The Girl Who Doesn't Exist

Sable's POV

---

The first thing I learned at Ravencrest Alpha Academy was how to disappear.

Not literally. I'm not that lucky. But I learned how to make people's eyes slide right past me, how to become furniture, how to exist in the spaces between important people so they forget I'm there at all.

It's a survival skill. The only one that matters.

My eyes snap open at 4:47 AM. Three minutes before my alarm. My body doesn't need the extra sleep anymore. It's been trained out of me.

I slip out of bed, careful not to make the old springs creak. The servant's quarters attached to Odette's suite are small. Barely big enough for a cot and a dresser. But it's mine. Sort of.

First task: Odette's uniform.

I pull the pressed blazer from the closet, checking for wrinkles. There's one on the sleeve. I smooth it with my palm, then hang it on the hook by her door. Next, the skirt. The blouse. The tie. Everything in order.

Her skincare products come next. Cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer. In that exact order. I learned the hard way what happens when I get it wrong.

"What do you mean you put the serum before the toner?" Odette had screamed at me six months ago, her face red, her hands shaking. "Are you trying to ruin my skin? Are you that jealous of me?"

I wasn't jealous. I was just tired. But I learned.

The tea is the tricky part. Four minutes steeping. Not three. Not five. I set a timer on my phone and watch the seconds tick down.

At exactly four minutes, I pull the tea bag out and place the cup on her nightstand.

She's still asleep. Golden hair spread across her silk pillowcase, face peaceful, like a painting of a princess. She looks innocent when she sleeps. She looks like someone who's never done anything wrong.

I know better.

---

The walk to the academy takes twelve minutes. I know because I've walked it every day for two years. Odette walks ahead of me, her chin high, her heels clicking against the cobblestone path. I follow ten paces behind, carrying her books.

Students part for her like she's royalty.

"Good morning, Odette!"

"Love your hair today!"

"Did you see the new arrivals? So beneath you, obviously."

She smiles at them. That perfect, practiced smile that makes people feel like they've been blessed. She doesn't look back at me once.

I don't exist.

In the dining hall, I sit at the end of the omega table. The food here is barely edible. Cold porridge, stale bread, watery juice. But it's what I can afford. Alpha Whitmore gives me a small allowance for "necessities." It covers tuition and not much else.

I'm halfway through my porridge when I see them coming.

Odette's friends. Three girls who've made torturing me their favorite hobby. They walk past my table, and one of them, a blonde named Celeste, "accidentally" knocks my tray to the floor.

The hall laughs.

I don't look up. I just slide off my chair and kneel on the cold stone floor, scooping porridge back onto the tray with my bare hands. It's humiliating. It's supposed to be.

"That's so sad," Celeste says loudly. "She can't even afford to buy new food."

"Maybe if she wasn't so useless, her wolf would actually work," another one adds.

They walk away, laughing.

I clean up the mess. No one helps.

---

The library is the only place where I can breathe.

I find my usual corner, tucked behind the history section where no one ever goes. The books here are old, dusty, forgotten. Perfect.

I pull one from the shelf. Bloodlines of the Ancients: A Study of Extinct Wolf Dynasties.

It's probably nothing. It's probably garbage. But I've been having these dreams. Dreams of a woman with silver eyes. Dreams of running under a moon that's too big, too bright, too wrong. Dreams that feel more like memories.

My wolf stirs inside me. She's been doing that more lately. Pushing against my skin. Whispering things I don't understand.

Not here, I tell her. Not now.

She doesn't listen.

I flip through the book, scanning pages. Most of it is boring. Bloodlines that died out centuries ago. Packs that no longer exist. But then I find something.

The Moon-Touched.

An ancient bloodline said to be blessed by the moon goddess herself. Characterized by silver eyes, extraordinary power, and an unbreakable connection to the lunar cycle. Hunted to extinction by packs who feared their strength.

I stare at the words. Silver eyes. Like the woman in my dreams.

"That's a good one."

I nearly drop the book.

Stellan Crowe is standing at the end of the aisle, watching me. His pale grey eyes are unreadable, his white-blonde hair falling into his face. He's beautiful in a way that's unsettling. Like a statue that might come to life when you're not looking.

"I didn't hear you," I manage.

"You weren't supposed to." He walks closer, and I resist the urge to back away. "The Moon-Touched. Most people think it's a myth."

"It's just a book."

"Everything starts as just a book." He tilts his head, studying me. "You come here a lot."

"I like to read."

"Alone."

"Yes."

He smiles. It's not a normal smile. It's like he knows something I don't.

"I like to be alone too," he says. "But lately, I've been feeling like I'm waiting for something. Someone." He pauses. "Do you ever feel like that?"

My heart is pounding. I don't know why.

"No," I lie. "I don't feel anything."

He laughs. Soft and knowing.

"Liar."

Before I can respond, he's gone. Just... gone. Like he was never there.

---

From my corner, I watch the three Alphas hold court in the main hall.

Garrick Voss is the easiest to spot. He's tall, broad, built like a fighter. He has a freshman in a chokehold against the wall, and the kid is gasping, tears streaming down his face.

"Say it again," Garrick growls. "Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Garrick releases him, and the kid crumples to the floor. Everyone laughs. Garrick doesn't even smile. He just walks away, like the whole thing was boring.

Merrick Hale sits in a leather armchair by the fireplace. He's not doing anything. Just watching. His dark eyes move across the room, cataloguing, calculating. I've seen him do this before. He's memorizing everyone's weaknesses. He'll use them later.

And then there's Stellan.

He's by the window, staring at nothing. He looks like he's not even here. Like his body is in this room but his mind is somewhere else entirely.

For one terrifying moment, his pale eyes meet mine.

I look away first.

I always do.

---

That night, I return to the dormitory exhausted.

Odette isn't here. Probably at some party with her friends. The suite is dark, quiet. I should be relieved. I should take this chance to relax.

But something feels wrong.

I freeze in the doorway. The air is different. Heavier. Like the room is holding its breath.

I'm not alone.

"You've been hiding long enough, little one."

The voice comes from Odette's bedroom. I turn slowly, and there she is.

The woman from my dreams.

Silver eyes. Dark hair. A face that's both familiar and strange.

"Who are you?" My voice comes out as a whisper.

She steps forward, and I can't move. My body won't obey. "You know who I am. You've always known."

"I don't. I don't know anything."

"You will." She reaches out, and her fingers touch my forehead. "The moon is almost full. It's time to remember."

Images flood my mind.

A burning village. Screaming. A woman with silver eyes, crying, pushing a child into a cellar.

"Hide," she whispers. "Whatever you hear, don't come out. Don't make a sound."

Blood on snow.

A howl.

When I blink, the woman is gone.

But the memories remain.

I'm on my knees, gasping, tears streaming down my face. I don't know what I saw. I don't know what it means. But something inside me has cracked open.

My wolf howls.

Not a stir. Not a whisper. A howl. Loud and powerful and impossible to ignore.

And then I hear footsteps in the hallway.

Odette's voice, sweet and fake: "I'm telling you, something is wrong with her. I saw it. She's dangerous."

A male voice responds, low and familiar: "Then we'll take care of it. Your father will want to know."

The door handle turns.