Chapter 5

Zahra's POV

Blood moon, Present day. 

I head back to the training compound and downstairs for a shower. I’ve got an hour before school starts. It’s a long walk and I like getting in early to avoid the crush in the halls.

I wash my hair fast, towel dry it, then plait it into a long braid down my back. The changing rooms are always quiet this early. Almost everyone else goes home to shower and change, but my dad will be around at this time, and I’d rather not risk running into him. Not if I can help it.

I pull on my outfit. A faded black t-shirt that used to be my brother’s, still far too big on me, but oversized is “cool,” right. The jeans are old too, also Zach’s once. I roll the legs up six times and cinch them tight with a belt so they don’t slide off my hips. I grab my old converse- they are beginning to fall apart; I’ll need to try and find some tape to hold the soles on again soon

I shoulder my bag and set off. It’s about a fifty-minute walk if I move quickly, which gives me time to eat my granola bar and apple and let my head settle.

School is on the other side of town, closer to our western border with Silver Dawn. Blood Moon is big enough to have an elementary, middle, and high school. Silver Dawn and Crescent Moon don’t, so some of their teenagers attend ours. We can choose human schools too, but the nearest is over an hour away. Most of us stay here.

I like the walk. It takes me through the centre of town, past the mall, then up through a residential area where the wealthier pack members live. The houses aren’t as close to the packhouse as the ranked street, but they’re still big, polished, and smug. Many of them have pools.

The street is lined with leafy trees. Everything is quiet, picture-perfect. Neat gardens. Fresh paint. Soft lighting behind expensive curtains. It looks like a movie set; the kind where bad things only happen to other people.

Once upon a time, I used to dream about having a mate who loved me, living in a house like one of these, maybe even with a couple of pups.

Life had other plans.

I grew up fast. Those Cinderella fantasies died early, the same way everything else in my life does. I don’t need a man for anything. I’m building a life where I’m in control. The mate bond might be sacred to everyone else, but to me, it sounds a lot like a leash, and I refuse to hand my autonomy over to anyone.

That doesn’t mean I’m closed off to love. I like the idea of choosing who I’m with. Someone who stands beside me as an equal. Not in front. Not behind. Maybe one day, after I’ve made it. After I’ve reached my goals, retired, or stepped into a training role, I can consider a chosen mate. Love on my terms is the only kind I can live with.

Deep down, I’d love a boyfriend. Someone other than Sienna and Abby. Someone who actually wants me, not what I can do for them. But I don’t let myself sit in that longing for long. I don’t have time for distractions. I can’t afford to get attached when my entire plan is built around leaving as soon as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the school gates, traffic is already picking up. I jog through the parking lot, head down, hoping not to draw attention, and slip inside toward my locker.

I start emptying my bag and sorting books for the morning lessons. The hallway fills fast. I want to get to homeroom before the corridors turn into a stampede. Lingering in the halls is a good way to end up in someone’s way.

I close my locker and nearly jump out of my skin.

Sienna is right there beside me, grinning from ear to ear and holding up a cupcake with a single lit candle.

“What the hell?” I blurt, stepping back from her slightly manic expression.

“Happy birthday,” she says, loud enough that half the corridor looks over.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely blank.

Sienna blinks like I’ve insulted her ancestors. “Oh my god, Zahra. Today’s April 16th. It’s your birthday.”

“Oh. Right.” I manage a smile. Birthdays aren’t exactly a thing at my house. Sienna and Abby are the only ones who ever acknowledge it.

She starts singing, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” and I clamp my hand over her mouth.

“Thank you,” I say dryly, “but I don’t think that’s necessary.”

She arches one perfectly waxed brow, then licks my palm.

“Ew,” I snap, snatching my hand back. “Bitch. Gross.”

She giggles and shoves the cupcake into my hands.

I glance down the corridor and my stomach drops.

Zach is walking past with his friends.

Zach glances at me briefly before looking away, making it painfully clear that he’d rather I had died instead of Mom. Fourteen years and they still can’t bring themselves to celebrate my birthday. Birthdays… What a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating the day you were born when your family acts like you don’t exist?

Sienna’s chatter pulls me forward as we head toward homeroom. I’m half listening, half trying to shake off that hollow ache, when it happens;

One minute, I’m carrying my cupcake and my books. The next, everything is on the floor.

The cupcake hits first, smearing frosting across the tiles. My books follow, scattering like confetti in the worst possible way. I stare at the mess for a beat too long, then a heel steps down beside my science book, sharp and deliberate.

I look up.

Sabrina.

She’s smirking down at me with the confidence of someone who’s never been hit hard enough in her life. Rosa and Kelly flank her, balanced on stilettos like baby deer that learned cruelty before coordination.

“Aw, look at that,” Sabrina drawls, fake sympathy dripping from every syllable. “A pathetic little cake for a pathetic little girl. No party for you, huh. Guess you’re not popular enough.”

I blink slowly. “Wow, Sabrina. You figured it out. I’m not popular. Did you need a crystal ball for that, or did the cosmos send you a memo.”

Kelly snickers. “And to think, your family hates you because your mom died giving birth to you. What a tragic little orphan you are.”

Something hot twists in my chest. I keep my smile anyway.

“You know, Kelly, I could almost mistake your compassion for real emotion if you weren’t a soulless plastic doll.”

Sabrina steps closer, perfume hitting me like a chemical weapon. “Watch it, Zahra. Just because you’re good at playing tough doesn’t mean you are.”

I pick up my maths textbook. Frosting slicks the cover. “And just because you wear ten pounds of makeup doesn’t mean you have a personality. I guess we’re both struggling with our identities.”

Rosa and Kelly gape, momentarily lost. Sabrina narrows her eyes.

“One day,” she says, voice low and venomous, “you’ll realise you’re alone because no one can stand you. Not your peers. Not your family.”

I straighten up, brushing crumbs off my shirt. “At least I’m self-aware enough to know where I stand. That’s more than I can say for you three. Enjoy your shallow lives, ladies.”

I turn and walk away, leaving the mess behind. I can already feel the stares, the whispering. It’s my birthday. I refuse to spend it kneeling on a dirty floor while Sabrina plays queen.