Chosen by the cursed Alpha king

Chubby.

Fat.

Ugly.

Those words are what I grew up hearing all my life.”

They stick to me like my own shadow, even when I try to push them away, they cling to my skin, whispering in the back of my mind. I don’t remember the first time someone called me chubby. Maybe because it wasn’t just one time. It was every day. Every week,and every year.

In the werewolf world, beauty is strength. A slim, slender body means a strong wolf. A pretty face means better chances at finding your mate. A graceful walk means being admired, respected, chosen.

But me?

I’m “the girl who grew abnormally.” according to my aunt.

I tugged the large grey dress around my body, even though it’s big enough to hide two of me. My aunt refuses to let me wear anything else. “Loose clothes hide your shame,” she always says. “Let no one see how you truly look.”

As if hiding me will erase me.

“Lena!” her voice cuts through the walls like a whip. “Are you dressed? The neighbors will soon pass by. Do not embarrass me today.”

“I’m dressed,” I called back quietly.

I stared at my reflection in the tiny shard of mirror I own. My hair is thick and blonde, falling around my cheeks in soft curls. My eyes are warm brown, the only part of my body I actually like. My lips are full, my face round but gentle.

If I lived in a different world, maybe I would be considered pretty.

But here, all they see is the softness beneath my chin, the curve of my stomach, the thickness of my arms.

No one asks about the rest of me.

No one sees my heart, only my weight.

“Stop standing there like a bloated rabbit,” my aunt snaps as she enters my small room. She eyes me from head to toe. “That shirt is stretching again”

“It’s not stretching,” I whisper. “It’s just the way it hangs.”

“Don’t argue,” she hisses. “You argue and then people think you’re difficult on top of being… well.” She waves a hand at me as if the word itself is too embarrassing to say aloud.

Fat.

She doesn’t have to say it. I hear it in her silence.

“I have chores for you,” she says, already turning away. “The floor needs sweeping before anyone sees dust. You know how they talk.”

I know. They always talk.

They talked last year at the mating ball too.

I had walked into the dazzling hall filled with lanterns and flowers, hoping just for one night to be normal. Wolves my age whispered excitedly, waiting to feel the spark that meant they’d found their mate.

But I…I felt nothing.

The only thing I received were stares, smirks and pitying smiles.

When midnight passed and no mate came for me, I pretended I had a headache and ran home, cheeks burning with humiliation.

My aunt didn’t comfort me. She shrugged and said, “No one wants a chubby mate.Be realistic for once.”

I learned to lower my expectations after that. Sometimes I think I lowered them too much.

As I sweep the wooden floor, my aunt rushes to the window and peeks out. Her eyes widen. “Oh! They’re gathering in the pack square.”

“Who?” I asked.

She gives me a look. “Who else? The entire pack. Today is the remembrance of Alpha Rowan’s death. And that means…..”

“The new Alpha takes his place,” I finish quietly. My heart sinks.

Alpha Damon.

Everyone fears him. Wolves whisper that he’s colder than his father, and shows no mercy. That he kills without blinking. That he was cursed by the moon goddess because of his love for blood.

Some say he once fought five rogues alone and didn’t break a sweat. Some say he killed an elder for questioning him. Some say he has no heart at all.

And no mate.

The last part scares people more than his temper. A mate softens an Alpha’s beast. A Luna balances the pack. No Luna means no peace.

“Heaven knows who he will punish first,” my aunt mutters, fixing her hair. “If you see him, lower your head. Wolves like him do not want to see girls like you.”

I clutch the broom tighter.

“Maybe I should just stay inside,” I say.

“Yes,” she snaps immediately. “Stay hidden. The last thing I need is someone seeing you and asking why I haven’t starved you yet.”

My breath catches. That one hurts more than the others. But I swallow it, the way I always do.

I finish sweeping and wash the single pot we own while my aunt leaves to attend the gathering in the pack square. She complains about me constantly, but she never takes me with her. She says I’ll ruin her reputation.

Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to belong somewhere. To walk in the open without hiding my body. To laugh without watching others first to make sure it’s safe.

I sit on the edge of my bed, pulling my knees to my chest. My wolf stirs inside me, restless.

“We are more than this,” she whispers.

“More than what they say.”

“I know.” I stroke my chest softly. “But knowing doesn’t change anything.”

Outside, the sound of drums echo across the village. Wolves cheering,Wolves mourning, Wolves celebrating the rise of a new Alpha.

Damon, The cursed Alpha.

The blood-soaked one. The leader no one wants to anger.

Even though he’s far from my window, my wolf trembles.

I wanted to attend the ceremony.

My wolf presses closer to my skin.

“He is strong, “she whispers.

“And dangerous.”

“I know,” I breathe.

Hours pass before my aunt returns, bursting into the house with excitement that isn’t normal for her. She throws her cloak onto the chair and fans herself with her hand.

“Well!” she exclaims. “What a day! The new Alpha accepted the position. The elders blessed him. The crowd bowed like he was the moon itself.”

I nod quietly, waiting for her usual insults.

But instead, she looks at me strangely, Almost… thoughtfully.

“What?” I ask uneasily.

“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “Nothing at all.”

She studies me again, and again .

A bad feeling pricks my skin.

The whole rest of the night, she keeps glancing at me, tapping her foot, muttering to herself.

Something is coming. Something I won’t like, but for now, I try to breathe.

Because whatever tomorrow brings…

I can feel in my bones it won’t be good.

And I was right.