The Luna Who Burned The Pack

CHAPTER 2.1

I'm locked in a wagon with no window or a hint of light anywhere. The only sign that I am alive in it is the lantern burning yellow, and the man seated next to me.

From the whispers I had heard, he’s no one but the infamous rogue Alpha: Curran Thornblade. From what I deduced with my big brain, Alpha Curran and his wolves had invaded Dark Moon with no warning, and they hadn’t hurt anyone. No, they just rounded everyone up.

My Alpha, the person who was meant to watch out for me and keep me safe, even though he had never performed that duty, had handed me over to the invader, knowing fully well that anything from torture, r**e and unspeakable things could be done to me. He knew that, yet he held me down and surrendered me to our attacker.

With no remorse.

They watched as I was manhandled into this wagon, and no one had come to save me. Not even an attempt had been made, but what had I expected?

Why did I think people who had tried their best to kill me would save me when they sacrificed me to save themselves? What a fool I am.

A strong wind blew against the wagon, and the canvas on the outside of it flapped open. I watched the pack that has been my home for sixteen years.

I have no real recollection of how my mother got here, but the story went as such; sixteen years ago, my mother had sought refuge within Black Moon pack, but she had arrived with severe injuries. The pack healers tried their best to heal her, but two months later, she lost her life and suddenly, I was an orphan.

Because my mother had come into the park under the helm of protection, when she died, the protection over her died with her, and I was left alone. No one came to my rescue. If anyone wanted to, they didn’t dare because Alpha Gideon made it clear that I was to be ostracized.

I began to do chores as a child of seven. While other kids played around and ran with the wolves, I was bent over scrubbing the floors, feeding the horses and washing the dishes used to eat by the shape-shifters. I only ate when everyone else was done, and if I was caught taking a break, I would be beaten.

Things got worse after my sixteenth birthday. On every born wolf’s sixteenth birthday, they got their wolves. Our wolf was meant to be a part of us. Another sentient being that melded with our souls and allowed us to shift and become stronger.

I had been looking forward to getting my own wolf because I thought that it would change my position in the pack. What a fool I was. I had woken up that day all excited and walked to the hall with a song on my lips and a gait in my steps.

I watched all the other teens get their own wolves, and by the time the clock struck midnight, it was another day, and I was wolf less. That was when my life changed for the worst.

Everyone in the pack had been careful with the way they treated me because of the possibility that I got a strong wolf hung over their head, but when that didn’t happen, they declared open season on me.

Sasha was the first ringleader who launched the attacks on me. I will be mopping the floor, and she will kick the bucket so that the dirty water splashes on the places I had already cleaned.

When she got tired of doing that, she resorted to pouring dirt into the leftover food when everyone else was done eating so that I would have nothing to eat. I don’t know how I survived that week. A kind omega who worked in the kitchen would slip me a small loaf of bread, and I would drink so much water till I almost got sick of it.

The height of her evil came to a head when I had mistakenly bumped into her in the dining hall one day. They had been eating hot pot that day, and in a fit of rage, Sasha grabbed the boiling pot of soup and poured it on me.

That was the first time I screamed. And it was also the last. I had been blinded for a couple of days, and Alpha Gideon had given Sasha a mild punishment to save his face. If he had done nothing, he would have had to answer the pack.

I had found that ironic. They all partook in bullying me, but they decided there was a line somewhere. Like it made them better than Sasha because, at least, they hadn’t poured soup on me.