THE WOLF THEY BURIED ALIVE

The first time someone called me a mistake, I was twelve years old. The second time, I was thirteen. By the time I turned twenty-five, I had stopped counting. In Blackthorn Pack, a werewolf's worth was measured by the strength of their wolf, the purity of their bloodline, and the position their family held within the pack. If you possessed all three, you were treated like royalty. If you possessed two, you could still earn respect. If you possessed only one, you had to fight for your place. And if you possessed none? You became me. "Nyla! Are you planning to stand there all morning?" I flinched at the sharp voice behind me. Mrs. Harlow, the packhouse supervisor, stood in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest. Her grey hair was twisted into a tight bun, and her expression suggested that my existence had personally offended her. I quickly lifted the basket of folded clothes from the bench. "I'm sorry. I was just—" "Thinking? That would be a first." A few girls standing nearby burst into laughter. I lowered my eyes. Arguing with Mrs. Harlow was pointless. She had supervised the packhouse for nearly twenty years and believed that being an Omega without a wolf gave her permission to treat me however she pleased. "Take those clothes to the western quarters," she ordered. "Then clean the dining hall. The warriors will be eating there at noon." "But I already cleaned the dining hall this morning." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning my instructions?" "No, ma'am." "Then move." I picked up the basket and walked away. Behind me, the laughter followed. It always did. --- The western quarters were nearly empty when I arrived. Most of the warriors were outside preparing for the upcoming mating ceremony, leaving only a few people in the corridors. I placed the folded clothes on the appropriate beds and hurried toward the stairs. I had barely reached the first step when a familiar voice stopped me. "Look what the wind dragged in." I closed my eyes briefly. Not today. Please, not today. I turned. Three young women stood at the end of the corridor. The one in front, Tessa, was the daughter of a senior warrior. She had a beautiful wolf, a family name people respected, and a talent for finding new ways to make my life miserable. Her gaze travelled over my plain dress before settling on the basket in my arms. "Still doing laundry? I thought the pack might have found you a more suitable occupation by now." "What occupation would that be?" I asked before I could stop myself. Her friends exchanged surprised looks. Tessa smiled. "Perhaps collecting pity." They laughed. I tightened my grip on the basket. "Excuse me. I have work to finish." I stepped around them, but Tessa moved into my path. "Tell me something, Nyla. Do you ever wonder why the Moon Goddess left you without a wolf?" The question struck a familiar nerve. I had wondered. Every night, I had wondered. When I was sixteen, I spent weeks sitting alone in the forest, waiting for the first sign of my wolf. I followed every instruction the elders gave me. I tried meditation, moon rituals, and every remedy suggested by the older women. Nothing worked. At eighteen, the pack healer examined me and announced that there was no sign of a wolf within me. At twenty, I stopped asking for help. Now, at twenty-five, I had learned to live with the answer everyone else had already accepted. I was wolfless. "I don't know why," I replied quietly. Tessa tilted her head. "Maybe the Moon Goddess forgot you existed." Her friends laughed again. Something inside me twisted, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. "Are you finished?" Her smile disappeared. "What did you say?" "I asked if you were finished. I have work to do." For a moment, she stared at me as though she had never heard me speak before. Then she stepped aside. "Careful, Nyla. You might start believing you matter." I walked away without answering. My hands were shaking by the time I reached the stairs. I hated them for making me feel small. But I hated myself even more for allowing their words to hurt. --- The dining hall was already crowded when I arrived to prepare the tables. Blackthorn Pack was one of the larger packs in the northern territories, and the upcoming mating ceremony had turned the entire settlement into a place of restless excitement. The ceremony was only three days away. Unmated wolves had travelled from neighbouring territories to attend. Families were purchasing new clothes, the kitchen staff were preparing elaborate meals, and the warriors were practising their ceremonial formations. Everyone had something to look forward to. Everyone except me. I arranged the cutlery, straightened the tablecloths, and placed fresh flowers in the centre of each table. The work kept my hands busy, but my thoughts kept returning to one person. Blake Mercer. Alpha Blake was twenty-eight, strong, handsome, and respected throughout the territory. He had inherited leadership after his father's death and had spent the past few years proving that he could command the pack. He was everything Blackthorn admired. And somehow, despite being the woman everyone considered least worthy of attention, I had fallen in love with him. It had started years ago, long before he became Alpha. I remembered the first time he defended me. I had been standing beside the training grounds, watching the other young wolves practise, when a boy shoved me into the dirt. Blake had pulled him away. "She's done nothing to you," he had said. The boy had laughed. "She's wolfless. She doesn't belong here." Blake had punched him. Afterward, he had helped me to my feet and brushed the dirt from my clothes. "Don't listen to them, Nyla." I had looked up at him. "Why do you care?" He smiled. "Because you're a person. That's enough." I had carried those words in my heart ever since. Over the years, Blake had become more distant as his responsibilities increased, but whenever we spoke privately, he still treated me with a gentleness he rarely showed anyone else. Sometimes he brought me food when he noticed I had missed a meal. Sometimes he asked about my day. Once, when I was sick, he had sent the pack healer to my room. Small things. Perhaps meaningless to him. But to someone who had spent most of her life being overlooked, they had meant everything. I knew people would laugh if they discovered how I felt about him. An Omega without a wolf dreaming about becoming the Alpha's mate? Ridiculous. Impossible. Still, the Moon Goddess had a way of surprising people. Three days from now, the mating ceremony would take place. And although I tried to silence the hope growing inside me, I couldn't stop imagining what might happen if the Goddess chose Blake for me. Perhaps he would look at me differently. Perhaps the pack would finally stop treating me as though I were a stain on its reputation. Perhaps I would finally have a place where I belonged. "Nyla." I nearly dropped a spoon. Blake stood at the entrance to the dining hall. My heart immediately began beating faster. "Alpha." His eyes moved over the tables. "Everything looks good." "Thank you." He approached, stopping beside the table I was arranging. "Have you eaten?" I shook my head. "I will after I finish here." His expression darkened. "How many times have I told you not to skip meals?" I managed a small smile. "You tell me every time you catch me working." "And yet you never listen." He took a plate from the serving counter and placed some food on it. "Sit down." "Blake, I still have—" "That was not a request." I stared at him. Then I sat. He placed the plate before me and pulled out the chair opposite mine. For several seconds, he watched me eat. The silence made me nervous. "Is something wrong?" I asked. "No." "Then why are you looking at me like that?" He leaned back. "Can't I look at you?" My cheeks warmed. "You can, but you don't usually do it while I'm eating." A faint smile touched his mouth. "Perhaps I should start." I looked down at my plate, hoping he wouldn't notice my embarrassment. He noticed anyway. He always seemed to notice things about me that other people ignored. "Are you nervous about the ceremony?" he asked. My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. "A little." "Why?" I laughed softly. "Do you really have to ask?" He understood. Everyone knew I had never awakened a wolf. Everyone knew that without a wolf, the mating bond might never reveal itself to me. Yet I still hoped. "I don't think the Goddess makes mistakes," Blake said. I looked at him. "What do you mean?" "Exactly what I said." He reached across the table and gently covered my hand with his. "Whatever happens at the ceremony, don't let anyone convince you that you're less than they are." For a moment, the dining hall seemed to disappear. It was only Blake and me. The man I loved was holding my hand and telling me that I mattered. I wanted to ask whether he had ever considered me as more than a friend. I wanted to know whether his kindness meant something deeper. Instead, I swallowed the questions. "Thank you," I whispered. He squeezed my hand before releasing it. "I have to attend a council meeting. I'll see you later." He rose and walked toward the exit. I watched him go, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the food. Then I noticed something. Sienna Vale stood near the doorway. She was beautiful, confident, and one of the most admired unmated women in Blackthorn. Her family had influence, and her wolf was considered exceptionally strong. She had been watching us. When Blake reached her, she touched his arm and said something that made him pause. He looked at her. She smiled. Then they walked away together. I stared at the empty doorway. Perhaps I had imagined the meaning behind his kindness. Perhaps he treated me gently because he felt sorry for me. The thought hurt more than I wanted to admit. I forced myself to finish my meal and returned to work. I had survived twenty-five years without being chosen. I could survive three more days. --- That night, I returned to the small room assigned to me in the Omega quarters. The room was simple: a narrow bed, a wooden wardrobe, a small table, and a window overlooking the forest beyond the pack boundary. I sat on the edge of the bed and removed the pendant I wore around my neck. It was the only thing my mother had left me. The silver pendant was old and strangely heavy for its size. Its surface bore a delicate crescent surrounded by three small circles. I had asked the pack healer about it once. She had gone quiet when she saw the symbol. Then she told me it was nothing more than an old ornament. I had never believed her. My mother had died when I was young, and I remembered very little about her. Whenever I asked questions, the adults told me she had been a quiet woman who became ill shortly after giving birth to me. Nobody seemed to know much else. Sometimes I wondered whether my lack of a wolf had anything to do with her. I turned the pendant over in my palm. "Who were you, Mama?" I whispered. A breeze slipped through the slightly open window. The curtains moved. Then the pendant warmed against my skin. I frowned. The sensation lasted only a second before disappearing. I examined the pendant, but nothing had changed. Perhaps my hands were simply warm. I placed it back around my neck and stood to close the window. Outside, the forest stretched beneath a pale moon. For a moment, I thought I saw a pair of silver eyes between the trees. I froze. The eyes vanished. I leaned closer to the glass. Nothing moved among the branches. I shook my head. I was tired. The ceremony was approaching, and I had spent the entire day being reminded of everything I lacked. My mind was playing tricks on me. I closed the window and drew the curtains. Then I climbed into bed. Tomorrow would bring another day of work, another round of insults, and another reminder that I was the only person in Blackthorn Pack who had never awakened a wolf. But as sleep finally claimed me, I heard something. A low, distant growl. I opened my eyes. The sound came again. It was too deep to belong to an ordinary wolf. And strangely, it didn't seem to come from the forest. It sounded as though it had risen from somewhere inside my own chest. I pressed a trembling hand against my heart. For twenty-five years, there had been nothing. No voice. No instinct. No wolf. But in the darkness, as the moon shone through the curtains, I felt something stir beneath the silence. Something ancient. Something furious. Something that had been waiting. And for the first time in my life, I wondered whether the people who called me wolfless had been wrong all along.