1. Flashback

Isabella POV

I slipped through the double doors of the packhouse’s main kitchen, trying to meld into the background. Steam billowed from copper pots, and the air smelled heavily of roasted espresso and burnt toast. The omegas were already in full swing, rushing around to meet the breakfast deadline. I was late, and I knew it.

"Look who finally graced us with her presence," a gravelly voice cut through the clamor.

Sloane stood with her arms crossed over her apron, eyes cold as frost. She didn't bother asking for an explanation. "Let me guess...you were busy sleeping while the rest of the pack actually works."

She wasn't wrong, but context mattered.

My stepsister, Beta Lyra, had kept me awake past three in the morning. She’d dragged me to her room during an impromptu late-night party just to make me scrub a stain out of her rug, purposefully dropping her diamond earring to make me search for it on my knees while her friends laughed in my face.

"Isabella!" Sloane’s voice barked, snapping me back to the heat of the kitchen. Half the prep staff paused, watching the trainwreck unfold.

"I’m sorry, I was—"

"I don't pay you to make excuses," Sloane sneered, cutting me off instantly. "Take this breakfast tray up to Beta Lyra's quarters. Now."

She shoved a heavy silver tray into my hands. The omega holding it previously exhaled a sigh of sheer relief as I took the burden off her hands. Turning, I headed up the stairs toward the high-ranking quarters.

Reaching Lyra’s door, I tapped quietly. A muffled, low chuckle came from inside, followed by a breathless gasp. Taking that as a cue, I turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The tray nearly slipped from my fingers.

Entangled on the bed was Lyra, her arms wrapped tightly around Blaine Cross, the future Alpha of our pack and the male who used to look at me like I meant everything.

A suffocating weight hit my chest. I turned around instantly, desperate to erase the image from my mind.

"What the fuck are you doing here, you lowlife?" Lyra’s high-pitched voice sliced through the room. "Get the heck out!"

I slammed the heavy door and ran down the corridor, not stopping until I burst out into the damp morning air of the garden, tears streaming down my face.

She planned it. I knew she did. Lyra had orchestrated every single second of that moment, ensuring I would walk in right when Blaine’s attention was fully on her. Ever since she entered my life, she had systematically dismantled everything I owned: my father’s affection, my place in this pack, and finally, Blaine. She wanted me to feel utterly powerless. And Blaine? He hadn't even looked up to defend me.

My mother’s death had started this domino effect. After she passed, my father the pack's Beta was pushed to take another mate.... Stella, Lyra’s mother.

Stella played the grieving, gentle stepmother until the bond was sealed. Then, the slow poisoning of my father’s mind began.

My eighteenth birthday was the day the trap finally sprung.

Flashback

The courtyard was illuminated by torches, heavy with anticipation. I wore a flowing lilac colored gown, my heart hammering against my ribs. Tonight was the shift the moment where I would finally meet my wolf. My father had thrown a joint transition party for Lyra and me.

When our names were called, I walked toward the podium with my shoulders back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lyra glaring at me in bitter jealousy. I ignored it. I believed tonight would finally bridge the growing rift between my father and me.

The Alpha stepped forward, reciting the ancient ritual words. Down in the crowd, Blaine stood near the front, giving me a soft, reassuring smile.

Then, midnight struck.

"Shift!" the Alpha commanded, his aura heavy in the air.

I closed my eyes, reaching deep inside myself to call forth my wolf.

Nothing.

No spark. No shift. Just empty silence.

Beside me, the brutal sound of cracking bones filled the air as Lyra’s transformation began. Whispers erupted across the crowd like dry leaves in the wind.

Concentrate, I pleaded with myself, pulling on every thread of magic in my blood. Nothing worked.

I had waited my entire life for this moment. I wanted to make my father proud, to be strong just like my mother had been. But as the silence stretched, the reality hit me. I was wolfless.

My knees gave out, and I hit the stone floor, sobbing open-mouthed as the humiliation burned straight to my chest.

Lyra stood there fully transformed, a brown wolf with a glossy coat, letting out a loud howl that rang with pure mockery.

I looked up at Blaine, searching for a sign any sign that he cared. His expression was cold, filled with shock and profound disappointment.

"You can't shift, Isabella," my father said, his voice carrying over the crowd. The disgust in his gaze felt worse than a blade.

"Isabella Brooks," the Alpha declared coldly. "You are hereby demoted to the rank of omega."

Stella stood beside my father, watching me with absolute revulsion. Blaine took a step back into the crowd, shaking his head. Alphas didn't mix with omegas.

I fled the courtyard and ran back to the packhouse, locking myself in my bedroom in the western wing to cry until my throat was raw.

By dawn, my door was violently thrown open. Stella and Lyra marched inside, ripping the blankets off my bed and throwing my clothes out into the hallway.

"You stay in the omegas' quarters where you belong now," Stella sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "You are a slave to this pack. You are just as weak and pathetic as your mother was."

"Didn't you hear her? Move your pathetic ass," Lyra chimed in, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of bed, shoving me toward the door.

Under the cold, judging stares of the western wing pack members, I gathered my scattered belongings off the floor, keeping my eyes glued to the marble tiles as I walked down to the dark underbelly of the packhouse.

End of Flashback