Claimed by My Stepbrothers

The Rogue Wolf

Saoirse

I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. I just stand there, paralyzed by humiliation as the cheers echo through the ballroom like gunshots.

So that’s what this was.

This is not a party, or an invitation, or even a chance to belong. It was a game. And I was the prize.

Phones flash. Laughter booms. Someone even films me, like I’m a circus act they can’t wait to post on their social medias.

And then — A drunk guy stumbles up, eyes bloodshot and grin too wide. He wraps a sweaty arm around my shoulders like we’re lovers. Like he owns me.

“C’mon, girl,” he slurs in my ear, breath thick with tequila. “Don’t be shy. With that face? That body? You should be grateful someone brought you here.” He scanned my body that made me feel disgusted.

My stomach churns.

And across the room—I see Cain.

Still. Cold. His arms are crossed, jaw clenched so hard I can see the tick in it. His eyes—

His eyes are murder.

But he doesn’t move.

And Cyrus . . . He tries to push forward but some girls press into him, giggling, distracting him like this is just another scandal to flirt through.

I shove the drunk away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Feisty,” he laughs, stumbling. “That’s cute.”

But Chloe’s already slithering to my side, her claws finding my wrist. Her voice is syrupy and sharp, like poisoned honey.

“This is what happens when you think someone like Rhaziel would ever want a girl like you,” she purrs, dragging her nails down my skin like it’s hers to mark.

I rip my hand back. “I never wanted him.”

“Liar,” she sings.

The girls laugh louder now, surrounding me like a pack. Hyenas. And just when I think they’re done, Chloe’s hand darts forward.

To my chest. To my necklace.

No.

“No! Let it go!” My voice cracks with panic. “Please—it’s from my father—!” I begged her with all of my heart, even if it were to humiliate me.

But she yanks it anyway. The chain snaps. The pearls scatter. And my world ends.

I freeze, kneeling on instinct, reaching for the pieces, but Chloe’s heel kicks my hand away.

“Oh my God,” someone whispers. “Chloe, that’s too far—”

But Chloe just smiles.

I can’t help but shift my gaze to the people who made this show but Cain still hasn’t moved like he’s not enjoying the show and Cyrus is still tangled with the girls.

“You think this is power?” I spit, rising, shaking with fury. “You think this is fun?” I pointed at all of them, my voice is trembling.

If only I can, I will slap everyone.

My voice trembles but it carries. “You’re all disgusting.”

Chloe laughs and raises her hand to slap me—

But a hand catches hers mid-air.

Cain.

He steps between us, calm and dangerous. His voice low, intimate.

“Too drunk, Chloe?” he murmurs, eyes locked on hers, not a shred of concern in his smile.

She smirks, like they’re in on the same sick joke. “Just tipsy enough to see through charity cases.”

He licks his bottom lip, tilting his head. “Then maybe it’s time to rest.”

She raised her brow. “Don’t tell you care about her?” She clenched her jaw.

He smiles. “No, but I’m bored.” And that hurts, he’s speaking that as if he didn’t mark me and it hurts that his scent and everything about him wants to cling to him.

And it’s clear he’s partnered with Chloe.

He doesn’t even look at me.

And that hurts more than if he’d joined in.

Cyrus finally reaches me, brushing my arm. “Hey—Saoirse—”

“Don’t.” I shove him away. “You both planned this, didn’t you? You ruined everything.”

And then—

Something inside me cracks.

Pain surges down my spine like fire. My knees buckle.

A voice—clear and strange—slices through my skull.

“Hi, Saoirse. I’m Nyx. I’m your wolf.”

I scream. The crowd gasps as my back arches unnaturally, my skin burning as bones twist and snap.

“Shift,” Nyx whispers. “Let them see what they created.”

“No… not here… not like this…”

“Too late.”

“Shift! Film it!” someone yells.

“No! That’s enough! STOP!” another voice cries—but it’s drowned by chaos.

Girls scream. People scatter.

I howl.

Not Saoirse anymore.

Not prey.

Nyx bursts out of me, silver and burning with rage. We leap past the velvet ropes, teeth bared, fury pouring from every muscle. The crowd parts like a bloody sea.

“Should we kill them?” Nyx snarls.

“No,” I whisper from inside her. “They’ll get what’s coming.”

We run.

The forest wraps around us like safety. My paws tear into the dirt, but my soul feels no lighter.

And then—weakness.

Nyx stumbles. “He’s near…”

“We have our mate there.”

“That’s not a mate. That’s a monster.”

We collapse near an old tree, shifting back.

Pain. Agony. Bones grinding.

Naked and shivering under moonlight, I cover myself with a torn dress stashed in the trunk. I can still feel their laughter echoing in my chest like knives.

And just as I stand—

A growl rips through the dark behind me.

I turn.

A giant brown wolf. Eyes like blood.

“An Omega will get killed by a rogue wolf whose color is brown with red eyes,” Father once said.

Well then.

I guess I’m ready, Dad.

I lost the last thing you gave me.

Let the monsters come.