The cage

Lily Pendleton

I haven't spoken in three years.

Not because I can't. My vocal cords work fine. I've screamed in my head a thousand times—screamed at Claudia when she slapped me, screamed at Vivian when she laughed, screamed at the mirror when I looked at my reflection and saw nothing but a ghost.

But sound is dangerous. Sound gets you hit. Sound gets you noticed. And being noticed in my house was the worst thing you could be.

So I stopped.

I became furniture. Quiet. Still. Useful.

I washed the dishes. I folded the laundry. I took the blame when Vivian "accidentally" broke her mother's vase. I nodded when Claudia told me I was a burden, a freak, a human parasite sucking the life out of her pureblood wolf family.

I believed her. For a long time, I did.

My name is Lily. I'm nineteen. I have no wolf. I have no scent. I have no voice.

And I'm about to be saved by the only person who actually sees me.

---

The morning it happened, I was in the kitchen, scrubbing a pan that was already clean. My ritual—keep your hands busy, keep your head down, don't give them a reason.

Claudia sat at the table, scrolling her phone. "Vivian's going to the academy next semester," she said, not looking at me. "She'll be a proper Luna one day."

I nodded. Vivian. My stepsister. The golden child. The one with a wolf, a scent, a future. The one who made my life a living hell.

Vivian shuffled in, still in silk pajamas. She yawned, then her eyes landed on me.

"Ugh," she said. "Why is she still here?"

"Your father doesn't care," Claudia said flatly. "She's just... here."

Just here. That was me. A piece of furniture.

I kept scrubbing. Harder.

Vivian walked over and knocked my elbow. The pan clattered into the sink. Water splashed everywhere.

"Oops," she grinned. "Clumsy as always, freak."

I bit my tongue. Don't react. Don't speak.

But my hands were shaking. The scream was building—the one I'd swallowed a thousand times.

Then the front door opened.

The energy shifted. Claudia sat up straighter. Vivian's grin faded.

Damon walked in.

He was massive—six-four, broad shoulders, dark hair tousled. His eyes were cracked ice, sharp and cold. And right now they were locked on me.

"Lily," he said, voice low. "Pack your bag. You're coming with me."

I froze. What?

Claudia stood up. "Damon, you can't—"

"I can," he cut her off. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His Alpha presence filled the room like smoke. "She's my sister. My blood. She's coming to the academy with me."

Vivian scoffed. "The academy? They don't take humans. She'd be a joke."

Damon finally looked at her—really looked—and Vivian took a step back.

"She's not human," he said quietly. "She's my sister. And I'm done letting you treat her like garbage."

My heart was pounding. I pulled out my notepad and scribbled: What about school? What about them?

Damon read it, and his expression softened. He walked over, towering over me, but his touch was gentle. He cupped my face.

"Listen," he said. "You're done with them. You're done with this house. I'm taking you to the Alpha Academy. You'll have a room. You'll have food. You'll have me. No one will touch you again."

I wanted to cry. But I'd forgotten how. The tears dried up years ago.

I just nodded.

Claudia tried again. "Damon, the girl is fine—"

"She's not fine," he snarled. "She hasn't spoken in three years. She flinches when you raise your hand. She's not fine, and you know it."

My stepfather appeared in the hallway, confused and spineless as always. Damon ignored him. He grabbed my duffel bag—the one I'd packed months ago, just in case—and slung it over his shoulder.

"If you try to stop me," Damon said to Claudia, "I'll tear this house apart. And I'll make sure every pack knows how you treated her."

Claudia went white. Vivian's mouth opened and closed. For once, she had nothing to say.

Damon held out his hand to me.

"Come on, Lily. Let's go home."

I stared at his hand. Rough. Warm. The same hand that had taught me to ride a bike, that had promised me, when I was a little girl, that one day I'd take you away from here.

I took it.

And for the first time in three years, I felt something.

Hope.

---

The car ride was silent. Damon drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping mine.

The academy was a fortress—stone walls, iron gates, forests stretching for miles. Students milled about, all gorgeous, all wolves. Their eyes landed on me like I was a zoo animal.

He's bringing a human?

Look at her. She's shaking.

What's a Null doing here?

I wanted to disappear. But Damon's hand stayed on my back, steady.

"Ignore them," he murmured. "You're with me. You're safe."

We walked into the main hall—high ceilings, massive windows, the smell of pine and leather and something wild. Wolf.

And then I saw him.

He was standing with a group of guys, laughing. Tall, dark-haired, a jaw that could cut glass. A body that looked sculpted by a very angry god. He held a hockey stick like a toy, his grin lazy and arrogant.

His eyes were silver-grey. Like a storm cloud.

He looked up. And they landed on me.

The world stopped.

His laughter died. His expression flickered—confusion, surprise, then something hot and sharp. He took a step toward me, body tense, like a predator catching a scent.

Damon stepped in front of me, blocking him.

"Kael," Damon said coldly. "Back off."

Kael blinked, shaking his head like he was waking from a trance. He looked at Damon, then back at me. A slow smirk spread across his face.

"Who's the new toy, Damon? Finally got yourself a pet?"

I flinched. Pet.

"She's my sister," Damon growled. "Off-limits. Remember the rule?"

Kael's smirk faltered. He looked at me—really looked—and I felt it like a punch to the chest. Those silver eyes were devouring me.

"Sister, huh?" he murmured. "Got it. Family's off-limits."

But the way he said it made my stomach flip. Like he was already planning to break that rule.

He turned away, laughing with his teammates. But I felt his gaze on my back the entire time we walked away.

---

I didn't sleep that night. I lay in my new bed—a small dorm room overlooking the forest—and stared at the ceiling.

All I could see was Kael's face. His smirk. His silver eyes. The way he'd said sister like it was a challenge.

He was dangerous. I knew it.

And I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Stupid, I told myself. You're human. He's a wolf. He's a playboy who changes girls every night.

And Damon said family is off-limits.

I closed my eyes. Tried to breathe. Tried to forget.

But his scent lingered in my memory—cedarwood and smoke and something dark. Something addictive.

And for the first time in three years, I felt something other than fear.

I felt want.

---

Next morning, I woke up to a text from Damon: Breakfast at 7. Don't let anyone bully you. You're a Pendleton.

I smiled. Just a little.

I dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater—a human in a world of wolves. The whispers followed me as I walked to the cafeteria.

There she is. The mute girl.

Damon's pet.

Then I heard it.

"Hey. Lily."

I looked up.

Kael was leaning against the wall, coffee in hand, alone. Waiting for me.

"I heard you don't talk," he said softly. "That's okay. I talk enough for ten people."

I stared, confused.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said. "The 'pet' comment. That was shitty."

I blinked. The playboy was apologizing?

I pulled out my notepad: You don't have to apologize.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "Damon's my best friend. You're his sister. That makes you important."

He offered his hand. "I'm Kael. Captain of the hockey team. Professional pain in the ass. I'd like to be your friend."

I stared at his hand. Was this a trick?

But his eyes looked genuine.

Hesitantly, I took it.

His grip was warm. Firm. He held on a second longer than necessary.

Then he smiled—crooked, warm. "Good. Now come on. I'll walk you to breakfast. Damon's gonna lose his mind."

I felt my face heat. Why?

"Because," he leaned down, whispering in my ear, "I'm already breaking the rule. And I just met you."

My heart stopped.

He pulled back, winked, and started walking.

I stood frozen, my hand still tingling.

What have I gotten myself into?