My name is Lorraine Anderson.
Once, that name meant something. Once, my family was respected. My father, Gabriel Anderson, was Beta of the ShadowFang Pack, my mother his fierce and loyal mate, was a respected Nurse in the Alpha's infirmary. We had honor. We had strength. We had a good reputation.
But five years ago, this Pack that my parents gave there all for betrayed them.
Lies turned my father from a trusted Beta into a traitor that worked with rogues to kill the last Alpha. My mother was branded a conspirator. I was young but I understood that my parents had been framed.
I remember the blood. I remember the screams. I remember hiding in the cellar, my tiny hands pressed over my ears, waiting for them to come for me next.
But they didn't kill me, they should have.
Instead, they let me live, to suffer, to serve, to be remminded every day that I am nothing but the daughter of traitors. A stain on their pack. I became their slave, their punching bag, their entertainment when they were feeling particularly cruel.
And today was no different.
It was a simple mistake. A stupid one.
I was supposed to clean the dining hall after breakfast. Scrub the floors, clear the tables, make myself invisible. That was the rule; stay unseen, stay silent, stay useful. But my hands were stiff from the cold, and I was moving too slow. When I reached for a tray, my fingers fumbled, and a single plate slipped.
Just one plate.
It hit the floor with a sharp crack, barely a sound in the large hall, but to the pack members lounging nearby, it was as if I had shattered sacred glass.
The room fell silent.
My heart pounded as I quickly bent to pick up the broken pieces. Maybe if I moved fast enough, they'd ignore me. Maybe—
A sharp, mocking laugh cut through my thoughts.
"How pathetic."
I didn't have to look up to know who it was. Stephen Wyatt. The new Alpha's son. The future leader of this wretched pack.
A chair scraped against the floor as he stood. I kept my eyes down, hoping, praying, he would lose interest.
He didn't.
His boots appeared in my vision, stopping just inches from my hands. My fingers trembled as I picked up a shard. I barely had time to register the movement before Stephen kicked the piece from my grasp.
"You dirty little rat," he sneered. "Can't even do the one thing you're supposed to be good for."
I kept my head down. Submitting. It was the only way to avoid worse punishment, I had learnt that the hard way.
But Stephen didn't want submission today. He wanted entertainment.
"Stand up," he ordered.
I hesitated. That was a mistake.
Strong fingers immediately tangled in my hair and yanked me upright. Pain burned across my scalp, but I swallowed the gasp that threatened to escape.
"Maybe you need a lesson," Stephen mused, voice dripping with false sympathy. He turned to the other pack members. "What do you think? Should we remind the little traitor what happens when she disrespects her betters?"
Laughter rippled through the room. Agreement followed.
My stomach clenched. I knew what was coming.
Public humiliation. Beatings. They would make an example of me, because I had dropped a single plate.
The pack dragged me outside into the training grounds, where more wolves gathered. Word spread fast when there was a show to watch.
The cold air bit at my exposed skin as Damian shoved me to my knees in the dirt. My hands curled into fists. I willed myself not to shake.
Alpha Wyatt watched from his usual place by the wooden post, a smirk on his lips. He wouldn't stop this. He never did.
Stephen cracked his knuckles. "Let's see if we can finally break you."
The first blow came fast. A sharp kick to my ribs. The impact sent me sprawling, pain exploding through my side. Laughter erupted around me.
"Again," Alpha Wyatt called lazily, "I doubt she felt that"
Another kick hit me.
I gasped but clenched my teeth.
No sound. No weakness.
"Still not begging?" Stephen crouched in front of me, golden eyes gleaming. "You really are pathetic."
I lifted my gaze, my hazel eyes locking onto his. I didn't speak.
Stephen's smirk faltered.
Anger flickered in his expression. He grabbed my hair, jerking my head back. "Speak, mongrel."
I refused.
My mouth filled with blood, thick and metallic. I gathered it on my tongue, then spat.
The red splattered across his perfect boots.
There was silence at first.
Then came the rage.
The next blow sent me crashing into the dirt. More followed, kicks, fists, jeers. I curled inward, protecting what little I could. The pain was endless.
But so was my hatred.
One day.
One day, I will rise.
One day, I will make them all pay.
But today is not that day.
Today, I endure.
And after a while of being a public punching bag, it was over.
The last kick landed against my ribs with a sickening crack, followed by laughter as my body slumped to the ground. My cheek pressed into the dirt, the taste of blood thick in my mouth.
But they finally shuffled away, their voices fading into the distance.
They were done with me.
They had beaten me to their satisfaction and left me like discarded trash, uncaring if I ever got up again.
The world around me was silent, except for the faint rustling of the trees in the wind. My body screamed, every nerve on fire, but I didn't move.
I couldn't.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
Then, the first drop of rain fell.
Cold. Sharp.
It landed on my bare skin, a tiny sting against an ocean of pain. Another followed. Then another. And soon, the heavens opened.
The rain poured down in sheets, soaking through my torn clothes, seeping into my wounds, turning the dirt beneath me into thick, clinging mud. Every drop felt like tiny daggers against my bruised flesh, amplifying the pain I was already drowning in.
I wanted to stay there. To let the storm take me, let the cold numb everything until I felt nothing at all.
I wanted to die.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
With a shaky breath, I forced my arms under me. My muscles screamed in protest, my ribs threatening to cave in, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it. My fingers dug into the wet earth as I dragged myself forward, inch by agonizing inch.
The pack house loomed ahead, its lights a cruel reminder that warmth and shelter were just out of reach.
Every movement I took forward sent fire through my body, but I didn't stop. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of finding me here in the morning, half-dead in the mud like a dying dog.
I reached the steps, my fingers curling around the wooden railing as I pulled myself up. The door was only a few feet away now. Just a little more... then ut all happened so fast.
Pain exploded through my stomach as a leg forcefully kicked me out.
I barely had time to register the impact before my body was airborne, flung backward. My back hit the ground hard, the breath torn from my lungs.
Through the haze of pain, a voice chuckled.
Stephen.
He stood in the doorway, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement as he lowered his foot, the same foot he had just used to kick me.
"You really don't know your place, do you?" he drawled, stepping closer, his shadow looming over me.
I gasped, struggling to breathe, my ribs barely cooperating. But I forced myself to meet his gaze, refusing to cower.
Stephen smirked. "Don't worry. By this time tomorrow, you won't have to anymore."
Something in his tone made the blood in my veins turn to ice.
He crouched down, gripping my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. "Tomorrow night, we're finally getting rid of you."
The rain pounded harder, drowning out the distant sounds of the pack house. But I heard him perfectly. I heard every single words he said.
Tomorrow night.
The full moon.
The Lycans were coming.
Alpha Wyatt will hand me over to them as the chosen candidate for the Lunar Crest Academy scholarship.
The realization settled like lead in my stomach.
Every year, one wolf from the Feral Packs was "chosen" for the Lunar Crest Academy scholarship.
None of the "chosen" ever returned alive.
This wasn't an honor. It was a death sentence.
And I was next.
Stephen leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Try not to die too quickly," he whispered. "I heard the Lycans like to play with their food."
Then he let go, shoving me back into the mud before stepping over me like I was nothing.
I didn't move.
I just lay there, rain washing over me, pain anchoring me to the ground.
Tomorrow night, I was going to die.