Chapter 01

Olivia’s POV

I keep my eyes on the cracks in the concrete, trying to shut out the mice digging through the walls and the steady leak from the ceiling that’s been running since I got here. My blanket is thin and stiff, but I shift anyway, testing how far I can stretch with the ankle chain biting into my skin like a reminder I’m still here. Blood from last night still trickles from my nose in slow, warm drops; at least the swelling has gone down enough that both eyes will open now.

Rasp, rasp, tick, tick.

The sounds never quit. I slide onto my side, pulling the blanket higher over my legs even though it leaves me exposed to the cold floor. Sam, I miss you so bad it hurts to breathe. Every single night I reach for you in my dreamsyour green eyes laughing, Mom’s short bob bouncing when she hugged me like the world could never touch us. We used to run under the moonlight with the pack, all of us shifting and howling until the stars felt close enough to touch.

I wince. My wolf has been curled up inside me for years now, sleeping through the worst of it. I haven’t felt her properly in ages, and the last time I did… it was a lifetime ago.

My memories of them are fuzzy at the edges now. Mom’s laugh could light up a room, her arms wrapping around me so tight I thought she’d never let go. She always called me her little wolf and said I was her whole world. Dad used to read us stories right before bed, then kiss our foreheads and tuck us in. When I woke up screaming from nightmares, he’d let me crawl into Sam’s bed until morning. Those were the nights that mattered.

Rasp, rasp, tick, tick…

Damn it. I slam my palm against the floor. If I just keep quiet maybe the noise will stop. No. If he hears me coming down here I don’t want to know what kind of mood he’ll be in.

The crash took everything. Mom and Sam had picked me up after dance classI begged her for weeks until she finally said yes. Other wolves from the pack were going too, and I wanted it so bad. Dad said no, but she did it anyway. On the way home headlights hit us from behind. The car spun, slammed into a tree. The roof caved in, pinning Mom against the seat, and Sam went through the window. He never wore his seatbelt, even though she told him every single time.

The funeral was quick. Mom in a closed casket. Sam… they said he rolled into the river, but they never found him. They searched for months.

Rasp, rasp, tick, tick.

The next thing I remember is a cop yanking me out and Dad rushing over, checking me for cuts and bruises like I was made of glass. We stayed okay for a year until the drinking started. He’d start yelling, blaming me for every bad thing in his life, fists flying when the words weren’t enough.

By eleven I learned to hide. Leave plates of food out, lock myself in my room. One night he showed up at my door while I was curled up. He stood there in the dark, looming, staring down at me. “You look just like your mama.” Then the covers off, his hand sliding up my leg, stopping at my hips. His finger slipped under my underwear and just… rested there.

Rasp, rasp, tick, tick, scratch.

Olivia, stop. I snort through my teeth. I keep the worst of it locked away like a spank bank nobody wants to look at. The second time he waited until I was walking back to my room. I thought he was asleep. He grabbed my hair from behind, yanked hard enough I cried out. “On your knees, Olivia.” He shoved me down, unbuttoned his pants, and told me exactly what to do.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured Mom’s smile instead. I still remember the feel of my wolf retreating, curling smaller and smaller until she couldn’t reach me anymore. I couldn’t blame her. I would have done the same if I had a choice.

Olivia, wake up!

His shout rattles the ceiling. I blink up at the gray morning light coming through the window. I must have passed out again. I look down at the same stained shirt I’ve worn for daysblood dried stiff on the collar and sleeves. The door upstairs creaks open. His boots hit the stairs and I curl into myself, arms wrapped tight around my knees, trying to make myself smaller. The chain doesn’t let me get far.

When he’s standing over me I tilt my head up. He glances down, then back up at the ceiling like he forgot. His hand snaps out and slaps the side of my head hard enough to sting. “Here. Unlock the shackle. Ten minutes to get dressed and make breakfast.”