Chapter 1

Nora

“Hey, where are you going with those tiny legs of yours?” Helen scoffed, coming closer towards me.

Oh shit, not again. I cursed under my breath.

“I-I’m going to my room,” I stuttered, my hand shaking and my whole body shivering.

“Did a cat catch your tongue?” Felicity blurted out. Her voice echoed, making me realize Helen was never alone. She and her friends always followed, like shadows that brought nothing but pain.

They laughed. They always laughed.

“Oh baby girl, don’t mind that piglet of a girl. Maybe her dead parents died with her tongue,” Helen chuckled. The sound of her cruel voice stabbed through me, and her friends burst out laughing behind her.

Hot water,no, tears dropped down my cheeks before I could stop them. Reminding me of my parents’ death was always their favorite weapon. My precious uncle had told me the story again and again. He said my parents were brutally killed by rogues that stormed the pack sixteen years ago.

My father had fought bravely. He tried to protect my mother and me, but he was struck down with a silver sword that no one knew where it came from. According to Uncle, all the rogues had been killed, so who brought the sword still remained a mystery. My father’s blood covered the battlefield.

He told me my mother had been told to run with me, but because of the mate bond, she returned when she felt my father’s pain. She ran back into death, unable to stay away from him. The mate bond was too strong.

I hated that bond. I still do.

Because of it, I lost everything.

Sometimes I blamed my mother. If only she had obeyed my father and kept running, maybe I would have had someone to fight for me now. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck under Helen’s torment every single day.

But what I hated the most was that I couldn’t remember anything. I was six when it happened. I should know their faces. I should know their voices. But my mind is empty.

Whenever I asked, Uncle Johnson would tell me the same thing.

“My dear, you suffered amnesia. The trauma was too much for you.”

So I lived with emptiness, and with Helen’s cruelty.

Since she returned from college when I was ten, my life has been nothing but misery. She uses me as a rag, forcing me to clean her floor five times a day, screaming if she finds even one speck of dust. She steals everything Uncle gives me clothes, shoes, food and laughs when she sees me walking around like an omega. Even omegas, weak as they are, are stronger than me.

Still, I keep quiet. What else can I do?

“Are you okay, little Nora?” my precious uncle always asks when he sees my swollen eyes. I call him precious uncle because he is the only peace I have. He gives me what I need and makes sure I survive.

But how do I tell him it’s his daughter giving me these swollen eyes? How do I explain that Helen takes everything away?

“I’m fine, Alpha Johnson,” I always reply with a sniff. He insists I call him that, though at first it felt strange. Over time, I got used to it.

Helen smirked now, her eyes glinting with hatred. “Are you dumb, you daughter of stupid dead parents?”

Her high heel slammed into my head before I could move.

I screamed, the pain sharp and hot. Something warm trickled down my forehead and dripped onto my clothes. I touched it with shaking fingers.

Blood.

“Oh my God, it’s my blood,” I cried out, my vision spinning.

The laughter around me grew louder. “Look, the little weakling bleeds like a slaughtered pig,” Helen mocked. Her friends joined in, their voices echoing like demons.

My knees wobbled. The hallway blurred. I wanted to run but my legs felt nailed to the floor. My heart pounded so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest.

“Pathetic,” Felicity muttered. “She doesn’t even fight back.”

I bit my lips so hard they almost bled. Fighting back was useless. They were stronger, faster, crueler. And me? I was just… Nora. Small, weak, unwanted Nora.

My tears mixed with the blood on my face. I wished my parents were here. I wished I could remember even one moment with them, one hug, one word, something to hold on to. But all I had were stories told by my uncle, and I couldn’t even be sure they were true.

“You should have died with them,” Helen hissed, bending close to my ear. Her breath was hot and sour. “Maybe then the pack wouldn’t have to carry the shame of you.”

Her words cut deeper than her shoe.

Something inside me snapped. I wanted to scream at her, to curse her, to tell her she would pay one day. But my lips trembled, no words coming out.

Then, as my body swayed, I noticed something at the far end of the hallway.

A shadow.

A tall figure stood there, watching. My heart stopped. Uncle Johnson? Was he here all along? Did he see? Why didn’t he come?

I blinked, and the figure was gone. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks.

But before I could think, my legs gave out.

The world tilted sideways. The laughter faded into whispers. My blood smeared the floor as my head hit the cold tiles.

And in that fading moment before darkness swallowed me, I heard something strange—Helen’s voice, low and sharp.

“She doesn’t even know what she is. Uncle would kill us if she finds out…”

What?

What did that mean?

My lips tried to form words, but nothing came.

Darkness dragged me under.