me.

As I tied the strings behind me, I couldn’t stop the thought from creeping in. A part of me wondered what my life might have looked like if I had been born into one of those families I saw arriving. I would have worn something beautiful, not this plain maid’s clothing that marked me as invisible.

I passed through the kitchen with my head down as I walked. The space was alive with noise and motion. I saw Martha laughing and gossiping with her two close attendants.

“Oh, Martha, that smells divine! Damian’s going to love it,” someone gushed, her voice rising above the clatter of pots.

“Do you think the Moon Goddess will show him his mate tonight?”

“Who do you think it’ll be? Maybe one of those she-wolves from that prestigious academy?”

“Ugh, lucky bitch,” another voice drawled.

They all burst into laughter at once and it filled the kitchen like the smell of food. No one paused as I slipped behind them and no one even glanced my way. I could’ve been a breeze moving past them, or a stain on the wall, or a shadow at the edge of their vision. That was all I’d ever been to them.

I grabbed the cleaning supplies from the closet and pushed open the bathroom door. The sharp mix of lemon cleaner and bleach hit me like an old, familiar greeting. I rolled up my sleeves and dropped to my knees, scrubbing tiles until my fingers stung.

It was the Luna’s idea—her punishment for yesterday, after someone had told her Damian had spoken to me, and she’d lost her mind when she found out.

I didn't mind. Scrubbing toilets didn’t bother me anymore. I’d grown up on this kind of work, besides I never liked her precious son. And after tonight, it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t be here anymore. I was leaving this hell for good, and nothing—not even the Luna—was going to stop me.

But something tugged at me. A reckless impulse I couldn’t shake.

Just a peek, I told myself. Just for a second. What harm could it do?

I cracked open the door and crept down the hallway, hugging the shadows like they were stitched to me. Curiosity pushed me forward, even though I knew better. Curiosity was cruel, especially on a night like this—especially on my birthday.

I followed the soft hum of celebration drifting through the halls. The golden glow of candles drew me like a moth, brighter and brighter until the sound of music and laughter rose thick in the air. My steps slowed as I neared the wide archway that opened into the ballroom.

The sight on the other side struck me like a punch to the chest.

The entire room sparkled.

Fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling in glittering threads, glowing like constellations brought down from the night sky. Chandeliers shimmered with crystals, each one scattering light across silk gowns and polished shoes. Tables sagged under the weight of dishes I had only ever seen in glossy magazines—platters of roasted meats, bowls of bright fruits, trays of delicate pastries that gleamed like jewels.

And then, like the Goddess herself had cursed me with timing, a voice sliced through the air behind me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I froze.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. His voice was low, quiet—but it cut sharper than a blade. He didn’t need to raise it. The weight in his tone was enough to demand absolute stillness.

My body obeyed before my mind caught up. My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, my pulse hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. Slowly, I turned.

Damian Wolfe stood only two steps behind me.

Tall. Unreadable. Shadows clung to him as if they belonged there, draped across the sharp lines of his frame. His presence filled the hallway, leaving no space for air. He was too close, close enough that my lungs forgot how to work.

His steel-blue eyes locked onto me, pinning me where I stood. The polished floor beneath my feet might as well have turned to ice.

“I—I was just…” My throat dried up before the words could form properly. I forced them out, broken and small. “I finished the bathroom and thought—”

“You thought you’d sneak a look?” His brow arched slightly, his voice even. Not loud. Not harsh. Just steady. Steady enough to sting more than if he had shouted. “That’s not your place.”

The words cut deeper than they should have. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how. His tone was final, sharp, like he was reminding me of my rank. Like I was dirt trying to pretend I could shine like a star.

“I wasn’t going to stay. I swear,” I whispered, lowering my eyes to the floor. My voice trembled even though I fought to steady it.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched thin between us. I expected him to turn away, to tell me to go back to scrubbing until my knees gave out.

Instead, his voice dropped—quieter now, unreadable.

“I never said you couldn’t enter.”

My eyes flicked up before I could stop them. The words startled me, knocking the air from my lungs. He wasn’t mocking me. His face was carved from stone, sharp and cold, but something in his tone had shifted.

“I—what?” I managed, the word barely more than a breath.

“I never said you can’t enter,” he repeated, slower this time, each syllable deliberate.

His gaze didn’t waver. It lingered, steady, searching my face as though he were trying to find something hidden deep inside me—something even I didn’t understand.

“You just assumed you weren’t allowed.”