PROLGUE

My heart skipped a beat the moment the cafeteria went silent, because I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me who had just walked in.

I kept my head down, focusing on the sandwich on my plate, my fingers trembling as I gripped the fork. Maybe if I was quiet enough, small enough, invisible enough…

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

I froze at Xavier Sterling's voice, my heart thudding frantically as his footsteps echoed closer.

Please walk past. Please walk past. Please…

"Boys, I think something died in here." He stopped right behind me. "Can you smell that? Oh wait, that's just Bennett. My bad."

My shoulders tensed and I recoiled..as if I could disappear in my chair as laughter erupted around us.

"Xavier, man, leave her alone," someone muttered half-heartedly.

"Leave her alone?" His hand slammed down on my table hard enough to rattle my tray. "Why would I do that? She's entertainment, and honestly someone needs to remind the charity cases where they belong."

I kept my eyes on the sandwich, watching lettuce slide out from between the bread.

 Don't react. 

Don't give him what he wants.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Bennett."

I ignored him and took another bite, chewing slowly despite my throat trying to close.

His fingers gripped my chin, yanking my face up with enough force that my neck cracked. Pain shot through me as he forced me to meet his gaze. "I said, look at me."

My eyes met his—those cold green eyes that had haunted my nightmares for three years.

"There she is." His smile sent shivers down my spine. "God, you really are unfortunate looking. Like someone took all the worst features and just slapped them on your face."

"Let go of me." 

He released my chin with a shove that snapped my head back. "So she does speak. I was starting to think you were mute along with being hideously ugly. That would've been a blessing, honestly. Your voice is almost as grating as your face."

Marcus leaned over Xavier's shoulder, grinning. "Dude, my cousin saw her mom at The Den last week. Said she was so high she couldn't stand straight. Was just letting anyone touch her for a few bucks. Or pills. Whatever they had."

The cafeteria exploded with whispers and giggles. Heat crawled up my neck as hundreds of eyes turned toward me.

"Is that true, Bennett?" Xavier circled my table like a predator. "Is your junkie whore of a mother still spreading her legs for the whole pack? How does that feel? Knowing every man in this room has probably had a taste of Mommy dearest?"

My nails dug into my palms hard enough to draw blood. 

Dra

"You don't know anything about my mother."

"Oh, I know plenty." He stopped in front of me, blocking out the light. "I know she's a worthless addict who can't keep her legs closed or a needle out of her arm. I know she lives in a trailer that should've been condemned years ago. I know she's raised an equally worthless daughter who thinks she belongs in an academy for wolves with actual breeding."

"I earned my place here—"

"You earned NOTHING!" He snarled. "You wrote a sob story about your tragic little life and some bleeding-heart committee felt sorry for you. That's what it is."

"It was a merit scholarship based on my entrance exam scores—"

"Merit?" He laughed. "What merit? The merit of being the fattest girl in school? The merit of looking like an inbred pig? The merit of smelling like poverty and desperation every time you walk into a room?"

Tyler leaned in closer, excitement gleaming in his eyes. 

"Yo, Xavier, she does kinda look like a pig though. Look at that fat face."

"Oh my God, you're right!" Xavier slapped his knee, playing it up for the crowd that had circled my table. 

"That's exactly what she looks like. A fat, disgusting pig. We should start calling her that. What do you think, everyone? Does Pig Bennett have a nice ring to it?"

"Pig Bennett!" someone shouted from the back. More laughter erupted, louder this time, feeding off itself.

I stood up so fast my chair crashed backward. "Fuck you, Xavier."

Everyone froze. Even the lunch ladies stopped to watch, shocked that I'd dared speak up to the Alpha's son.

"Oh, there's that backbone. Too bad it's attached to such a worthless body. Seriously, Bennett, how do you even look at yourself in the mirror? Do you see what we all see? A fat, pathetic waste of space whose mother is a drug-addicted prostitute?"

"At least I'm not a spoiled brat whose daddy had to buy his way into this school."

Fuck.

 I knew those words were a mistake the moment they left my mouth.

Xavier's face darkened. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me." My voice shook but I pushed forward anyway. I was too damn tired of always feeling small. "Everyone knows your father donated millions to build the new wing. You didn't earn your place any more than I did. Difference is, I'm actually smart enough to be here."

His hand moved so fast I didn't see it coming.

 He grabbed my lunch tray and dumped everything—sandwich, fruit, chocolate milk—directly over my head. Cold liquid cascaded down my face, soaking into my hair. Bits of food slid down my uniform. The cafeteria erupted in laughter and cheers.

"Oops." Xavier examined his empty hands. "My hand slipped. But honestly, Bennett, this is an improvement. At least now you smell like milk instead of trailer park trash."

I was shaking—from rage, from humiliation, from three hundred pairs of eyes watching my destruction. Milk dripped from my hair onto my shoes.

"Aw, is the little pig going to cry?" Xavier tilted his head mockingly. "Go ahead. Let those tears out. Maybe if you cry hard enough, your junkie mom will sober up for five minutes and actually act like a parent. Oh wait—" He snapped his fingers. "That's never going to happen because she's too busy fucking her way through the pack for her next fix!"

"You're a monster," I whispered, then turned and ran.

The door slammed behind me, but I could still hear them. Still hear the laughter, the cheers, someone chanting 

"Pig! Pig! Pig!" that grew louder with each repetition.

I ran until my lungs burned, until I was far enough away that no one could see me break down against the brick wall behind the gymnasium.

***

The trailer park looked even more depressing in the evening light. Shadows stretched across cracked pavement, and somewhere a dog barked endlessly. The smell of rotting garbage mixed with the chemical stench from the meth lab three trailers down.

I walked slowly, milk dried and crusty in my hair, my uniform ruined. 

Mrs. Chen watched from her window with that pitying expression I'd learned to hate. She knew. Everyone here knew what happened at our trailer.

Then I heard it—Mom's moans cutting through the thin walls, a man's grunting, the rhythmic creak of our ancient couch.

My stomach dropped.

I recognized that grunt. 

Rick. 

The same piece of shit who'd cornered me yesterday while Mom was passed out. Who'd pressed me against the wall, his hand sliding under my shirt while his other hand gripped my wrist tight enough to leave bruises.

"Come on, sweetheart," he'd whispered, whiskey-breath hot against my neck. "You're gonna grow up to be just like Mommy anyway. Might as well start practicing now. I'll be gentle. First time."

I'd kicked him hard enough to make him stumble, then ran to Mom's room. Shook her awake through her high. Her eyes had been glassy, unfocused.

"Stop being so dramatic, Kira," she'd slurred. "Not every man wants to fuck you. Get over yourself. You're not that special."

Now she was fucking him. The man who'd assaulted her daughter less than twenty-four hours ago.

I stood frozen until I was sure they were done and asleep.

I waited five full minutes before going inside. My hands shook as I pushed open the door.

The trailer was a disaster zone. 

Empty bottles covered every surface—vodka, whiskey, cheap wine. Needles littered the coffee table next to a burnt spoon and lighter. Pills scattered everywhere. Cigarette butts overflowed from ashtrays, some still smoldering. The air was thick with smoke and something chemical that burned my nose.

Mom sprawled on the couch, half-naked, unconscious. 

Drool pooled beneath her face, mixing with vomit. Her arm hung at an unnatural angle, fresh track marks running up the inside of her elbow.

How many times had I come home to this exact scene? I'd stopped counting around the time I turned fifteen.

I didn't feel anything anymore. No anger. No sadness. Just nothing. A vast, empty nothing where emotions used to live.

I stepped over a broken beer bottle and headed to my room—barely five feet wide, just enough space for a stained mattress and broken dresser.

I collapsed on the mattress and stared at the calendar tacked to the wall.

Seven days were circled in red marker.

Seven days until I turned eighteen.

Seven days until I could legally leave and never come back to this nightmare.

I traced the burn scars on my forearms—neat, deliberate lines I'd carved into my skin last year when Xavier's words wouldn't stop playing on repeat. 

When "fat disgusting pig" had become the soundtrack to my existence and I needed something else to feel. Pain I chose instead of pain forced on me.

Seven more days, and I would disappear and never look back.