Chapter 3 Runaway

Victoria

I was still smiling from my night with Leo as I slipped back into the mansion, dawn just breaking across the pack house. The soreness between my thighs was a delicious reminder of what had happened—how I'd taken control of my own destiny for once. I'd done it. I'd given away what Enzo had been planning to sell. For once in my miserable life, I'd made my own choice.

My victorious mood lasted precisely three seconds after entering the living room.

"You worthless little bitch! You thief!" Enzo's voice thundered through the house as he grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him. His eyes—normally a cool blue—had shifted to their wolf hazel, a clear sign of his rage. He gripped my chin roughly, tilting my face to examine the marks on my neck. "What the hell have you done? How am I supposed to negotiate with Alpha Moretti now?"

I couldn't suppress my smile, even as his fingers dug painfully into my jaw. Every single thing that made Enzo unhappy was a small victory for me.

"Let me go," I said, voice steadier than I expected. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He shoved me against the wall, his hand moving to my throat. "Don't play dumb. Five thousand dollars missing from my safe. And look at you—covered in another man's scent, bruises on your neck." He leaned closer, inhaling deeply. "You reek of sex. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you were selling me like cattle?" I shot back, finding courage in my anger. "Trading me to settle your pathetic gambling debts?"

Enzo's eyes widened slightly. "You don't understand pack politics," he sneered. "Alpha Moretti is offering you a position most she-wolves would kill for. You should be grateful—"

"Grateful?" I laughed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "For being handed over to a thirty-two-year-old monster? A man known for breaking his partners during sex? I'd rather die."

His lips curled into a cruel smile. "You think being Luna to a powerful Alpha is worse than what you are now? A pathetic half-breed who can't even shift? Father may have bonded with your human mother, but that doesn't change what you are."

The mention of my parents sent a spike of pain through my heart. "At least my mother didn't abandon her mate and child," I hissed. "Unlike darling Aurora, who ran away when things got tough."

It was a low blow, and I knew it. Aurora, Enzo's mother, had betrayed our father and left the pack when Enzo was just a child. She only returned with eight-year-old Enzo after learning my human mother had died giving birth to me. By then, Father was devastated by grief, barely functioning as Alpha.

"Don't you dare speak of my mother," Enzo growled. "At least she came back. Yours just died and left you as a burden for everyone else."

The words stung more than they should have. I knew my mother hadn't chosen to die—childbirth complications from carrying a hybrid baby had weakened her human body beyond recovery. She'd held on until I was three, growing weaker each day, before finally succumbing.

"You weren't always like this," I said quietly. "Before Father died, you were different. You used to protect me, remember? You taught me how to ride a bike. You threatened to beat up the kids who called me half-breed."

Something flickered in Enzo's eyes—a shadow of the brother I'd once known. Before he became Alpha. Before the gambling and prostitutes and drugs had eaten away at whatever moral compass he once possessed.

"That was before I understood what a liability you are," he said, but his voice held less conviction. "Before I understood pack hierarchy."

"Before Luna Aurora poisoned you against me."

His expression hardened again. "Enough! You think you're so smart with your little rebellion? You've just made things worse for yourself. What do you think Moretti will do when he discovers you've given away what he paid for?"

I lifted my chin defiantly. "I don't belong to him. Or to you."

The slap came without warning, the force of it snapping my head to the side and sending me sprawling across the coffee table. Glass shattered as I crashed into it, cutting my arms and legs as I fell.

"You belong to whoever I say you belong to!" Enzo roared, standing over me. "You think I enjoy being in debt to Moretti? You think I enjoy having to hand over my own sister to settle it? This is your fault! If Father hadn't wasted so much of our fortune on your human mother's medical treatments—"

"Don't you dare blame her!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face now. "Don't you dare blame a dying woman who loved her family more than anything!"

Enzo grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me to my feet. "Clean this mess up," he hissed. "Then stay in your room until I figure out how to fix your stupidity."

I wanted to fight back. I wanted to claw at his face, to make him bleed the way he'd made me bleed countless times. But without my wolf, I was no match for an Alpha werewolf's strength. I'd learned that lesson through too many broken bones and bruises.

"I hate you," I whispered, my voice shaking with rage and pain.

"Feeling's mutual, little sister." He shoved me toward the shattered remains of the coffee table. "Clean it up. Now."

I dropped to my knees, carefully picking up shards of glass with trembling hands. Tears blurred my vision as I worked, the cuts on my palms stinging. How had my life come to this? I was the daughter of Alpha Howlthorne, once respected leader of our pack. Now I was nothing but property to be traded away.

Enzo watched me for a few minutes, his presence a looming threat, before finally stalking off to his study with a disgusted grunt. Only when I heard the door slam did I allow myself to really cry, silent sobs shaking my body as I continued cleaning.

By the time I finished, my knees were cramped and my hands were bleeding from several cuts. I dragged myself to my room, pulling the first-aid kit from under my bed where I kept it hidden. Enzo had "accidentally" thrown away my medical supplies too many times for me to keep them in the bathroom anymore.

The face that stared back at me from my vanity mirror was barely recognizable. A red handprint bloomed across my left cheek, my bottom lip was split, and the light in my eyes—what little remained—seemed dimmer than ever. The bruises Leo had left on my neck now looked less like badges of rebellion and more like markers of another failed attempt at freedom.

I dabbed antiseptic on my cuts, wincing at the sting. "Happy birthday to me," I whispered bitterly to my reflection.

My mother had been gone for fifteen years now. Sometimes I couldn't remember her face without looking at photographs. I missed her. I missed my father. I even missed the Enzo who used to sneak me extra dessert and teach me how to throw a proper punch.

The tears came again, hot and relentless. I'd turned eighteen yesterday—the age when most werewolves shift for the first time. But my wolf never emerged. Another sign of my unworthiness, according to Enzo. Another reason I'd never truly belong in the wolf world.

I'd considered running away to my human aunt Sarah's home several times, but I knew better. If I involved my human relatives, Enzo wouldn't hesitate to hurt them. Besides, what could humans do against an Alpha werewolf determined to get his property back?

I touched the necklace at my throat—the only thing I had left of my mother. A simple silver crescent moon pendant that had somehow survived Enzo's many attempts to pawn my possessions.

"What do I do now, Mom?" I whispered to the empty room. "I thought I was being so clever, giving away what Enzo was selling. But now..."

Was this really my fate? To be handed over to Alpha Moretti like some prized breeding mare? I'd heard the stories about him—how his sexual appetites were violent, even by werewolf standards. How he'd been cursed by the Moon Goddess for some ancient transgression, cursed to destroy anything he tried to love.

I curled up on my bed, ignoring the pain from my various injuries. Maybe I could run tonight. Take what little money I had saved and just disappear. It wouldn't be much of a life, constantly looking over my shoulder, but it would be mine.