One

Elara’s POV

The kitchen smelled like burnt bread and rosemary again. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my wrist and shoved another tray of rolls into the massive stone oven. The heat blasted my face like a slap. My arms ached from kneading dough since dawn, and my feet—bare because my only pair of shoes had finally split at the seams—were throbbing against the cold flagstones.

Another ordinary morning in Silver Moon Pack.

Another morning being invisible.

I was used to it.

Most days, I told myself it didn’t matter. I had a roof, food (even if it was the scraps after everyone else ate), and a bed in the attic above the kitchens that no one bothered to check on. I was eighteen in three days. Three days until the full moon ceremony. Three days until the Moon Goddess finally showed me who I belonged to.

That was the only thing that kept me breathing some nights.

I pulled the tray out, the rolls golden and perfect. I arranged them on the cooling rack, counting silently to keep my hands steady. Twenty-four. Enough for the warriors’ breakfast. Not one extra for me. That was fine. I’d eat the heel of yesterday’s loaf later.

The door banged open.

Valentina Reyes swept in like she owned the place—which, technically, she almost did. Her father was the pack’s third-in-command, and she carried herself like the Luna she planned to become. Crimson lips, glossy black hair in perfect waves, leather boots that clicked with every step. Behind her, Sienna Moreau and Talia Voss followed like loyal shadows, smirking.

Talia—my distant cousin, though she never let anyone forget how “distant” it really was—tilted her head.

“Still playing maid, stray?”

I kept my eyes on the rolls. “Just doing my job.”

Sienna laughed, sharp and mean. “Your job is to stay out of sight. Yet here you are, stinking up the kitchen like always.”

Valentina didn’t laugh. She never did when she could do something worse. She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her jasmine perfume—expensive, imported, the kind I’d never touch.

She reached past me and plucked a warm roll from the rack. Tore off a piece. Popped it in her mouth.

“These are dry,” she said around the bite. “You really are useless at everything.”

I clenched my jaw. “They’re fresh. Elder Mara asked for them exactly like this.”

Valentina’s eyes narrowed. She leaned in, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

“You think the Elder likes you? She pities you. Everyone does. Poor little Elara Voss—no parents, no wolf, no future. Just waiting for some miracle mate to save her from scrubbing floors.”

My throat tightened. I hated how her words always found the exact cracks in my armor.

Sienna leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Three more days, right? Your big birthday. Think the Goddess will actually give you someone?”

Talia snorted. “She’ll probably pair her with a rogue. Or nothing at all. That would be fitting.”

Valentina smiled then—slow, cruel. “If she gets anyone, it’ll be some low-rank wolf who can’t even hunt properly. Someone as pathetic as she is.”

I stared at the floor. My nails dug into my palms.

They waited for me to cry. To snap back. To give them the reaction they craved.

I didn’t.

I just turned back to the oven and pulled out the next tray.

Valentina sighed dramatically. “Boring. Let’s go. I have training with Damon.”

At his name, my heart gave a stupid, traitorous lurch.

Damon Blackthorn.

Future Alpha. Golden hair, green eyes that crinkled when he laughed (which wasn’t often, but I’d seen it twice—once when he helped a pup out of a tree, once when he won a sparring match and pretended it was nothing). Broad shoulders, quiet strength, the kind of presence that made the whole pack straighten when he walked by.

I’d had a crush on him since I was fourteen.

It was pathetic. I knew it.

He’d never looked at me twice. Why would he? I was the kitchen girl. The one who disappeared when important people entered a room.

But sometimes, late at night when the pack house was quiet, I let myself imagine it: him noticing me during the ceremony. The bond snapping into place. His eyes softening. Him saying my name like it mattered.

Valentina must have seen something flicker across my face.

She laughed—low, delighted.

“Oh my Goddess. You like him, don’t you?”

Heat flooded my cheeks.

Sienna gasped. “No way. The stray has a crush on the Alpha?”

Talia’s eyes gleamed. “That’s adorable. And tragic.”

Valentina stepped even closer. Her perfume choked me.

“Listen carefully, Elara. Damon is mine. Chosen. Promised. He’s not going to throw away his future for some weak-blooded orphan who can’t even shift. So keep your little fantasies in your dirty head where they belong.”

She flicked a crumb from the roll onto my apron.

“Clean this up before breakfast. Wouldn’t want the Alpha eating after you’ve touched it.”

They left laughing, the door swinging shut behind them.

I stood there, breathing hard.

The rolls were still warm.

I reached for one—then stopped.

Instead, I picked up the fallen crumb and dropped it in the bin.

Three days.

Just three more days.

I could survive three more days.

After that, everything would change.

I told myself that as I scrubbed the counters, as I carried trays to the dining hall, as I dodged the warriors’ careless elbows and the higher-rank she-wolves’ disgusted glances.

I told myself that when I slipped upstairs at dusk, curled up on my thin mattress in the attic, and stared at the sliver of moon visible through the cracked window.

Three days until the ceremony.

Three days until I found out who the Moon Goddess thought I deserved.

I closed my eyes and pictured Damon’s face—not the cold future Alpha, but the boy who’d once smiled at a pup.

Maybe—just maybe—he’d look at me the same way.

Maybe he’d see me.

I fell asleep holding that tiny, fragile hope like it was the only thing keeping me warm.