Beneath The Mask Of Vengeance

I watch them laugh.

The ballroom glitters beneath crystal chandeliers, wolves hidden behind elegant masks. Some dance. Some drink. Some flirt.

Most of them stare in my direction, hiding their words behind their palms with short giggles.

Even so, all of them look like they belong here.

I don't.

A girl in an owl mask catches my eye across the room. The moment our gazes meet, she whispers something to the boy beside her.

My lips twitch, curving upward in a desperate attempt at a smile. They both look away.

They always do.

Still, I try. To smile. To wave. To heck, even start a conversation but they never see me the way they see each other.

I am smaller. Weaker.

Weirder.

The awkward heir they only glimpse once in a blue moon. The fragile girl who never attends the same schools, the same gatherings.

I should have just stayed home.

My thumb finds the edge of my fingernail before I even notice I'm doing it. A small, sharp sting.

I look down. A bead of blood.

Of course. My bad habit.

I press my finger into the fold of my blue dress, hiding it before anyone can see. Not that they're looking. Not that they ever do.

I am not worth a candle next to them. And that is totally fine.

I made peace with that years ago. But my father—the Alpha—believes otherwise. He thinks a girl who has spent her whole life in the shadows simply needs the right room to step into the light.

A masquerade ball. His grand idea of a gentle push.

"Hey." A boy, as tall as a Viking with muscles that could compete against Zeus, stands right in front of me.

A matte-black raven mask covers everything but his flushed-red lips. He smiles, showing off his perfect pearly teeth with sharp canines that sparkle under the night light.

"You good?"

"Huh…"

Is he talking to me?

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to find some other weregirl standing behind me that he is actually addressing. There is no one.

"You're the celebrant, ay?" He speaks yet again, but my jaw refuses to cooperate.

I've never been approached by a boy. Never had the chance to.

And dumb Drake from summer camp at seven years old doesn't count as a boy. The year I got to realise just how different I was from them all and how dangerous my secret was.

"Uhm…yes." I half answer, half stutter, but I'm still grateful the words can form.

He chuckles as I watch his chest vibrate to the richness of his laugh.

"You seem like fun." He walks closer until I am almost dwarfed by him. "Why don't you come join us over there?" Raven mask points to a small gathering.

Their gazes are all on me. Piercing.

Like I am some sort of prey.

"I…"

His hands reach for mine before I can stop him, pulling them gently from the folds of my dress.

I freeze.

He turns it over, studying the small marks scattered across my fingertips from years of my bad habits.

"Pretty hands." He says.

I try to pull them away. My insecurity clawing even harder.

He has to be lying or be blind…or maybe both, considering someone like him approached someone like me.

"You don't have to say that." My voice falls low, almost like a plea.

He laughs. "I'm not saying that to be nice, let's go."

He leads me and I let him this time, walking slowly behind him yet fast enough to match his long strides until we stop right in front of the gathering.

A gathering of now five wolves and an abnormal.

"You're worse than I heard." A girl, swan-masked, speaks before I can show off my practised attempt of a smile.

"Hey, don't go so hard on her now." Raven mask laughs.

My brows furrow.

"Look at her, how can this lead us?" Another — a phoenix mask — speaks. Raven mask squeezes my hands slowly before releasing.

"She's going to lead us either way so we may as well be good to her." Raven mask replies, then turns to me. "Don't you think?"

What is this?

"You're eighteen already, you'll have no choice but to begin your journey of being an Alpha so consider this a light welcome." A falcon mask says. "We'll take the stress of leading the pack off you so it doesn't kill you."

They all laugh.

"Wha…what's going on?" I say, regretting almost speaking the moment I hear how pitiful my voice sounds.

"Don't you get it already?" Swan mask huffs, turning to the rest. "Is she slow as well?"

My heart aches, like a rain of spears has landed in one place.

I feared this day. The day I'd be noticed by them.

"I'd be better off an Alpha than her." Swan continues, her gaze lingering on me with disgust.

This is how they all see me.

With disgust.

Some people would've pretended to at least like me, but I am not worth their pretence.

"You're all so pathetic." My mouth moves before my brain.

"What?" Swan snaps.

"You'll never be an Alpha and that's not because of your insufferable arrogance but because you just don't have the blood." I draw nearer. "You're weaker, lesser and insignificant."

"Say that shit one more time and I swear to the goddess you'll know the true meaning of weaker." Swan steps even closer, anger seeping through the pores of her skin.

The rest of the wolves gather around, forming a circle to close me in. Evil smirks plaster across all their faces except Swan's, whose eyes are slowly turning red.

The hairs on her skin thicken as her nails grow longer. The evil smirk that follows can only mean one thing.

Branding.

A humiliation ritual done to innocent victims. The bully writes their initials on the forehead of the werewolf victim and it takes a full day to clear.

But I am not a werewolf. It'll take forever to heal.

I can't let them.

"Kneel." Swan commands.

"I am your Alpha."

"You're probably not even the real heir to the throne." She backfires, sneering. "Kneel and be branded."

I stand rigid, refusing to kneel to these bullies.

I'd never had the chance to be bullied—always sheltered between the walls of the estate because of what I am—but somehow, a little part of me always knew that if I ever had to come out of those walls, I'd face this kind of humiliation.

My eyes burn from unshed tears, my palm bleeds from piercing nails, and my knees quiver beneath the layers of my dress.

If they see me cave or bare my neck, I'll never be their Alpha.

I'll forever be a puppet with a title.

"Don't make me do my worst." Swan grits her teeth as her aura presses in from around me. Suffocating.

My vision hazes over the five, laughing in mockery.

Mocking me.

What have I done to deserve this?

"What is going on here?" A fierce voice breaks through the tension, causing the five to squirm back into position.

Leaving me open to the eyes of everyone around me. Naked.

"My precious, are these your friends?" My father, the Alpha of Winterhowl Pack, speaks, turning his now softened gaze toward me.

But he knows damn well.

He knows too well that they're not my friends and were about to humiliate me in the worst way possible.

Anger fills my veins as my chest rises and falls like it could burst out of me any second.

"Kneel." I speak, voice fierce.

"What?" Swan mask snaps back, but the instant her eyes fall on my father, she lowers her trembling gaze.

"Do not make me repeat myself."

The atmosphere thickens with everyone around the ballroom watching us in awe.

Swan mask has no choice. Slowly, she bends until her knees touch the bare floor, but something in me isn't satisfied.

Like a dark cloud slowly consuming my thoughts, I want the same humiliation on her. I want worse.

I want to prove to them that I am not just a person they can drag around like a ragdoll. A desperate attempt at self-validation.

Perhaps I truly haven't made peace with the fact that I am not worth a candle to them.

My gaze falls on Raven mask, the boy who started it all.

"Brand her."

His eyes widen in disbelief, like he has seen a ghost.

"Do it."

He has no choice. It is either going against the Alpha or ruining his friendship.

An obvious decision.

Swan lifts her eyes to him in desperation, but his choice has already been made.

I turn, walking away from what was meant to be my eighteenth birthday celebration. A coming out.

"No, please." I can hear her beg but I don't turn back.

I continue to walk toward the mansion with the piercing eyes of guests following me, but it is different this time.

Their reverence can be felt.

"Don't do this." Her begs turn into shrieks. "Please!" A gut-wrenching scream ruptures through the sound of flesh piercing as hushed gasps fill the ballroom.

To hell with them.