Miss Nobody’s Strike-Back

The golden warmth of the exclusive rooftop venue spilled through its glass walls, illuminating polished leather shoes and shimmering evening gowns. Inside, laughter flowed as freely as the vintage champagne. Outside, in the damp alley behind the venue, the night was bitterly cold. “Look at you, Clara,” Julian said, his voice laced with irritation as he glanced at his golden wristwatch. “You came here wearing a sweater that looks like a blanket, and you've spent the last two hours hiding near the appetizer table. I'm trying to network with high-ranking pack families, and every time someone looks at you, I have to explain why my girlfriend looks like she wandered in from some ordinary school library.” Clara stood frozen, clutching the strap of her worn shoulder bag. Her fingers trembled against the fabric. She only came because he had insisted she be there to support him. But no words came. They never did. A severe fever during childhood had damaged her vocal cords, leaving her completely mute. At Lunarcrest Academy, an elite institution where bloodline, status, power, and the strength of one's wolf determined their place in society, Clara's silence had always made her an easy target. Julian knew that better than anyone. Clara quickly pulled out her phone and typed a message, turning the screen toward him. I told you I wasn't feeling well. You asked me to come. I came because you needed my support. Julian glanced at the screen. He didn't even bother reading the entire message. “Support?” He gave a bitter laugh, adjusting the lapels of his custom-tailored suit. “Clara, you can't even speak, let alone command a wolf. We don't fit the aesthetic anymore.” His gaze swept over her simple clothes. “Look around. People here care about presence, style, and status.” He paused. “You take up space without adding anything to it.” His eyes hardened. “You're just... Miss Nobody.” The words struck her like a slap. Clara's throat tightened. Before she could process the weight of his cruelty, Julian turned his back, stepped into the waiting elevator, and left her standing alone in the dimly lit alley. The heavy doors slid shut, sealing him inside his glittering world. And leaving her in the dark. A silent sob shook Clara's chest. She stumbled out of the alley and onto the main avenue, the cold wind cutting through her wool cardigan. Halfway across the street, the heel of her favorite black pumps snapped beneath her. She lost her balance and collapsed onto the cold stone curb beside a darkened storefront. Tears washed away her eyeliner, leaving dark streaks across her cheeks. With trembling hands, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of sweet red wine she'd bought earlier. She twisted off the cap and took a long drink. The alcohol burned down her throat. A nobody. Her fingers tightened around the bottle. He called me a nobody. Across the street, beneath the deep shadow of an awning, a tall figure stood watching. Lucian. He had noticed Clara the moment she entered the rooftop gala. In a room filled with wealthy heirs, powerful pack families, and people desperate to prove their worth, she had been the only person who seemed determined to disappear. Something about her quiet presence had caught his attention. Now, after watching Julian abandon her, Lucian had followed at a careful distance. His dark coat blended into the night as he stood with his hands buried deep in his pockets. His wolf was restless. Every instinct urged him to cross the street, offer Clara his jacket, and wipe the tears from her face. But he held himself back. She didn't need pity. She needed to find her own strength. Then two drunk men stumbled out of a nearby pub. Their eyes landed on Clara. They slowed. Lucian's expression changed. His gray eyes narrowed, and a dangerous Alpha aura rolled off him. He stepped away from the shadows. One step. Then another. Three deliberate steps carried him into the beam of the streetlamp. The men froze. They caught sight of his broad frame, sharp jawline, and the unmistakable warning in his eyes. Neither man said a word. They turned and hurried down the block. Lucian watched until they disappeared. Only then did he look back at Clara. She hadn't noticed him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared down the empty avenue where Julian's car had disappeared. The tears were still there. But something else had taken their place. Anger. Clara slowly straightened her back. For years, she'd allowed people to mistake her silence for weakness. She'd lowered her eyes. Swallowed her anger. Made herself small so other people could feel bigger. Not anymore. You think I'm invisible, Julian? Her fingers tightened around the bottle. You think I'm nothing because I can't speak? Her chin lifted. Just wait. The pain in her chest was still there, but beneath it burned something she'd never allowed herself to feel before. Defiance. Determination. Power. I'm going to make you regret every single word. Across the street, Lucian watched the transformation happen before his eyes. The girl who had been curled helplessly on the curb was gone. In her place stood someone else. Someone who had finally decided to fight. A faint smile touched Lucian's lips. “That's it,” he murmured into the cold night. “Show them who you are.”