CHAPTER TWO

ALUNA'S POV

The day dragged on like a storm pressing against the horizon. Each hour stretched endlessly as I tried to focus on my chores, my hands scrubbing the training grounds until they ached, my feet sore from running errands the elders deemed important. Yet, no matter how hard I worked, no matter how diligently I followed their orders, it was never enough.

Grace passed by several times, her wolf visible in the shimmer of her aura, each glance from her a silent reminder that she was perfect, untouchable. And I… I was just Aluna. The girl who did not matter.

“Aluna!” Mother’s voice cut through the quiet like a whip. “Come here!”

I hurried to her side, my stomach twisting.

“You missed a spot here,” she snapped, pointing to a corner of the training grounds where a few weeds had stubbornly sprouted.

 “Do you think laziness is allowed in this pack? Do you?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll fix it right away,” I murmured, bowing my head, my cheeks burning.

“You will do more than just apologize. You will kneel in the dirt and weed the entire section before the elders arrive.”

“Yes, Mother,” I whispered, my hands trembling slightly as I dropped to the soil. I dug into the earth, scraping at the stubborn roots with fingers raw and blistered from hours of chores, while the other children watched silently. Some avoided my gaze entirely. Some smirked.

Grace leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, her golden hair shining in the sun. “Do you really think kneeling like that will make anyone respect you, little sister?” Her words were soft, almost sweet—but the venom behind them was unmistakable.

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, forcing my fingers to move faster. “It’s… it’s about doing what’s right,” I said quietly, trying not to meet her eyes.

She laughed, the sound light and cruel. “Right? Or trying to impress the pack? Everyone knows you’re weak, Aluna. You won’t get a wolf. You won’t get a mate. You’ll always be… less.”

My hands froze, the roots slipping through my fingers. Less. 

That word had been my shadow since I could remember. Yet still, a flicker of hope burned inside me. Sixteen was coming. Sixteen meant my wolf, my mate… my chance to finally be someone.

I focused on that thought as the elders approached, their eyes sharp, their presence commanding silence across the grounds. One of them, Elder Mairen, stepped forward, his gaze landing on me.

“Aluna,” he said, his voice deep, measured. “You seem… distracted today.”

“I’m ready, Elder,” I said, forcing my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.”

He studied me for a long moment, and I felt my nerves coil tighter around my heart. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly, and moved on to Grace.

Grace’s wolf shimmered brightly, the aura around her a clear declaration of her strength. The whispers began immediately, subtle murmurs of approval from the pack. I felt invisible. I felt my throat tighten.

And then Wilson appeared, as if summoned by my anxiety. His eyes flicked to me, a mixture of amusement and something I couldn’t name. “Working hard, Aluna?” he asked casually, though the smirk on his lips told me he wasn’t asking out of kindness.

“Yes,” I said quietly, keeping my hands deep in the dirt.

“Good,” he said, though the word sounded like a mockery. “You’ll need all that practice. Sixteen is not kind to girls who expect too much.”

I flushed, biting my lip to keep from snapping at him. He had no right to mock me. Not now. Not ever.

The elders began their rounds, checking the younger children for signs of wolf awakening, for any hints of mate bonds forming early. Every time they passed me, I felt their judgment pressing down, heavy as stone.

“Aluna,” one whispered to Grace as they walked past, their voice thick with barely concealed pity. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

I clenched my fists, pretending not to hear. Ready. Was I ever ready when the pack only saw my flaws?

By afternoon, the sun had reached its peak, and my body was trembling from exhaustion and hunger. Grace sat comfortably on a bench, her food neatly placed before her, while I knelt on the ground, my stomach growling as I scraped stubborn dirt from the stones.

Mother approached then, her eyes cold. “You will not eat until you finish every task I have set for you. And even then, you will take only what I allow.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said, swallowing back the tightness in my throat.

Grace leaned forward, her voice mockingly gentle. “Poor Aluna. Always so eager to please, and yet… always falling short.”

I looked up at her, my hands clenched into fists, dirt beneath my nails, tears threatening to spill, but I forced them back. I would not let her see me break. Not today. Not when sixteen was just a few months away. My wolf. My mate. My moment. I would endure this. I had to.

Hours passed. I carried water, swept the grounds, prepared herbs, and ran errands that made my knees scrape against rocks and dirt. 

My body ached, my skin burned from the sun, but the thought of what was coming kept me moving. I whispered to myself as I worked, a small mantra no one could hear: Sixteen. My wolf. My mate. Soon.

And yet, the humiliation never ceased. Grace would pass by, whispering to the younger ones, pointing at me, laughing so softly that the sound pierced me sharper than any blade. 

Mother would sigh in disapproval at my every movement, chastising me for mistakes that barely existed. 

Wilson would appear at random moments, leaning against trees or doorframes, smirking, watching me work as if my struggle was entertainment.

By evening, I returned to our small cabin, my arms sore, my back aching, but my heart still clinging to hope. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the pack grounds. I sank to the floor beside the hearth, exhausted.

Grace leaned against the doorway, golden hair glowing in the firelight, her smile triumphant. “You look tired, Aluna. But I’m sure you’ll be awake for your birthday. Hopefully, it won’t be… disappointing.”

I felt the sting of her words, sharp and cruel. But still, I whispered to myself, clinging to the fragile thread of anticipation: Sixteen. My wolf. My mate. Soon.

Night fell. The forest outside whispered with the sound of distant wolves, their calls carrying through the cool air. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every smile, every word, every glance. The pack may despise me, may mock me, may humiliate me, but I would endure. My time was coming. Sixteen. My wolf. My mate.

And then, just as sleep began to pull me under, a shadow moved across the cabin wall. A flicker of movement, quick, too fast to be human. I froze. My heart hammered in my chest.

Something… or someone… was outside. Watching. Waiting.

I held my breath, listening. The wind rustled through the trees, but the shadow had vanished. Yet the unease remained, curling in my stomach like a living thing.

I swallowed hard, clenching the sheets. Sixteen was close. 

Too close. 

And now, som

ething told me that when that day came, it would not be simple.

It would change everything.