Author Note: The first two chapters have had a complete overhaul, for a better reading experience. Please enjoy. [May 28, 2024]

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What are you supposed to do when your pack—your family—has decided you're worthless?

Get a job.

Save money.

Dream of getting the hell out of there.

It's a futile thing to hope for, but it's the only thing I have that keeps me going.

Until then? I'm just me. Ava Grey. Wolfless. Weak. The shame of the Grey family.

Which is why I'm spending another Friday night working at Beaniverse, a popular coffeeshop in the middle of White Peak, a solid hour's drive away from pack land. No shifters, no drama, no bullying; the only people I run into all day are humans with a caffeine addiction. Or social media addictions. People love to use our lobby as a backdrop for their latest reel.

"Come out with me tonight."

Lisa pops her head into my field of view as I wipe down the espresso machine.

I have no major attachments to my job outside of my pay, but it is my favorite place to be because of her. Lisa is my best friend—okay, my only friend—and she makes me dream of something more than the Blackwood Pack and my uncertain future in it.

"Can't. Dad wants me home as soon as I can."

The grimace that twists her face gives me a warm little tingle in my chest. At least someone gets me.

Even if she's a human and has no idea that I come from a family of wolves.

Dad—our pack beta and an expert at curt text messages demanding my presence home—only allowed me to get a job because he was tired of seeing me at home, I'm pretty sure.

And because every single cent of my paychecks that didn't go to gas went to the thousand dollars I'd borrowed for my beat-up old clunker Taurus in the parking lot. It's my baby, and I love it, but I'm one weird splutter away from wrecking on the highway.

Still—the little freedom it allows me is worth it.

Anything is better than being home.

"You should just move out. We can get an apartment together and party all night." Lisa says this just about every day we work together, and it never grows old. I want that life, too. I don't even need the partying. I just want to get away from my pack.

But wolf shifters don't just let go of their own. Even wolfless defects like me.

I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose, hating how they slide. I probably need a new prescription, but I haven't had the time—or extra money—to pour into that. I'm still wearing the same glasses Mom got me (much to her disgust) several years ago.

It's like a neon sign saying she doesn't belong with us.

No shifter has bad eyesight. It's like a gift from our wolves.

Only I don't have a wolf.

I flick the dirty towel in her direction, watching her squeal and jump back. "I would if I could, and you know it. Aren't you supposed to be restocking our cups? Our dinner rush is going to come in any minute."

"Fine, fine—but I still think one night of telling him to fuck off won't hurt. Maybe it'll teach your parents that you're an adult and they can't control you."

Hah.

That won't ever happen.

Dad's the pack beta. Even if he acknowledged me as an independent adult, I'd still have to do what he says. The only person above him in the pack is our alpha—also not someone I'd like to cross on a daily basis.

"It's a cultural thing," I mutter, and she drops it. For now.

Lisa will come back to it. She always does. She's been showing me apartments for rent, coming up with mock budgets, even discussing our school schedules. Lisa's pushy in the sweetest way, where she's just desperate for me to become independent.

She was the first person to notice the control my family has over me.

The first person to care.

The first person to say words that I still can't admit out loud.

"Your family is abusive. Who the hell does this?"

My family loved me once. Before I came of age and they realized I had no wolf at all.

I have warm memories. Sweet memories. Memories that I bring out at night during my lowest times. Memories of Mom when she used to smile and laugh and rock me when I cried. Memories of Dad when he would throw me onto his shoulders and tell me I could reach the stars. Memories of Jessa and Phoenix when they would call me their baby sister, and show me off proudly to anyone they saw.

Good times.

Gone times.

Maybe it would hurt a little less if I hadn't shared that affection with them once. Maybe it would hurt a little less if it hadn't simply… disappeared. If Mom's blue eyes hadn't gone from warm like a lake in summer to frigid winter skies. If Dad hadn't thrown me into the woods with no clothes, no food, and no shelter, telling me to survive. That the hardship would bring me what I wanted most, what I was missing.

My wolf.

Spoiler alert—it didn't work. He's still mad about it.

* * *

Leaving work is always a little production in the parking lot after closing. Lisa never leaves until I'm safely on the road, half in worry that my car will break down (and honestly, I have the same fears), and the other half because she's concerned I'm going to get mugged.

When I pointed out to her months ago that she could have the same things happen, she grabbed my hand and said seriously, "You would help me. So I'm going to help you."

I love her.

There's a little guilt that even with my one and only friend, my ride-or-die girl, I have yet to admit that I'm a shifter. I haven't explained to her that I'm from the local pack.

She just thinks I'm neglected and abused from a normal human family, and I have to convince her not to call the cops at least twice a week. Especially when I show up with new bruises.

They wouldn't be able to do anything, anyway.

The pack has different laws. No part of the government would interfere in pack matters.

Honestly, the only way to guarantee my escape from my family and pack is to find my fated mate in another. I dream about it—we all do. It's a fantasy I can't let go of.

But sometimes it hurts to even think about the possibility, because there's always the chance that I have no fated mate.

Or worse, that my life in a new pack is just like my life here.

The night air is warmer than usual for the beginning of spring, but the crisp scent of rain is carried on the breeze, telling us all that a temperature drop is coming.

The scenery changes from the bright, artificially lit business strip to the quiet neighborhoods of White Peak, occasionally lit by a street lamp every block or so. Eventually, those buildings give way to an unlit rural road that leads into the Blackwood Pack territory.

The road is familiar; I've driven it countless times in my life, but tonight, it feels different.

It's darker than usual, under the waxing crescent moon. The trees seem to close in on me, casting long shadows across the road. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I navigate the twists and turns, feeling my anxiety wriggle about in my belly, like a fish dashing about in shark-infested waters.

The silence in my car is palpable, almost suffocating. My eyes dart to the rearview mirror every few seconds, half expecting to see glowing eyes or shadows lurking in the darkness behind me.

Being the pack defect means you're also the pack punching bag. One of the young wolves' favorite pastimes is hunting the wolfless.

They can't go after humans. The only time the government can threaten our sanctuary is when we've harmed humans.

But they can go after the next best thing.

Me.

A shudder rips down my spine and through my arms, a familiar reaction to the memories floating through my head, of the pain my body remembers.

My hands jerk on the wheel as a hulking form dashes across the streak of my high beams.

"Shit!"

I slam on the brakes, my car fishtailing on the dark road. Tires squeal against pavement. The stench of burning rubber floods my nose. My head whips forward, slamming into the steering wheel as the car spins to a stop.

"Fuck..."

I groan, squeezing my eyes shut against the throbbing pain in my skull. Stars burst behind my eyelids. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.

I must have bitten my tongue.

Shit. They usually wait until I'm home to corner me. Fucking with me on the road so blatantly is new.

My hands shake as I peer out the cracked windshield. The road ahead is empty. No sign of whatever ran in front of my car.

There's about zero percent chance it's anyone other than a Blackwood wolf.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. I need to get home.

At least that way, even if I'm beaten to within an inch of my life, Mom and Dad will call a healer when it gets too bad. They've done it before.

Probably because they don't want to lose their live-in maid, but I like to think it's because they care at least a little bit.

I need to get out of here. Now. Before they come back.

I reach for the keys, still dangling from the ignition. Pain lances through my right wrist and I hiss, cradling it to my chest. Must have sprained it in the crash. Fuck.

Gritting my teeth, I use my left hand to turn the key. The engine sputters and dies. I try again. And again. Each time, I'm met with that same pathetic whine.

"No no no, come on..." Desperation bleeds into my voice. "Please..."

I glance in the rearview mirror, half expecting glowing eyes to materialize out of the darkness. My breathing turns ragged, panic squeezing my lungs.

I'm a sitting duck out here. A rabbit cowering in the open, just waiting for the wolves' jaws to close around me.

The snap of a branch breaking has me flinching, a whimper escaping my throat. I turn slowly, dread churning in my gut as I peer out the driver's side window.

That's when I see them. Two pinpricks of eerie yellow light, hovering at the edge of the trees.

Watching me.

...

The eyes stalk me from the shadows, unblinking. Unwavering.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My hands tremble as I turn the key again. The engine sputters, coughs. Please. Please start. I can't die here. Not like this.

Another turn. A whine. A sputter.

The wolf steps out from the tree line, massive and menacing. Its fur blends with the night, a specter of death and torment.

I can't make out any distinguishing features in the darkness. No way to know which of my abusers has come for me tonight.

The engine roars to life. Thank God.

I slam my foot on the accelerator, tires screeching against pavement as I peel off down the road. My heart hammers against my ribs, blood rushing in my ears.

In the rearview mirror, I can see the wolf chasing me. Keeping pace with my car as I navigate the winding roads.

He howls, a promise of pain.

It's all a familiar, sick game. I hate it. I never know when it's coming; when someone's bored enough to begin.

It never ends well though. Not for me.

The streets of my neighborhood come into view. Mom and Dad won't save me, even if I'm being slaughtered in the front yard—but if I can make it inside, that's a different story.

No one disrespects the beta's home.

I whip into an awful parallel parking job, the car jerking to a stop. My hands shake as I fumble for my keys, dropping them twice before I manage to grab them.

I just need to get inside.

Throwing open the car door, I stagger out on trembling legs. The keys jangle in my grip as I stumble towards the front door.

Almost there. Almost—

I can smell wet fur. And rage.

I spin around, keys clenched between white knuckles. My heart stops.

The wolf stands mere feet away, lips curled back in a snarl. Saliva drips from dagger-like fangs. His russet fur tells me everything I need to know about his identity.

Todd.

He loves to torment me and always has.

But he just watches as I grab the door from behind my back, turn, and rush inside.

Tonight is a reprieve; I'll take it.

Locking the door behind me, I take a moment to lament the damage to my car. I have no idea how much it will cost to repair my cracked windshield; it'll eat into the savings I've been painstakingly gathering.

Damn it.

"Ava. Come here."

Ugh. Straightening my shoulders, I walk toward my parents, worried butterflies floating around in my stomach.

Dad, of course, says nothing about the wolf outside. He doesn't give a shit. He knows exactly what they do to me; as long as it isn't in his eyesight, where he has to deal with it, he won't say a word.

Dad is seated in his favorite armchair, his expression stoic as always. Mom stands behind him, her disapproving stare leveled over my shoulder. I can't remember the last time we had eye contact outside of being dressed down.

I bow my head as I enter the room, focusing my gaze on his muddy boots.

I don't bother greeting him with words. All he wants to see is my submission. Words are a waste of time coming from the lowest ranking member of our pack.

None of them say a word as I cradle my wrist; they're blind to any injuries or illness I suffer.

He clears his throat. "You will be attending the Lunar Gala this year. I trust you have enough money from your… job to be properly dressed for the occasion. Be grateful that our Alpha allowed you such a luxury."

My hands tingle with shock, and cold breezes straight through my limbs, shoving past all that anxiety to settle straight into my brain. What?

My heart skips a beat, thuds a little harder, and then skips another. The Lunar Gala. I've missed out on it for the past two years.

The gala is a big deal, encompassing the Northwestern Territories. Unmated wolves from all over will be there, hoping to find their fated mates.

Technically, the gala is a way to unwind after the Northwestern Council meets and talks all their pack politics—but in reality, the Lunar Gala is more of a matchmaking ball. Alliances are made when high-ranking shifters mate into other packs, and new blood is brought in.

It's strange for the Blackwood Pack to attend this year. Even Jessa hasn't been to one; historically, our entire pack avoids it. The official story is that there's bad blood between a few alphas and ours, but I doubt the other packs are the problem.

Dad's irritation at having to attend is a palpable force in the room, and I risk a quick glance upward. He's looking over my head, not even straight at me, like I'm beneath his notice.

His nose wrinkles as though some offensive odor came through, but of course there's nothing. Just me. "Phoenix and Jessa will be there, so make sure to present yourself without disgrace."

And just like that, he leaves. No more explanations. Just a beta throwing out his orders and expecting everything to fall into place.

I fight to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I'm buzzing with excitement at the idea of leaving this place even if it's only for a night.

The Lunar Gala is a chance to escape, to breathe outside of this stifling pack dynamic. But I know better than to show my true feelings.

Mom steps forward then, her voice causing goosebumps to erupt all over my arms. The back of my neck prickles at the force of her disregard.

"At least try not to act like a complete pariah, Ava," she says at last, as though it's hard for her to figure out what to say at all.

I stare down at my shoes, fighting against the urge to step closer to the jasmine and honey fragrance she wore. So much of me just wants to be enveloped in it like I had been in my childhood, back when I had a mother who embraced me and spoke lovingly in my ears.

"Of course," I respond, my voice smaller than a mouse. Her distance hurts so much more than Dad's. "I'll act appropriately." It sounds like they're interested in Phoenix and Jessa making a match.

Not me, of course.

I have no idea why I'm going, but I have the feeling it's nothing more than a PR stunt.

Mom sighs, forcing a look of patience over her elegant face. She moves as if to pat my shoulder, but her hand never touches me—just hovers right above, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but without partaking in it.

"Jessa will take you shopping. Do something with your hair. Get something nice. You have enough from that… coffeeshop, don't you?"

Of course. They would never spend the money on me.

"Yes, Mom."

She grimaces. "Don't get something cheap. Remember that you're representing our family. And for my sake, try to avoid bruises where anyone can see them. You'll make our pack look feral."

And that's it, before she's off in a swish of perfume and rejection.

Despite the usual torture of wishing for affection from the family who had loved me once, my heart races with anticipation. Excitement. Fear.

The Lunar Gala—a rare chance for me to experience something beyond this suffocating world.

Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of what life could be like outside the pack's iron grip. Maybe I'll mate with someone and leave here. Maybe everything will change.

Is it so bad to think that way?

...

[WARNING: Sensitive content ahead.]

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Days pass with little regard for the anxiety building in my belly every time I crawl into bed at night, watching the phases of the moon, wondering what this next chapter of life will look like.

Aside from a brief shopping excursion with Jessa—who ignores me almost the entire time and scoffs at every dress I try on—I don't leave the house except for school and work, trying to avoid trouble.

I spend any spare moment I can manage picking up extra shifts at Beaniverse to help pay for the atrocious bill at the mall. Who spends three hundred dollars on a dress? But Jessa insisted that it was the only one that didn't make me look like I was wearing a silk potato sack.

Lisa's busy, too, so our texts are few and far between, mostly complaining about work and school.

My family's indifference weighs on me like a thick blanket, but beneath it, a tiny bud of hope sprouts—maybe, just maybe, I'll make it to the gala without incident. A week remains before the event that could change my life, or just as likely, confirm my place as the outcast.

Today, like the rest of the past two weeks, appears to be yet another day of unsettling peace as I head home after class with groceries in my passenger seat.

Phoenix is stopping by for dinner, so I have his favorites on the menu—a creamy garlic and parmesan roasted chicken, paired with bacon-wrapped brussels sprouts tossed in maple syrup and balsamic vinaigrette.

It sounds fancier than it is, but it really is delicious, thanks to the internet recipes I'd found years ago.

As the appointed alpha heir to the Blackwood Pack, Mom always fawns on Phoenix. Dad was thrilled enough that he had a son with alpha potential, but when Alpha Renard's last son was killed in a small skirmish with renegade wolves and Phoenix was named heir, he strutted more like a peacock than a wolf for at least a month afterward.

One day he will be Alpha Phoenix Blackwood, but for now, he's still a Grey.

I juggle the flimsy plastic grocery bags with the grace of a dying fawn as I make my way into the empty house.

The peace of these past few weeks must have rotted the self preservation sphere of my brain, because I don't pay any attention to my surroundings as I unlock the front door and walk in.

As I step further inside, a breeze tickles my neck and the door slams with a force that can only mean trouble, bringing a familiar and unwelcome scent to my nose.

Todd Mason, my childhood bully and ever-present tormentor, is here. Inside. With me. Right now.

Ready to finish what he'd started a couple weeks ago.

He stands right in the entrance of my home, his face twisted into a sneer that chills my spine. I can't even step away as my brain struggles to catch up to the situation, watching as he reaches behind him to lock the door.

"I hear you've been playing princess, thinking you're being sent to find some fuckwit willing to take you as a mate." His voice drips with malice as he steps forward, slapping a hand against my chest.

My back slams against the wall with a dull thump, and Todd's hand circles my neck, lifting me until I'm standing on the very tips of my toes.

All the bags fall to the floor, and for a moment my idiot brain focuses on the apples that thud against hardwood. They'll be bruised. We'll have to eat them faster than I expected.

"What makes you think you're good enough for the gala, huh? You think you can ever escape our pack?" His breath is hot and tuna fresh on my face, and I turn away, repulsed.

His other hand slaps against my cheek, forcing me to face him again. He growls every word, rejoicing as they stab into all my insecurities, bleeding me of all those precious hopes and dreams I've kept in secret. "Do you actually believe anyone would want you? A wolfless freak like you? You'd be rejected in a heartbeat."

My heart pounds against my ribcage, a trapped bird desperate for escape. His grip tightens in response to my struggle, and my mouth opens as I begin to pant for air.

"Defective," he hisses right into my ear, and I can feel his tongue flick over it. I shudder, bile rushing into my throat, making it even harder to bring air to my burning lungs. Punches, kicks, scratches—those, I'm used to. Rocks thrown at my head. Jeers and taunts. But this? This isn't the torturous game I'm used to.

Anger flickers through my limbs as I grab onto his forearm, scratching long, angry swathes down his skin. I try to kick, but he steps in closer, pinning my legs against the wall with his weight. Sadistic prick.

"Get off me," I hiss, jerking my entire body and trying to ignore the hard evidence pushing against my belly of exactly how much he's enjoying this moment. "If any bruises show, Dad's going to be furious. You really want to piss off your beta that much?"

Normally, Dad doesn't give a shit when I come home with bruises, but now the gala is just around the corner. If his youngest daughter showed up with bruises all over, there might be questions.

Todd hesitates, his fingers flexing around the tender skin of my throat, and I lower my eyes. A long time ago, I would refuse to submit, taking every abuse thrown my way and plotting revenge. That was before I learned that real life is nothing like the storybooks we are raised on.

If he's looking for submission, I can give him it all day long. Whatever lets me live to tomorrow. Whatever keeps his dick in his pants and out of mine.

"Please," I whimper, infusing the sound with a little vibrato, as though I want to cry. I tilt my head further back, baring my neck to him.

Todd loves that. His growl of approval sends revulsion shuddering through every millimeter of my skin, and I struggle to keep my face blank as he sniffs beneath my left ear, licking the crescent-shaped scar on my neck in a long, slow drag of saliva and mayonnaise-slathered fish.

Bile struggles to escape my body with force, but I somehow manage to avoid puking in his face.

"Please," I beg again, feeling his fingers loosen just a little. His other hand falls to my hip, tugging me closer, and I close my eyes, breathing through my mouth to offset the metallic tang behind my jaw. "I need to make dinner. Phoenix is coming home tonight."

Pain lances through me as Todd bites my shoulder, his jaw rigid and unyielding. The shriek that escapes me is beyond my control, and I slap at his shoulder in a frantic attempt to escape, writhing against his grip. "Todd! Fuck! That hurts!"

He grunts, finally letting go, but not before suckling a motherfucking hickey onto my skin. He grips my jaw, staring into my eyes, and I realize then that the game has somehow changed for him. For me.

I'd expected a beating, but instead my tormentor grins at me in maniacal satisfaction. "You'll never leave us, Ava. You're a defective piece of shit, but you belong here. There's no prince on a white horse among our packs. There's nothing to save you at the gala. You'll be our little omega breeder soon enough, even without your wolf."

My stomach falls to my feet. "Omega… breeder?"

He chuckles, squeezing my jaw harder. "You'll be our little pack whore, Ava. Even without a wolf." The relief when he lets go is replaced only by a horror as his hand slides slowly down my neck, between my breasts, and rests gently against my belly, pushing in, before sliding a little farther to cup between my thighs and squeeze. "You won't be good for much else, but at least we can fill this with little pups."

I'm beyond throwing up. I can't even feel most of my body anymore. Everything is dark around the edges, but his words keep slithering into my ear, poison to everything good inside me.

He holds my hips in both hands and pushes his erection against me, rocking hard, nibbling on my jaw, leaving a trail of slime. "You're lucky enough to be a pretty little defect, Ava. It won't be too hard to use you." He groans, rocking faster against me, pulling my legs around his hips. "Fuck, Ava. I'm going to breed you until you learn your place, you understand?"

Yeah, I get it.

Kind of hard not to, as he rocks and grunts and moans.

I don't think my body is even mine anymore.

He's panting in my ear, and I realize too late that he's giving me instructions. The fist in my abdomen brings me back to the moment that I was trying desperately to escape in a corner of my mind. I concentrate on the pain as he shoves me onto my knees and opens his jeans in frantic movements.

"Beg me for it, Ava," he rasps, forcing my hand around the length of him, smaller than I thought it would be and smelling like a gym bag full of dirty underwear.

But then I hear a familiar engine, and Todd freezes, his head tilting as he listens. Then he shoves it all into my mouth anyway, jerking in a frenzied kind of way as my lips split at the corners and I gag, my entire body heaving with the force of my rejection.

My mouth is full of something bitter and nasty in seconds, and he growls at me to swallow as he shoves his dick back into his jeans, just in time for the door to open.

My brother's distant brown eyes take us all in, pausing on the groceries scattered all over the floor. He doesn't seem to notice me on my knees in front of Todd, except for a slight lift of his upper lip in the faintest sneer. He nods to Tom in a curt motion. "Mason." I know he knows what happened, because his nostrils flare. He has to scent it in the air. But he does nothing.

Nothing.

Todd's smiling, rolling his shoulders back even as he lowers his head in submission. "Alpha heir. Ava was just telling me you were coming home for dinner. I was just stopping by to check on her." He speaks with an intimacy he shouldn't be able to claim, and my belly rebels against it all—his words, the taste in my mouth, and everything I had just endured.

I dash to the bathroom, ignoring Todd's laughter as it follows behind me. But the tears that come with my forceful retching aren't for the assault. They're not for my innocence. They're not for the rules of this new, changed game.

No.

They're for the brother who knows what he walked in on. The one who ignored it all. The one who doesn't give a shit that his baby sister was just assaulted in her own home.

Fuck.

I can't stay here. No matter what.