By the time I was sixteen, the pack had stopped calling me by my name.
I was human.
I was a servant.
I was mistake.
Those words followed me more faithfully than any shadow.
That morning began like most others, with cold stone under my bare feet and the sound of wolves laughing somewhere above me. Dawn light barely reached the lower quarters of the pack house, and the air smelled faintly of damp earth and old wood. I had slept on a thin mat near the storage room, curled tight to keep warm, listening to the distant thud of footsteps overhead.
They were awake. That meant I had already failed.
I pushed myself up quickly, ignoring the stiffness in my limbs, and grabbed the broom leaning against the wall. The Alpha family would be up soon. If the halls were not spotless by then, punishment would follow. It always did.
As I swept, dust rising in pale clouds, I kept my thoughts small. Thinking too much led to hoping. Hoping led to disappointment. Disappointment led to mistakes.
I was halfway down the main corridor when the doors at the far end swung open.
My heart sank.
Kael and Rhys entered together, their presence changing the air instantly. Even without looking, I felt it. Wolves carried their power like heat. The Alpha heirs carried it like a weapon.
I lowered my head and stepped aside, pressing myself against the wall to give them room.
It was not enough.
"Still breathing?" Kael said.
His voice was sharp with amusement. The kind that meant trouble.
I swallowed. "Good morning."
Rhys laughed softly. "She greeted you. How polite."
Kael stopped directly in front of me. I could feel his gaze crawling over my bowed head, my hands clenched around the broom handle.
"Look at me."
I hesitated.
That was mistake number one.
His hand struck the broom from my grip. It clattered loudly against the stone floor, echoing down the corridor.
"I said, look at me."
Slowly, I raised my eyes.
Golden met brown.
His were bright with irritation, like I had offended him simply by existing in his space.
"Disgusting," he muttered. "Do you know what your problem is?"
I shook my head.
"You forget your place."
Rhys leaned closer, tilting his head as if studying an insect. "She does not forget. She just hopes."
I felt something tighten painfully in my chest.
"I don't hope," I said before I could stop myself.
Silence fell.
The wrong kind.
Kael smiled. "You talk too much for something that should be grateful."
He shoved me backward.
I stumbled, my shoulder slamming into the wall. Pain flared, sharp and bright, but I bit down on the sound that tried to escape my throat.
Crying only entertained them.
"Clean the courtyard after morning training," Kael said. "With your hands."
My stomach dropped.
"Yes," I whispered.
They moved past me, laughter trailing behind them like smoke.
I waited until their footsteps faded before sinking to my knees and retrieving the broom. My hands were shaking badly now. I pressed them together, breathing slowly until the tremor eased.
This was normal. This was survival.
By midmorning, the courtyard was alive with movement. Warriors trained in tight circles, bodies colliding, claws flashing. The air rang with snarls and shouted commands.
I knelt at the edge of the yard, scrubbing dried blood from the stone with a rough cloth and a bucket of cold water.
Each scrape burned my fingers raw.
No one helped. No one ever did.
Dorian stood near the steps, arms folded, watching the training with a critical eye. The future Beta noticed everything. Including me.
"You missed a spot," he said calmly.
I froze. "I'll fix it."
"You always say that."
He approached, boots crunching against gravel, and pointed to a faint stain near the center of the yard.
"That," he said. "Do it again."
I nodded and crawled closer, lowering my head as I scrubbed harder. My palms screamed in protest, skin already split and bleeding.
"Careful," someone said mockingly. "She might faint."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
I focused on the stone. On the rhythm. On anything but the eyes on me.
Elias stood among the warriors, watching from a distance. Our gazes met briefly before he looked away. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.
I did not know which hurt more. His silence, or the others' cruelty.
When training ended, I was dismissed with a flick of Dorian's hand.
"Don't bleed on the floors," he added. "It stains."
I retreated quickly, keeping my head down as I passed through the pack house. My arms felt heavy, my legs weak. Hunger gnawed at me, sharp and persistent.
By the time the evening meal was served, my vision blurred when I stood too fast.
The great hall filled with noise. Plates clinked. Meat sizzled. The pack laughed and argued and lived.
I sat on the floor near the kitchen door, waiting.
Sometimes there were leftovers. Sometimes there were not.
Lena was gone. She had been reassigned weeks ago, sent to another territory. Since then, no one spoke to me at all unless it was to give an order.
A bowl slid across the floor toward me.
I flinched.
Elias stood there, holding nothing now.
"Eat," he said quietly.
I stared at the bowl. Thin broth. A few scraps of meat.
"Thank you," I murmured.
He nodded once and turned away before anyone could notice.
I ate quickly, afraid it might be taken back.
That night, after the pack had settled, I lay awake on my mat, staring at the dark ceiling.
My hands throbbed. My shoulder ached. My heart felt bruised.
I thought of the Alpha heirs' laughter. Of Dorian's cold eyes. Of the way no one ever said my name.
Something inside me shifted.
Not anger. Not yet.
Something heavier. Final.
I rose quietly, slipping on my boots and cloak. No one stopped me. No one noticed.
Outside, the moon hung full and bright, bathing the forest in silver light. The path before me felt familiar, even though I had never walked it alone before.
I did not know what awaited me at the end of it.
I only knew this.
If I stayed, I would disappear piece by piece until there was nothing left.
And if I left, at least the choice would be mine.
I stepped into the trees, unaware that the pack had already lost something it would one day kneel to beg for.
Unaware that the girl they ignored was already becoming a legend.