Chapter 1

Lisandra

The floorboards give way to each step I take, soft squeaks of protest filling the room. My bare feet move quickly across the floor and I wince as I hear an abnormally loud creak come from beneath me. 

Although the packhouse is large and modern, in many ways it’s equally as old. The appliances and plumbing are updated regularly yet most any other update is specifically cosmetic. I know without a doubt, with a bit of love and care, that the packhouse could make a warm and inviting home. As it stands, it’s cold and sends chills down my spine for an entirely different reason. 

Biting my lip and with the utmost care so as to not step on splinters, I make my way to the other side of my room and manage to reach the window. Holding my breath, I brace myself and pull it upwards with all the strength I can muster. As it slides up with a shuffling noise, it takes everything I have not to let out a delighted squeal. The damn thing is usually so stuck that I rarely get it open once a month. A smile starts to play on my lips and I decide to leave it open for the day and let the room air out a bit.

I make a mental note to clean it later, though I remind myself that I’ve made that same mental note everyday for nearly three years. The musty smell of mildew and mothballs in the attic has already started to dissipate and a soft breeze carries the scent of fresh grass and wildflowers in. I stand still and sigh as it wafts across my face. I stifle a yawn as the warm morning sunlight dances across my cool forehead. Morning is the best time of day to me, a time I can simply be by myself and enjoy the serene beauty of the packlands outside my window before reality rears its head. 

“Just another crappy day but soon,” I exhale softly while soaking in every bit of the sun’s rays, basking in the joy of my open window. My smile starts to grow and I find myself happy for the first time in a while, “Soon I’ll be done with this. One way or another.” I murmur. 

I catch a faint reflection of myself in the windowpane behind the buildup of dirt and dust. Although barely visible, the image- ragged and exhausted- is a concrete reminder of my place in this pack. My blonde hair looks dirty and dull, missing the red tint I know it’s supposed to have. The shine that I can remember seemingly gone. My eyes, a little too large and a little too blue, stare back at me almost eerily. My lips are full and pink with a small cupid bow on top, chapped from day to day life and lack of skin care in general. I try to smile at my reflection but it comes across tight and unnatural, my slightly upturned nose crinkles in annoyance. 

I shake my head slightly so as to distract myself from those thoughts and turn my attention to the scene outside the window. The sky, which is a shade of soft, peachy pink, tells me it must be a bit past seven. Leaning forward, my hair falls to the side as I take a deep breath of fresh air and prepare to head down. First, I admire the lands once more, trying to hold on to the happy feeling lingering inside of me. 

The front yard is a subject of pride and looking down from the attic one can easily see why. All kinds of flowering plants stand at the front, moving with grace and elegance in the rhythm of the breeze.

 It’s covered by miles and miles of forest on all four sides, separated from the woods by tall, sturdy walls. The design is one of elegance, ornate and carved into the stone. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember and I find myself wondering who put them up and how long it took. I can’t imagine it was an easy job. It’s a pretty impressive place- at least from an outsider’s perspective. 

I grimace. My attention momentarily turns to the front yard, where three pups are busy playing. The sound of mischief rises through the air and a pang of sorrow fills me. Sorrow not for the pups but for myself. I don’t usually give into such feelings yet lately I can’t seem to keep hold of them. 

An omega trails behind the pups, most likely trying to coerce them into the house for breakfast. I’m usually supposed to go help make breakfast for the pack and should have today. I worry my lip between my teeth and let out a dejected sigh, reluctantly turning away from the grimy window to throw on a pair of athletic pants and a tank top. I make sure to grab a set with small holes and stains, though most are like that anymore.

After dressing, I make my way to the little bathroom across the hall from the attic room and brush my teeth. I never understood why a bathroom was put up here in the first place but I wasn’t about to complain about it. In all likelihood, most of the pack wasn’t even aware it existed. 

Rolling my shoulders, I take a deep breath and make my way to the kitchen. Half way down, I can already hear muffled voices drifting up to me and I feel panic start to rise. I say a quick half hearted prayer that today will be nondescript and just pass me by. One can hope.

The kitchen, although large and organised most of the time, is always found in a state of disarray whenever it is time for a meal. I don’t find the chaos all too surprising as I enter, bumping into other members of the pack every now and then.With each collision, the bruises all over my body scream at me, reminding me of the day to come- one of the many side effects of my day job I suppose. I hiss and wince with each bump and jostle and they flash me a look of annoyance or pity, some even mumbling an apology before hurrying off. While some may sympathise with me or wish me well, no one dare voice it, no one dare come to my defence. It was an unspoken rule that all abided.

My stomach lets out a low grumble as the scent of sizzling bacon reaches my nose, teasing me with its tantalising aroma. Taking hurried steps towards the countertop, I take a place at the end and hand plates to the pack members as they stare hungrily at the food. Most ignore me completely, save a few snide looks. By the time the work in the kitchen is done, my body has become all the more tired- if that is even possible- and I can feel the burning sensation of hunger in the pit of my stomach. Though truth be told, I did little more than wait my turn, yet my body has already decided that it's done enough for the day.

Tossing some crispier bits of bacon and an omelette onto my plate, I make my way towards a dining table. There are three set up in the room, which sits just off of the kitchen. I plant myself at the emptiest one and feel myself tense up a little, feeling every pair of eyes at the table on me. The ones who were animatedly talking become silent as I settle down. I cringe inwardly and avoid looking at any of them. 

“It’s Lisandra- the slave; the bait,” I can hear a taunting voice, purposely just loud enough for me to hear. 

My body instantly freezes at the words, shame heating my cheeks. I don’t need to look up to know who it came from. In my head, I can already see her long brown hair, perfectly coiled and bobbing slightly as she giggles at her own comment. She’s probably wearing a posh pink outfit that emphasises her better features. One thing about the girl, she knows how good she looks. Cassie Rain, one of the more outspoken pack members that just doesn’t like me for her own reasons. Her friends all giggle along, clicking their tongues at the misfortune I find myself in. I clench my teeth and bite my own tongue as I look down at my plate, keeping my eyes trained on the food as I pick up a strip of crispy bacon and begin to eat rather hurriedly. The sooner I’m done, the sooner I’m gone.

Being with them is suffocating, though honestly being in this pack is, it's not just them. My knuckles turn pale and I clench my seat beneath me, Cassie and her posse smirking towards me as my breathing begins to shallow. Their attention is quickly caught by someone entering the room and I let out a breath. I finish off my breakfast, giving the others at the table a curt nod before carrying my plate to the sink. As I place it in the soapy water, I’m caught by the elbow. 

“Next time, perhaps you can bother to actually help make the food rather than simply helping to get rid of it.” The voice is soft and carries a hint of pity, Lena, the head Omega. 

I nod and mumble an apology as I walk away, knowing that the only reason she mentioned it is for my own well being. Lena has been the closest thing to a mother I’ve had since my own had died and she’s likely the only one in the pack I’d ever want to truly help. The rest could burn for all I care.

As soon as I leave the dining hall, I look around anxiously as I bite my lip. Now it’s time to wait- wait until the warriors are ready to hunt; wait until I’m needed and pray that I’ll be needed again tomorrow. Because if I’m not then it means the rogues win today and I lose.