Nod

"No, this is a mistake! A wolfless, overweight werewolf can't be my mate." His words hit me hard. Whispers erupt from the crowd, murmurs of disbelief and judgment that swirl around me like a storm. But I won't let them see how much it hurts. I won't give him the satisfaction. I square my shoulders, forcing a smile that feels like it's going to crack my face. "Well, Bran, I guess the Moon Goddess has a sense of humour after all," I say, despite the pain running through me. "Too bad she didn't give you one." Everywhere is silent now, shocked by my words. Bran's eyes turn red with anger. But I hold my ground, refusing to let him see how much I'm breaking inside. "Talia," he begins, but I cut him off before he can say more. He is going to reject me anyway. "Don't worry, Bran," I say sarcastically. "I'm sure there's some loophole you can find to get out of this. After all, you can't have someone like me ruining your perfect reputation, right?" He turns away. "This conversation is over, Talia. You should leave." I feel the sting of his rejection like a physical blow, but I don't let it show. I won't give him or anyone the satisfaction of seeing me break. Instead, I nod, keeping my head high as I turn on my heel and walk away. Talia, a wolfless wolf in her pack, has been a subject of mockery in her pack just because she's fat, wolfless, and eats like a glutton. Her situation turns worse when the Moon Goddess decides to give her Alpha Bran, the pack's Alpha, as a mate. He rejects her on the spot. What will be Talia's fate after the rejection? Let's see.

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

I'm Alpha Bruce Smith's most docile and understanding daughter. In fact, I'm the type who obeys literally anyone's orders. When my parents pick me up at the Rogues' den and take me back to the pack, my adopted younger sister, Andrea Smith, begins making fun of me. "I thought the Rogues killed you for sure! I never thought you'd be able to return to the pack, safe and sound! You really are lucky! Why can't you just die already?" With hollow eyes, I just nod quietly. Then, I extend a claw and move to stab myself in the neck without hesitation. My parents are terrified out of their wits. They quickly stop me from hurting myself. But my older brother, Tobias Smith, remains impassive about my condition. "You really love attention that much, huh? What makes you think you can still remain my sister, anyway? You might as well drink some wolfsbane and die!" That night, I grab a bottle of poison and down it immediately. Tobias discovers me afterward. He whisks me to the hospital anxiously. When the doctor tells him that I'd die if he were two minutes later in discovering me, Tobias' complexion turns pale. Some time after that, when Andrea snatches my necklace from me, she loses her balance and falls down the stairs. Her fiance points at me while exclaiming, "It's just a necklace! If anything were to happen to Andrea, you'd better pay the price with your life!" Pay the price with my life, huh? I don't hesitate to draw the silver sword out of its hilt on the wall. Then, I slash my throat with it. My parents happen to witness it. Shell-shocked, they scream at the top of their lungs. "Call an ambulance! Hurry!" Tobias tries to stem the blood flow with trembling hands. He's completely stunned by the ordeal. What everyone doesn't know is that they've been calling me a lowlife during my five-year stay in the Rogues' den. Even if I could live 100 times over, those lives are nothing compared to Andrea. Even if I gave my life, it would never be enough—because to them, my life was never worth anything in the first place.

On the day my love fades away for good, I've finally learned something about my mate, Ethan Langley. He's not hopeless when it comes to directions—he just can't remember which path it is that leads to me. Ethan is the Alpha of the pack, whereas I'm his mate. We've been mates for ten years. But whenever I need him, he always gets lost. On the day of our marking ceremony, Ethan got lost in the pack territory. Because of that, the ceremony was delayed for another three days. Every year on the marking anniversary, Ethan would always get lost. The food in the evening banquet I always prepared would always go stone cold. When I was eight months pregnant with my pup, I sent an SOS message to him through the mind-link after I suffered from a bad fall. While Ethan screamed at me that he'd be there through the mind-link, he was physically lost in the pack territory for five hours. By the time our packmates came to my rescue, my pup was already dead. As I lay on the stone bed in the healing center, my packmates came over to comfort me. "Ethan can't navigate at all to save his life. He didn't do this on purpose. Don't get mad at him, okay? You two will still have pups in the future." I could only nod in a daze. But on the day we were supposed to attend our pup's funeral, I realized that Ethan was familiar with the road when he was behind the wheel in the SUV. He even took a detour just to drop by the residence of Lyria Jeffries, a female Beta. "Elena, there's still some time before the funeral starts. I'm going to send Lyria home first so that she can visit her family." Before I could object, the car had already stopped right outside Lyria's residence. Lyria got into the front passenger seat as though it was the most natural thing to do in the world. She wore a bright smile as she said, "Look at how well I've groomed you, Ethan! If you ever forget the way to my place, I'll make sure to skin you alive!" Only then did Lyria notice me, who sat in the backseat. She pretended to be bashful as she stuck out her tongue. "I was just kidding, Elena." I endured Lyria's "harmless" quips with a stony expression. But right after Ethan dropped Lyria off, he forgot the way to the funeral immediately. Because of that, the funeral was delayed by half an hour. As I held my pup's tiny urn, I felt my heart sinking into the pits of my stomach. It turns out that there exists someone who can be exempted from Ethan's hopeless sense of direction. It's just that… my pup and I are never the exception.