LOGINWarning: This is a dark romance. This story contains bullying, abuse, torture, physical violence, branding, manipulation, and other dark themes. For mature readers only (18+). They branded me worthless. My own father told them to hold my face while he wrote the word worthless on my forehead with hot iron. "Make sure she knows what she is before we give her away," he said, laughing ruthlessly. When I was four years old, he paid a pack witch to seal my wolf only because he learnt that I was the white Luna. The first one born in a hundred years. So they made me suffer four twenty years. Chained me to the dungeon beneath our house, and broke my body again and again until I couldn't scream anymore, then poured water over me so they could start again. My brothers did nothing. My stepmother folded her arms and smiled. My stepsister shredded my dress in front of the whole school and called it a lesson. When my father decided to hand me over to three Alpha heirs like a damaged property with a warning carved into my skin so they would never make the mistake of thinking I was more, they never knew that I was more powerful than what they could ever imagine. Just when I was about to give up, the bond snapped and the three alpha heirs fell on their knees at my feet and everything my father feared came back to haunt him. "Who dares touch what belongs to us?"
View More"Shit." My heart jumps when Nova rounds the corner.
She freezes. "You know… I was going to ignore you today."
Big lie. She never does.
"But you come along and dare curse at me. You've got some nerve." She grabs my hair and yanks it backwards.
Pain shoots through my scalp. I bite down on the sound before it escapes. 'Not my hair.' I wouldn't dare say that out loud.
Dax shows up immediately, drawn by the noise.
"It hurts so bad, huh?" Nova's sharp voice cuts through the quiet like a weapon.
I don't answer. I grit my teeth and stay silent.
Dax sends his palm into my face. The impact is hard enough to flip my face ninety degrees. My ears go numb, followed by a loud persistent ringing like an abandoned alarm clock.
I take a step back but Rex is right there, blocking my path and making sure I cannot escape.
"You know…" Nova continues, her voice sliding through the space between us. "I don't need to touch you to make you feel miserable." She heads toward the laundry stand.
'Oh no. Not the hot iron again.'
"But you have a duty." She walks menacingly toward me, iron in hand. Dax snorts. Rex smirks.
"You have a responsibility to bring us satisfaction." Nova brings the iron an inch closer to my face.
I turn my face away, every muscle in my body tightening.
"Scared much?" Dax chips in, grabbing me by the hand.
"Hold her." Nova commands and Rex grabs my other hand, locking me in place.
"She always pretends like she fears nothing. Like she isn't scared. But she is." Nova brings the iron down against my skin.
A low hiss escapes from the impact, followed by the acrid smell of burning skin. I clench my teeth so tight my jaw aches.
'Don't give them that satisfaction. Don't show pain.'
"Scream. Cry." Nova taunts.
I don't.
She groans in annoyance and rips the iron away, taking a layer of my skin with it. The pain is sharp and intense, stealing the air from my lungs. I bite down hard on my lip to keep the scream locked inside.
"You're boring these days." She looks at me like I am something scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
"And pathetic." Dax adds.
I maintain my silence. I've learned over the years that it ends quickly when I don't react. They lose interest fast.
She dumps the iron on the nearby table. "I'm done for now.” She announce “I'll be back. Till then, know your place."
The words linger in the air like a bad omen, but I refuse to let them touch me. She always comes back. That is nothing new.
She claps her hands and walks out, followed by Dax and Rex who release me like I'm not worth the effort of holding.
I exhale slowly and wince immediately as the burn reminds me it exists.
'Soon,' I tell myself. 'Soon all of this will be over.'
Soon, My father, Mara, Nova, Dax and Rex will no longer be able to touch me. Except Finn.
Recently, Finn has been… different. Distant. He is our eldest who used to look at me with hatred since the night he returned back and saw our mother dying from poison in my arms. They told him that i killed her, and he believed them. But now, he no longer joins their daily ritual anymore or hits me with the others. He just removes himself with an unreadable expression that makes me wonder. Why the sudden silence? Why now, after all these years?
I don't trust it. I've been burned by hope before. Literally.
"Ayla!" Mara's voice cuts through my thoughts from downstairs. "Where is breakfast?"
The burn on my arm is still raw and throbbing. I haven't even had the chance to dress the wound properly and now my stepmother is calling. I drag myself down the stairs.
My father and Mara are already seated in the living room, eyes on the morning news like the rest of the world makes sense to them. Like they didn't hear Nova kicking my ass upstairs. But they don't even care.
"So now you spend your mornings lazing about. Is that it?" he growls.
"No, I—"
"Shut up!" He flings a flower vase in my direction.
I duck but not fast enough. The base catches my head and shatters on impact. My vision shakes, dark patches bloom at the edges. Everything doubles for a moment.
"Are you still standing?" he barks.
I run to the kitchen.
"Ayla is getting so lazy," Mara chimes in behind me, her voice wrapped in false concern like she can't hear herself. I can clearly hear the satisfaction underneath every word.
"We must be feeding her so much that she can afford to be lazy," my father says. "Let's reduce her portions."
"Yes. You're right," Mara agrees instantly because the sound of that brings pleasure to her ears.
"Breakfast better be ready in five minutes," he shouts over the back of the sofa.
I move through the kitchen on autopilot, preparing coffee for each of them exactly how they take it. One wrong measurement and I am finished. I spread jam over his bread without thinking, moving my hands from memory and years of getting it exactly right to avoid the beating I get when I do it wrong.
Blood is still trickling down the side of my head. My arm throbs. But all I can think about is not making a mistake.
'He is my father,' I think, and this is not the first time. 'He is supposed to protect me.'
But he doesn't. He tells me that I killed my mother. That I came into this world and took her out of it, and that I deserve everything that follows.
I have carried that guilt my whole life — the weight of a death I don't even understand, a crime that I have no memory of committing.
I was only eight years old when she died, foam spilling from her lips while I held her in my arms. I still don't know how I was supposed to have done it.
I come out of the kitchen with the meals balanced carefully in my arms just as Nova sweeps in, fashionably dressed in a fancy pink dress, and perfect hair, like she didn't just hold me down twenty minutes ago.
She slides into her place between my father and Mara like she was made to sit there.
"How is the inter-pack summit preparation coming, Dad?" she asks, voice dipped in sweetness that costs her nothing.
"Important guests are coming," he says. "Preparations are a bit hectic."
Her eyes light up immediately. "Important guests? What important guests?"
My father chuckles. It's the first time I've seen him laugh all morning and it's only for her. I set the plates down quietly because no one ever notice me.
"It's a secret," he says in a low, conspiratorial voice.
Nova makes the sound of an impatient child. "Tell me, Daddy. Tell me."
He lets himself smile. "Okay. Fine."
His tone shifts into something serious and even I find myself holding still, listening. Glad that no one knows I exist in this room.
"Caius Voss, heir to the Voss Dynasty, is coming. His pack is one of the wealthiest in five territories, I'm sure you've heard of him. Zane Ardell of the Ardell Pack and Ryker Stone are coming as well. The three most powerful Alpha heirs in the territory."
Nova's mouth drops open. "Wait — Caius Voss? As in one of the most eligible Alphas in the territory? And Zane Ardell, the prince charming?"
"Yes. We need powerful allies, Nova. And that is where you come in."
Tears are literally forming in her eyes now, the overwhelmed kind of tears that fall only when she wants something. "Me? What do I do?" she asks with enthusiasm.
"You must seduce Caius. If we get you positioned as his Luna, it's an instant elevation. Not just for our family, but for our legacy and our pack."
Nova smiles like she's already won. "I can do that. It's easy."
A sound escapes my lips before I can catch it. A low sound. Something between a breath and a growl.
Big mistake.
My father turns and looks at me for the first time like he's only just noticed I'm in the room. His eyes move from my face to the blood still drying on the side of my head. His expression doesn't soften.
"What are you still doing here?"
"I — I wait until everyone finishes eating."
"Not anymore. Crawl out of my sight." He waves a hand like I'm something to be cleared away. "And clean that blood off your head before you're seen. You look like an eyesore."
I fall on my knees and crawl out. In the hallway, Finn is standing at the bottom of the stairs. He says nothing. He doesn't move or look away either. His eyes hold mine for one full second — unreadable and searching. Something works behind them that I have no name for.
Then I walk past him and he lets me go.
---
I dress the wound in the bathroom mirror. My reflection looks back at me — pale, hollow-eyed, holding herself together from the inside out.
I think about what my father said. The three Alpha heirs. The most powerful wolves in five territories, coming here, to this house. Maybe it's my salvation, or maybe it’s my curse. I have no idea. But one thing that I know is that it will all end soon.
I pick my old bag on the floor by the door and sling it over my good shoulder. It's the one that I've had since I was small. My fingers run along the strap the way they always do without thinking and pause at something in the lining. A slight thickness where the fabric should lie flat. I've always assumed it was a loose seam.
I press it once, gently, then let go.
'One more day,' I tell myself. 'Just survive one more day.'
But for the first time in a long time, the words feel like something other than just survival.
It feels like the beginning of the end.
POV: AylaThree months after the ceremony, the compound has learned how to sound like a home.The elevated rotations are gone. The new locks remain, but they open for ordinary reasons now—shift changes, deliveries, the quiet traffic of a territory that is no longer waiting for the next demonstration. Ryker is off the restricted list and back on the outer loops, though the medic still gives him a look when he takes the longer route. Caius runs the consolidated administration with the same precision he once applied to keeping attachment off the balance sheet. Zane has turned the regional intercept desk into something that almost looks like a permanent institution, and only occasionally mutters about the paperwork.I am Luna in the open. The title no longer feels like a garment I put on for formal hours. It sits the way the bond sits—present, worked-for, no longer under negotiation.In the mornings I train in the clearing with the edge of the current held clean. The Mage comes less often
POV: AylaThe week after the ceremony is quieter than any week since the seal broke.Not empty. Quieter. The regional desks still send updates. The recovery track for the open files continues. Ryker’s restricted duty list shortens by inches. The compound learns how to occupy ordinary hours without treating them as a lull between alarms. In the middle of that quieter stretch, the remaining names from the beginning of the path receive their endings.Finn comes to the east sitting room in the late morning with a formal notice from the transitional council still overseeing the old Dravenmoor holdings. He stands until I tell him to sit, the old habit of not assuming welcome still present in his posture even after the months of proved loyalty.“They have offered me a permanent administrative seat in the transition authority,” he says. “Not rank. Not a claim on the old house. A working role in the inventory and the redistribution under regional oversight. I told them I would not accept it un
POV: Ayla / Caius / Ryker / ZaneThe public record is sealed. The hall is empty. The banners have been taken down for the night.We end up in the east sitting room again, the one without maps, because none of us are ready to pretend the formal ceremony finished the private part of the work. The bond is quiet and full. Ryker sits with the care his side still requires. Caius has set aside the last of the formal transfer sheets. Zane has turned off every device that could pull him back into a regional desk. I close the door and lean against it for a moment before I join them.“The hall heard the claim,” I say. “I need the room to hear the rest.”No one pretends they do not understand.Caius is the first to speak. He does not use the language of the ceremony. He uses the language he has been circling since the night he said attachment was no longer a variable he was willing to manage.“In the field and in the formal record I can give you structure,” he says. “I can give you continuity and
POV: AylaThe hall is full in a way the rehearsal never was.Banners from three territories hang along the stone. Northern representatives sit where old rivalry used to place them on the opposite side of the floor. Coastal and eastern valley leads occupy the same section without the careful distance of the first joint meetings. The compound’s own people fill the remaining seats. No one is here for a private acknowledgment. This is the public record.I walk the center aisle with Caius on my right, Ryker on my left, and Zane half a step behind. The bond is steady and bright. Ryker’s wound is still healing under the formal coat; he refused a quieter seating arrangement and the medic stopped arguing once it was clear the argument would not win. The residual readiness of the current sits quiet under my skin. It does not rise. It does not need to. This room is not a field.The council chair from the regional authorization stands at the front as formal witness. The ceremony does not belong t
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