3

I served dinner, moving quick and quiet around the dining room, setting plates in front of the pack members without making a sound. Katrina’s glare burned into me the whole time, her eyes like daggers sharp enough to slice through my skin. If looks could kill, I’d be a goner, sprawled out on the floor. I kept my head down, focusing on the plates, the clink of silverware, anything but her. After serving, I stepped to the side, same as always, waiting to clean up their mess when they were done. My spot by the wall felt like a cage, but I stood there, hands clasped, face blank.

The rest of the evening dragged on without any big blowups, thank the Moon Goddess. Katrina kept up her death stare, though, and gave Adrian the cold shoulder for not jumping in to punish me earlier. I could feel her stewing, her anger like a storm cloud hanging over the table. In the back of my mind, I knew she wasn’t gonna let this go. Katrina didn’t just drop things—she’d keep poking, scheming, waiting for her chance to get back at me. The thought sent a shiver through me, not because I was scared of her, but because I didn’t know what her next move would be. Her “vengeance” was always something twisted, and I wasn’t looking forward to finding out what she had planned.

Dinner ended, and I got to work cleaning up the dining room, stacking plates and wiping down the table. When that was done, I headed to the kitchen, making sure everything was in order before calling it a night. The packhouse was a modern mansion, built with all the fancy human stuff—running water, working showers, flush toilets, the works. But me? I wasn’t allowed to touch any of it. I had to fetch water in a bucket from the outdoor pump, hauling it up to my tiny attic room for a quick bath. No body scrub, no fancy soaps, just a splash of cold water to rinse off the day. I didn’t complain, though. I’d been doing it so long it was just part of the routine.

My clothes were another story. All I had were the five outfits and two pairs of shoes Luna Aurora gave me when I turned fifteen. They were worn thin now, frayed at the edges, but they were mine. The stuff I wore as a kid didn’t fit anymore, so those five shirts and pants were all I owned. After my bath, I slipped into something to sleep in—one of the softest shirts, faded but comfortable—and crawled into my narrow bed. The room was small, barely enough space for the bed and a rickety dresser, but it was my space, the only place I could breathe without someone watching me.

Before I let my eyes close, I whispered a quiet prayer to the Moon Goddess, same as I did every night. “Please,” I murmured, “grant me my wolf when I turn eighteen.” It was a hope I clung to, the one thing keeping me going. With that, I let the weight of the day pull me under, sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Two days later**

The last two days passed without much drama to talk about, it's been same routine wake up, stay on my toes all day running around to please my dearest pack members and their beloved alpha and Luna then go to sleep feeling like I had been attacked and beaten to stupor, yesterday was no difference and I went to bed feeling exhausted after whispering my everyday prayer to the moon goddess, if she's even listening.

Today’s my birthday. Eighteen. A big deal for any shifter, but here? Nobody’s gonna notice. No one’s gonna wish me happy birthday, and I’m not holding my breath for a cake or a party. That’s just not how things work in my life. I rolled out of bed, yawning, my muscles aching from yesterday’s work. I stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness, and started getting ready to head to the kitchen. Breakfast wasn’t gonna make itself, and the pack would be up soon, expecting their food.

But then, out of nowhere, a voice rang in my head, bright and clear. *Happy birthday, Ashley!* I jumped, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Who are you?” I said out loud, my voice shaky in the quiet room. The voice came again, warm and cheerful. *I’m your wolf!* Tears pricked my eyes, and I pressed a hand to my chest, hardly believing it. “Oh, Moon Goddess,” I whispered, my voice catching. “You actually remembered me.”

*She never forgets,* my wolf said, her tone soft but sure. I didn’t know what to say, my head spinning with joy and questions. *I used to be called Alexa,* she went on, *but you can name me something else if you want.* I shook my head, smiling through the tears. Alexa was perfect, but something about *Alexa* felt right, like it fit her voice in my head. I wanted to ask what she meant by “used to be called Alexa”—who named her? When? But the happiness bubbling inside me drowned out everything else. My wolf was here. I wasn’t alone anymore.

With Alexa in my head, I felt different—stronger, like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I could leave now. Really leave. Even if I went rogue, I wouldn’t be some helpless kid. My wolf would have my back, and that changed everything. I wiped my face, making sure no tears were left, and pulled myself together. I had to look normal, like it was any other day.

I headed to the kitchen, my steps a little lighter despite the work waiting for me. I tied my hair back, grabbed an apron, and started pulling out what I needed for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, bread for toast—same as always. But as I prepared breakfast, I couldn’t help the way my heart bubbled with a newfound happiness, so different from the tired sigh that usually slipped out of me every few minutes. For once, I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to snap at me. I felt whole, like a piece of me had finally clicked into place.