Rudela - The Slum Girl

Rudela,

In the Golden Moon Pack, a she-wolf had to marry and be marked by her mate between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.

Every year the pack held the annual Mate Choosing under the Moon Oracle, where destined and chosen mates declared themselves to prove their bond.

Today was that celebration, and just like the eight years before it, I stood alone beneath the Oracle with no one at my side.

I was twenty-six.

“Holy shit. She still shows her face?” a girl whispered behind me while she danced with her mate. “Eight years. Eight years and still no one.”

“Look at her. Who would pick that? Old, looks like a pig. Not a scrap of beauty on her.”

I clenched the hem of the dress I had borrowed from my neighbor. Tears burned, but I kept my chin up. The moment the bell rang from the center of the Oracle, ending the night, I slipped out and stopped under the big oak tree at the edge of the grounds.

The words had cut deep, yet my heart was not broken. I was waiting for someone.

He came then, walking toward me with a wide smile. “Rudela.”

My chest loosened the second he said my name. Kyle Victor, my mate, closed the last steps in a rush and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m late again.”

“It’s all right,” I said softly. “How did it go?”

He drew back just enough to hand me a yellow envelope sealed with an official stamp. My eyes went wide. The tears I had held back finally fell.

“Finally,” I whispered. “We finally have a way out.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to my forehead before wrapping me close again. “Yes, my love. We can leave that hell behind.”

I cried against his chest, the invisible weight I had carried for so long easing at last.

Kyle and I had grown up in the poorest corner of the pack. We shared moldy bread, went hungry for days, and faced every hard season side by side. After his parents’ accident, the full load of the family fell on us. For six years we had been married in the quiet presence of his family, but pack law demanded the Moon Goddess’s blessing before a union could be recognized. The job he needed required an unmarried man, so we hid everything. I worked twelve-hour shifts in the mines every weekend and eight hours per day in three different jobs on weekdays, just to keep him presentable for the interviews.

“I’ll give you the best life, Rudela. I promise,” he murmured against my ear.

“Thank you.”

He was my mate, my husband, and the future I had poured every hour into. All I wanted now was to leave the slum and build something that belonged only to us.

That month we searched for an apartment near his new company, but the rents were too high. His siblings already lived and worked in other parts of the pack, leaving only his parents for us to care for.

“Can’t you cook anything better?” my mother-in-law hissed one evening. She flung the plate to the floor. “My son gives you money and this is the dog shit you serve?”

The crash startled me. I stared at the scattered food, then at her. “Did you just break the plate?” My voice shook.

“So what? You worthless pig. Still clinging to us without a shred of shame.”

I looked at Kyle. His face had gone cold. He turned to his mother.

“Mom, if you can’t show basic gratitude to the person who has been taking care of you, then leave.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you just tell your own mother to leave?”

“What else should I say? Three months ago you were eating moldy scraps. Two months ago my wife carried you to the hospital because we couldn’t afford the bus. Today you throw away the food we bought and cooked. Have you forgotten where you stand?”

I lowered my gaze, a tangle of relief and sorrow twisting inside me. She had not always been like this. Before Kyle’s job she had been gentle, soft-spoken. My father-in-law stayed quiet, still respectful in his silence.

“You ungrateful child,” she snapped. “How dare you speak to me that way? How will you face your coworkers with this woman on your arm? It’s humiliating.”

“Enough.” Kyle’s voice cut through the room. He took my hand. “Come on. Whether she eats or not is her choice.”

He led me into our bedroom and shut the door hard against her shouting.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I truly am. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“It’s all right.” I managed a small smile.

“No, it isn’t.” He sat on the edge of the chair. “I’ve been thinking about this since the insults started. I want us in a proper apartment, one with room for the children we’ll have someday. Until then, I don’t want you living under the same roof as them.”

My pulse jumped. “What are you going to do? You can’t just abandon your parents.”

He shook his head. “I’m not abandoning them. I spoke with Russell. He agreed to take them in.”

Russell was his second brother, newly at university and barely scraping by.

“How will he manage?” I asked.

“I’ll send a fixed amount every month. Don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll take them over.”

“It’s so sudden. What if they refuse? And your father needs his medicine regularly. How will he manage without me there?”

Kyle reached for my hands and held them gently. “Stop carrying them. It’s time we carried ourselves.”

How could I stop? I had grown up with them. My mother-in-law used to call me her daughter. With no parents or relatives of my own, they had raised me. In the slum we all worked for the little food we shared, yet they had still been the only family I knew.

When I stayed silent, he leaned in and kissed me. “Trust me. Everything will be all right. Let me take care of you for once, for still loving them after everything.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “Next year we have to attend the Mate Choosing. I’m done being the joke of the pack.”

A wounded look crossed his face. “I’m so sorry, love. Next time I’ll be there. I promise.”