3. Forgive me, Rita

Four years later

Rita

“You.”

His voice roared in my head, so terrifying that I had to jump out of bed to the blurring sound of the alarm by my bedside. It was the same nightmare that had taunted me these past four years, The same one that had shattered my life and dragged me into a cruelty I had never imagined for myself.

I quickly ran out of bed when I reached for the clock. “Nooo,” I shouted, hurrying to take my bath.

There was no way I was resuming late today. There was no way I would let myself experience any harsh treatment from Anna, the chief maid, for lateness. I took the quickest shower ever and hurried out of the servant’s quarters to the open space just by the courtyard. That was my designated duty this morning.

I looked around. No one was looking my way; everyone was busy with their activities, which was a good sign. Relief barely settled before her voice cut through the air.

“Why are you still stuck there all morning?”

I flinched. The broom slipped from my grasp and hit the ground. Anna’s sharp, humorless voice sent unease settling in my spine.

“I often wonder,” she continued coldly, “what use you are in this miserable life of yours, aside from being a spy for our rival pack, a curse, and certainly…” Her lips curled. “…a murderer.”

That last one dug deeper hollows into my chest, burning far more intensely than ever.

She scoffed and turned toward the kitchen path. “Get those lazy legs of yours moving in five minutes. Guests have arrived, and this packhouse is far too busy to tolerate a pathetic maid dying over a tiny portion of work.”

She hissed and disappeared around the corner. My knees trembled as my heart lurched painfully against my ribs.

But no more than a few seconds passed before I jumped, almost hitting the ground if I hadn’t held onto a nearby pole.

I gasped, breaking out of the daze as I examined my soaked body from head to toe. I wiped my drenched face with the back of my arms and looked up at the first floor of the packhouse where the water had poured from, only to meet the eyes of Isabella, one of the omegas who had chosen to treat me more cruelly and make life a living hell for me.

“Should I say sorry?” she drawled.

Wasn’t that what she was supposed to do?

She rolled her eyes with a hiss. “I never knew you were still over some simple chores when everyone is busy with duties far more tedious.” She turned and left just like that, without even an apology for what she had done.

No remorse whatsoever.

My nose twitched as a foul, unmistakable scent flooded my senses. My stomach dropped as I sniffed the area. Who could have pissed on this open space and didn’t…

A frown creased my face when I sniffed the stench from my fabric and my body. I sniffed my clothes again. The realization hit like a brutal blow, far worse than the injuries I had already endured.

This wasn’t water.

Did Isabella just pour me overnight pee?

Something inside me cracked.

My legs carried me on their own out of the open space rage slamming into every fiber of my being. By the time I reached the first floor, ignoring the mocking, satisfied stares of the packhouse omegas, I made my way toward the kitchen where I could pick her faint scent.

When I entered, I froze at the door. The sight and presence snapped at my rage. Then I realized, Becky and her clique of nuisances had this all planned.

“So you decided to…” Becky’s nose twitched mockingly, eyes rolling disgustingly with one arm covering her nose. “I never knew you could smell this rotten, and not that it’s new anyway,” she hissed with a half smile, and her clique of girls burst out laughing.

Isabella, Rayna, and Lily. All three were laughing at me. Laughing at the stench they had caused and created. My chest tightened, my arms curling into fists, and they noticed.

“So you poured overnight pee on me on purpose just to make me the laughing stock?”

“Point of correction,” Becky said calmly. “We wouldn’t waste our time on a thing that’s already a laughing stock.” the laughter erupted again, this time louder.

My anger flared.

“That was only a reminder, a lesson, ” she continued, stepping closer, eyes blazing with challenge, “that you are nothing but a cursed murderer, undeserving of breath, let alone space in this packhouse.”

Her friends closed in beside her, forming a wall like Predators with clawns ready to devour. They dared me to react, to do my worst, to hit her in the face.

I knew what that was. That look on their faces. I knew I wouldn’t stand out long enough, nor outmatch them even if I tried.

But that wasn’t even it. That wasn’t why I hurried out of the kitchen in embarrassment and near tears. I ran toward the maid quarters and into my room.

I slammed it shut and dropped to the floor, the stench, the awful realization, more painful than anything I had ever known.

Now this was the full unfolding:

Ever since Luna Venice was found lifeless in those woods, I was apprehended and branded a murderer, despite my desperate attempts to explain myself. Every word I spoke only dragged me deeper into a crueler fate. To my horror, the three omegas who had come into the woods with Marvin testified that they saw me strike the Luna with that rod I hadn’t noticed the stranger had left behind. And my torn, blood-stained clothes were paraded as proof, twisted into a disguise for a crime I did not commit. No one believed someone who was already hated and condemned as a curse by all. It landed me straight from a despised daughter to a rejected, mistreated omega in the packhouse. A position that was considered fair enough since Luna Venice narrowly escaped the cold arms of death.

But there was a more severe complication.

One that was never mentioned.

One that no one knew about, except the Alpha and, of course, his son, Marvin.

I took a long inhale and dashed into the washroom when the bell rang, signifying the beginning of the occasion. The mating ceremony, and I had even forgotten today was my eighteenth birthday until I heard a stranded voice at the back of my head.

“Happy birthday, Rita.”

I startled in panic, with soap clenching into my palms, and eyes stirring through the fog with a frightened, stunned gaze.

“Who’s there?”

A pause, and then the strong presence in my head, like an awareness of another being in there, prettily sitting and staring with those lovely, bright red eyes and a smile I had never felt nor seen directed at me.

That was when it stirred in me. My wolf. I had a wolf. Finally, I could hear the voice of my wolf?

Tears of joy prickled at the corners of my eyes. They cascaded down my skin, sinking with the fog and soap along my body. I never believed I could ever hear the voice of my wolf. Waiting for four solid years without a wolf was the worst fate any werewolf could have endured. And worse, I never mentioned it to anyone because it was a taboo. In short, no one in our werewolf clan had ever exceeded fourteen without the voice or presence of their wolves.

“So I’m not a curse?” my voice trembled, heavy with emotions.

“No. my dear, you were never a curse but a blessing to be cherished,” she breathed before blinking, her eyes blazing and soothing, ones I wanted to feel, to touch. But as I admired her, I felt something oddly strange. Something I could neither pick nor wrap my head around.

I wanted to ask what that was when she lifted her gaze to lock into mine.

“Forgive me, Rita…” the pain in her voice stealing off the smile.