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Rose’s POV
Mud sucked at my boots, cold and thick, like the valley wanted to swallow me whole. The air smelled of pine and wolf musk, sharp enough to sting my nose, but it was the stares that got me—hard and hateful, like I was a stain on the pack’s perfect world. As the Beta’s daughter, I should have all the respect, regards and love, but how would I expect that when my birth caused pain and regret instead of the joy other pups bring? I kept my red hair shoved under a frayed hood, but it didn’t matter. They always saw me. Rose, the cursed girl, the one who broke everything just by being born. I was eighteen, and I’d been running from their whispers and hateful glares my whole life. “Freak,” a woman hissed as I passed her cabin, her voice low, like she was spitting out poison. She yanked her kid close, his little eyes wide, like I’d curse him just by breathing. Everyone hates me for what my birth caused, as if it was my fault. How was I blamed for something that I had no power over? My hands curled into fists in my pockets, nails biting my palms. The whole pack knew the story of my birth. How it paralyzed Mom from her waist down after an agonizing struggle to birth me, which almost took her life. They say my twin brother also came out stillborn because of me, and that I had also brought bad luck to my father ever since that day. The stories lingered on every lip as I grew up to realize my miserable life. My red hair, my dark eyes? It was more like proof I was a curse the moon goddess made to punish us. This pack, this valley with its dark forests and smoky cabins, was supposed to be a home for werewolves, a pack bound by blood and strength. But definitely not for me. It was a cage, and I was in it, yet they wanted to kick me out into the wilds to get devoured by predators. The pack loved and protected their wolves and made sure life was peaceful and safe for them all, except me though. They see me as a defect. My older sisters, Lila and Mara, were their darlings. Perfect, blonde, blue-eyed wolves that glowed like sunlight. They are twenty and twenty-one, respectively, and now had their mates, who looked at them like they were goddesses. Me? I had no wolf, no place, no mate, just scars and a name that tasted like ash on everyone’s lips. I got to the training grounds, where the air buzzed with shouts and the thwack of bodies hitting dirt. I hung back, breath puffing white in the chill as I watched Lila slam some guy to the ground. Her laugh was sharp and bright, cutting through the noise. Mara leaned against a post, giggling with her mate, Bale, his grin all wide and affectionate. The crowd cheered Lila, their voices filled with amazement. I stood there, cold seeping through my thin jacket, my chest tight like someone was squeezing it. Just then Lila's eyes caught me. “Rose!” Her voice sliced through, mean as a whip. My heart kicked hard, and I froze. I hated that she already saw me and wished I didn’t stop by here. I should have headed straight to class. She jogged over, blonde hair bouncing, eyes glinting like she was hunting. Mara followed immediately, smirking, then a group of teens trailing them, sniffing for trouble. “What’re you doing, freak? Thinking you’ll sprout a wolf by staring long enough?” Lila jeered. They laughed, and it burned, their voices like sparks on my skin. I yanked my hood lower, but Lila ripped it back, my red hair spilling out like blood. “Look at her,” she said, circling me, boots crunching. “No wolf, no mate, just a walking curse.” “Leave me alone,” I said, voice low, but it wobbled, betraying me. My hands shook, wanting to shove her, to defend myself at least verbally, but I couldn’t do anything. Mara stepped close, her perfume sweet, but it sickened me like rotting flowers. “You don’t belong, Rose,” she said, smile sharp as glass. “Why don’t you just die? Make it easier on everyone.” She flicked a pebble, and it stung my cheek, hot and quick. The crowd snickered, enjoying every moment and greedy for more. I swallowed hard, throat tight with my pulse hammering. I wanted to hit back as my cheek stung unbearably. I want to make them feel a bit of my pain too, but fighting meant worse. It always did. As I turned to go, Lila grabbed my arm, nails biting like claws. “Hold up,” she hissed. “We’re not done.” Then Mara dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over me. It hit like a punch, stealing my breath, soaking my clothes, and dripping down my face. It smelled of rust and dirt, chilling my bones. Laughter exploded, loud and jeering, as they hurled mockery at me. Lila shoved me, and I hit the ground, mud cold and gritty under my knees. “Stay there, freak,” she said, voice smug. “That’s your place.” I stayed down, head low, water dripping, their laughter fading as they walked off. The cold sank deep, but the ache in my chest was worse. Their hate, their words, carving the hollow of sadness in my heart. I’d taken this since I was little, since I knew what “cursed” meant. Each time, it stole a piece of me, and I just couldn’t get used to how painful it felt. I dragged myself up, mud sticking under my nails, the grit rough against my skin. The school bell rang; class was about to start, so I had to go quickly, as skipping would mean hell at home since the teachers would always report my absence. The classroom smelled like chalk dust and sweat as I stepped in after cleaning up the dirt on my cloth and body as much as I could. I slid into a back seat, my wet clothes sticking to the chair, my wet hair dripping some on the desk. Mrs Kate, the teacher, stood up front, grey hair pulled tight as she taught about the moon goddess, mates, and the wolf’s strength. I faced down, fingers tracing scars on my wrist from Mom’s whip, hidden under my sleeve. Her lectures weren’t for someone like me. The moon goddess didn’t care about a girl like me and every time, I wonder if I was meant to be a mere human and mistakenly entered my werewolf mother’s womb. “Rose!” Kate’s voice cracked, making me jump. Every head turned, smirking, waiting for what I don’t know. “Answer the question.” she seethed and I was stunned. My face burned, heart pounding. “Didn’t hear it,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible, drowned by their titters. “Of course,” she sneered, lips thin. “Too busy sulking over the inner wolf you’ll never get? Now answer me this…What are mates role in the pack?” It was more like a mockery than a question. Laughter hit like a wave, hot and sharp, and even though I knew the answer, my throat locked up. “A mate… makes the pack stronger,” I forced out, voice shaking. “They protect each other… keep the bloodline going.” “You can’t understand the real concept in experience, can you?,” Kate said, eyes cold. “If you weren’t such a disgrace, maybe you would have gotten a mate for yourself.” The class roared, and I sank lower, hands trembling under the desk. I wished she was wrong, but yes…I was wolfless, mateless, weak and useless. The day dragged, all taunts and cold shoulders. By the time I reached our pack house, the sun was low, sky red like blood. Our place was big, a mark of Mom and Dad’s Betas status. I stopped at the door, stomach twisting, the air heavy with what waited inside. The door creaked, and the dreadful smell of my father hit me: lavender oil and whiskey, thick and sour. Mom was by the hearth in her wheelchair, blonde hair dull, blue eyes hard as stone. She didn’t look up. “Late, Rose,” she said, voice cutting. “Always dragging your mess in here.” I stared at the floor, boots scuffing the wood. Dad was at the table, bottle in hand, his big frame slouched but dangerous. “What’s the excuse?” he growled, whiskey on his breath. “Were you strolling around, spreading the shame more?” “No. I was in school reading.” I said, keeping my voice flat, though my heart was racing. Do they expect me to rush back home happily like a child who misses his parents? I would love to spend the whole day in the school library if allowed. The air felt like it could choke me as I stood in front of their cold gazes. “School,” Mom spat, wheeling closer, chair creaking like a warning. “Why bother putting you in school? You’re a burden. Took my legs, my son, my life. For what? A wolfless freak who only does nothing but disgrace us!” Her words were a lash, splitting old scars. I wanted to yell that I didn’t ask to be born. But silence was safer. With a slow pace, I edged toward the kitchen, hands shaking as I grabbed a jug of water. My reflection in the glass was a ghost, pale, hollow, and my eyes too dark and empty. “Useless,” Dad muttered from the sitting room, standing, his chair scraping. His steps were heavy, closing in on me. “You think you can skulk around, eating our food?” He shook his head. “You’re really a mistake, Rose. The moon goddess cursed us with you and I don’t know what sin I committed.” I turned, meeting his bloodshot eyes for a second. They burned, promising pain, the kind that left marks. “I’m trying to be a strong daughter. A pride to you…and everyone,” I said, voice cracking. “I don’t wanna be this.” “Trying?” He laughed, a rough, ugly sound. “You’re nothing. Every day of your life! Listen, I came to tell you something…” he leaned in and said. “Tomorrow, you start earning your keep. One of my friends has uses for you and he paid a good amount.” His words hit like a fist, clear and sickening. I’d heard of men who paid for girls no one cared about to use as sex toys for a night or two. I hope that wasn’t what he meant.Lucas’s POVOnly when I was sure the sisters were out of earshot did I finally turn to Jake and Clara. Both waited without speaking, the former because silence was part of his nature, the latter because her fury was still finding words sharp enough to carry it.“She hugged them,” Clara said at last, voice taut. “Right there in front of everyone. I could smell it—their fear, yes, but there was something else. Something that didn’t belong.”Jake folded his arms. “Confidence.”She shot him a look. “You saw it too.”He nodded. “They’ve practiced. The tremors, the tears. I’ve seen rogues lie for bread before—but never that cleanly.”I exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The hall still smelled of dust and rain from their arrival, and beneath it, the faint sweetness of honey that Rose had insisted the kitchens prepare. My mate’s mercy would one day save us all—or damn us if I wasn’t careful.“She believes them,” I said quietly.Jake’s jaw ticked. “She wants to. That’s different.”
Mara’s POVThe cart jolted over another stone, and Lila’s hand tightened around mine. Her skin was cold, even under the blanket we’d wrapped ourselves in for the act. The wind smelled of pine and hearth smoke — the scent of home. My stomach twisted at the thought. Home. The word itself had turned poisonous.When the walls of Lucas’s fortress rose ahead, tall and clean against the morning light, I almost smiled. Almost. Every brick, every flag was proof that the story had worked.That she’d taken the bait.Rose.Our dear, cursed sister.“She’s waiting,” Lila murmured, voice soft but unsteady. “She’ll be standing there.”I didn’t need to look at her to know she was trembling, not from fear — but excitement. “Good,” I whispered back. “Let her believe every word of our letter.”The guards at the gate stepped aside as our cart slowed. The tall one—Jake, the Gamma—rode beside us. His face was carved from suspicion, jaw locked tight, eyes sweeping every movement we made. He’d barely said a w
Mara’s POV The cottage looked like grief. That much, at least, was true.The thatch slumped in two places where the winter had weighed too hard and too long. The hearth smoked because we had narrowed the flue with a stone months ago to make the air sting the eyes. We had learned where to pile ash so it would look as though the fire had been starved, not managed. We had learned that one bowl left with a crust of porridge told a cleaner lie than three scrubbed and stacked. We wore dresses we had torn at the hem with careful hands and left the threads so they would catch on the stool and worry themselves worse.When the wind shifted, we winced at the smell like honest women who had gotten used to clean water and must now drink from the ditch.As evening softened the edges of the room, Lila stood in the middle of the floor and let her hair fall loose. She bent her head as if in prayer and looked up at me through it, a pale curtain.“Do I look empty?” she asked.“You look tired,” I said.
Lucas’s POVBy the time I reached the war room, the letter had warmed in my palm as if it were a living thing. I laid it flat on the table, weighed the corners with two small stones, and read it again with a soldier’s eye—marks, cadence, the places where truth and performance often braid until they are difficult to separate.The script was from Mara on behalf of herself and her sister who Rose had told me maltreated her. Did they really repented?Jake entered without knocking. He’d earned the right by bleeding in my shadow long enough to know where I stood even in the dark. He took one look at the letter and one look at my face, and his shoulders came up like a wolf seeing weather turn.“What is it?” he asked.“Her sisters,” I said. “They sent this.”He read quietly, jaw working once, twice, then stilling. “It’s good,” he said. “A little too good.”“My thought,” I said.“Does she want to see them?”“She wants a chance to try,” I said. Saying it aloud settled something in me. I had l
Rose’s POVIt was another morning. I woke up to peace that I was already getting used to. It was late in the morning and Lucas had already left the bed to attend to his Alpha duty.With my pregnancy, I got to sleep as much as I wanted. Just then a knock sounded on the door.“Come in,” I called.A young messenger slipped inside, cheeks wind-reddened, hair stuck damp against his brow. He bowed so quickly he nearly toppled forward, then straightened and offered me a small parcel wrapped in oilcloth, tied with twine so tightly the knot had cut a groove into the bundle.“It came with the northern courier, Your Highness,” he said. “it bore the crest of…” His eyes flicked to the seal as if he wasn’t sure he should say it out loud. “Of your old pack.”For a heartbeat, the room tilted. There are names you think you have buried, and then a scrap of wax carries them back like a tide.“Thank you,” I managed to say while collecting it. He bowed and left. I sat very still with the parcel in my lap
Ben’s POVThree months of quiet had a way of sneaking under your skin and building a house there. Mine looked like this: a garden path dusted with cinder-ash from the lanterns, a woman with river-glass in her hair waiting at the far arch, and a whole fortress that no longer flinched when I laughed too loud.I had lived with noise so long—shouting overseers, the grind of carts, the kind of hunger that rattled your bones—that I didn’t know what to do with softness. And then Lyra stayed.If someone had told me the Alpha’s daughter would choose to live here, sleep under these roof for me, wake to this courtyard, I would have bet a month of rations against it and lost happily. Yet there she was, waving to the baker as she stole an extra roll for me, learning the names of the women who mended the banners, asking the older rogues how they liked their tea. She had a way of making you feel like a story you should tell fully and without shame. My pride grew back like hair after a bad cut.I fo







