Chapter 6 – A Kindness Mocked

The packhouse was never silent.

Even at night, footsteps echoed in the stone corridors, warriors patrolled the outer walls, and the distant howls of wolves split the air like thunder. Bella had learned quickly that she would never know peace within these walls—not the kind of peace her little cottage once gave, with its soft creak of wood and the faint scent of sawdust lingering in the rafters.

Here, everything smelled of wolves. Musk, smoke, iron. It pressed into her lungs with every breath, reminding her that she didn’t belong.

And yet, as she walked carefully through one of the narrower halls that afternoon, she found silence of a different kind.

The training yard stretched beyond a low arch, the smell of sweat and blood sharp on the air. Wolves sparred there daily, their growls and shouts echoing through the stone like a hymn of violence. Today, though, it wasn’t the warriors who caught Bella’s attention.

It was the omegas.

They sat in the shadows at the edge of the yard, small and weary figures, their heads bowed. Omegas were the lowest-ranked wolves, often overlooked, sometimes abused. Their injuries were ignored; their pain treated as weakness. No one spared them more than a passing glance.

Bella froze when her eyes caught on a girl about her own age, cradling a badly bruised arm. Her dark hair was matted, her lip split. No one helped her. The others only shrugged, muttered, and turned away.

Something in Bella’s chest ached.

She crossed the yard before she could think better of it, kneeling in the dust beside the girl. “Let me see.”

The omega’s eyes lifted, wary, gold irises flashing faintly. “I—I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Bella’s voice was gentle, but firm. She reached carefully, and when the girl hesitated, Bella added, “Please. Just let me help.”

Slowly, the girl extended her arm. The skin was swollen, a deep purple blooming beneath it. Bella’s heart clenched. She tore a strip of linen from the hem of her gown, ignoring the gasps around her, and wrapped it tightly around the girl’s arm, steadying the joint as her father had once taught her.

“There,” Bella murmured, tying the knot carefully. “It’s not much, but it’ll hold until it heals.”

The omega stared at her as though she’d never seen such a thing before. “Why… why would you—”

Before she could finish, laughter rang out.

“Look at her,” a wolf sneered from across the yard. “The human Luna playing nurse.”

“Pathetic,” another scoffed. “She thinks her pity will make her one of us.”

Laughter spread, harsh and grating, cutting at Bella’s pride like knives. Her cheeks flushed hot, but she didn’t move. Her hands stayed steady on the omega’s arm, her gray-green eyes lifting, calm but fierce.

“I don’t care what you think,” Bella said softly, her voice carrying enough to hush the jeers for a moment. “Pain deserves kindness. That’s all.”

The omega’s lips parted in shock, her golden eyes shimmering. For the first time, someone had looked at her and seen more than her rank.

But the wolves only laughed harder. “Kindness,” one mocked. “Spoken like a fragile human.”

Bella rose slowly, her chest aching but her chin unbowed. “Spoken like someone who still remembers what it means to be human,” she whispered, more to herself than them.

And then she felt it.

The weight of silver eyes.

She turned her head and saw Lucian standing at the far end of the yard. He must have arrived silently, his tall frame shadowing the archway, his scar sharp under the pale afternoon light. His gaze was fixed on her, unreadable. For a heartbeat, hope stirred in Bella’s chest.

Would he see her kindness as strength? Would he acknowledge her at last, if only with a nod?

But Lucian’s jaw tightened, and in the next moment, he turned away.

He left without a word.

The laughter rose again, filling the yard, pressing into her skull until she thought she might scream. But Bella forced her fists to unclench, forced her breathing to steady. She met the omega’s eyes once more and offered a faint smile.

“Keep it wrapped,” she murmured. “It will heal stronger that way.”

The girl whispered, “Thank you.”

Bella turned and walked back through the archway, her skirts brushing the dusty ground. Her hands trembled, her heart ached, but she refused to let the tears fall where wolves could see.

That night, she sat alone in her chamber. The stone walls closed around her, the narrow bed cold beneath her thin blanket. The silence here was crueler than the laughter—it pressed into her chest, heavy and suffocating.

Her reflection in the small window stared back at her: pale face, gray-green eyes too wide, chestnut hair tumbling loose. She looked like a girl in over her head. A human swallowed whole by a wolf’s world.

Her throat burned, her eyes stung, but she whispered to herself, fierce and steady:

“I will not be broken.”