Chapter 1.
Lyra stumbled slowly trying to get close to something stable to hold on to, her vision getting blurry. She could feel it in her head. Her body betrayed her again, her legs gave out underneath her, as she jerked out of control, blood trickled down from her nose, staining her dress–her cursed seizures, the reason why she was a f*****g outcast.
“Lyra!” Sasha's voice called out as she rushed towards her. She grabbed her shoulders, shaking and alerting others for help, but the pack only stared unmoving. Nobody tried to reach out.
When the Doctor got to Lyra, she sighed — Of course, she would sigh. Who wouldn't? She was the only wolf in the entire pack who had epileptic episodes. Being a wolf was said to make them immune to all sorts of illnesses, but that part skipped her — just as the ability to shift into a wolf. At that point, she doesn't even think she counts as a real wolf.
When she was younger, her mom used to assure her that once she got her wolf awakening, the seizures would stop. But on the night of her eighteenth birthday, she hadn’t shifted under the moonlight like the others who had gotten their awakening, and the seizures didn’t leave her. That was the night everything changed — she became the most unwanted wolf. Her status dropped from enforcer to omega. She is lower than an omega.
The Pack Doctor injected her with a dose meant to stop the seizures, told Sasha she would be okay, then walked off — leaving her lying there in Sasha’s arms, blood staining her dress and tears streaming down her face. Wet hair soaked with sweat clung to her skin.
Sasha’s mom walked in, and just like that, Sasha dropped her to the ground like she was something filthy. Of course — who wouldn’t?
Sasha’s mom never liked her associating with Lyra. She was the Head Omega of the pack, the one in charge of assigning duties to every omega. She looked down at Lyra with a sneer.
“You'd better get up — now. Your chores won’t do themselves. You’re to clean the throne room and then join the kitchen omegas to prepare meals for the visiting King Alpha. There is no room in this pack for a spineless wolf... oh wait — you don’t even have a wolf,” she said, then laughed eerily.
Lyra pushed herself up, legs wobbling, forcing her body to move before anyone found her here. If Alpha Alexander caught her here, he’d make her beg for death.
A cold shiver slid down her spine. She didn’t need to turn. The air thickened, pressing on her chest. She swallowed hard; she knew who stood behind her. Her fingers curled into fists, knuckles white. She dared not lift her gaze to meet his eyes—his presence alone made her shallow enough.
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. What plausible excuse could she possibly give for standing here instead of setting up the grand throne room for the arrival of the King Alpha?
He shoved her on the ground and slapped her resoundingly, using the Alpha’s domineering power to make sure she didn't get up…she wasn't even struggling to stand up.
She lifted her gaze, just enough to meet his eyes. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the whimper clawing its way out. She knew—he was mind-linking one of the enforcers. Likely her brother. To torture her. Alexander kicked her by the side of her stomach, and she felt the pain everywhere, in her bruised ribs. The ones from the last punishment had not even healed she was already going through another torture session.
“You Witch, I should have banished you the moment you lost your value to this pack, but we still kept you around, and you can't do anything to add to our value, and you expect to get the same benefits with working people,” he said as he kept kicking and slapping her.
She couldn’t cry… but she could scream, and it always crawled under the Alpha’s skin. Pain ripped through her, and then came the blood, slipping from her nose again—the telltale sign of another seizure.
“Take her away from my sight, torture her, make sure you take her to the brink of death,” he said to the once familiar face of her brother. Her brother's sneering look was the last thing she saw before she went into another bout of seizure.
When her eyes fluttered open, she was strung up in an X. Pain clawed through her nerves, burning where silver kissed her skin. Even without a wolf, silver and wolfsbane still tore her apart, venom seeping into every body through the tears. The chains around her wrists, ankles, and even her throat bit deep. She forced her head up, jaw tight—only to find her tormentor for the day was no stranger.
Her brother.Enforcer Zach–The name she used just to get under his skin.
“Look who decided to join us for this session, the Pack witch had despite everything our parents had done, you had the guts to disgrace our name by being the Pack spineless wolf you can't even be called a wolf, you don't have a wolf but you are affected by things that affect a wolf” he said, her breath seized in her throat as he walked toward the long table with weapons to torture, the waiting was worse than the pain—knowing it would come, and knowing she couldn’t stop it.
He picked a long whip, he whipped it on the floor and smirked before walking towards her and whipping her without remorse continuously. She clenched her jaw tightly from the pain. The whip her brother had chosen had tiny silver thorns on it, so as he kept whipping her, her body jerked with each lash. Her Jaws trembled,
lips pressed so tightly they bled, but no sound escaped. The whip tore into her flesh with every lash…she felt as if she was being pricked continuously… Lyra really wanted the tears to run down her face. If not to relieve her pain, but to give them the satisfaction they wanted so they would believe she was in pain because she was really in pain, too much pain. She couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't yet dead. Maybe because she had been dead in her head for too long.
* * * *
Lyra’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and she looked around. She was back in her room. Someone had bandaged her wound, but one glance at the wrappings told her the person hadn’t bothered to clean it. The sting of wolfsbane still laced the injury, and if she went about her daily chores like this, the wound would decay. And it wouldn’t just leave scars—it could kill her.
Her eyes danced around, searching for something to cut the bandages off. Suddenly, they fixated on a picture frame—her only surviving property, the picture she had taken with her grandmother before she died. She reached towards it and winced. When she tried to pick it up, it slipped and hit the floor. She grabbed a piece of the ragged glass and tore at the bandages.
Turning her back towards the mirror, she caught sight of the s***h marks decorating her skin. Some were bluish, old wounds that had never healed. Others were fresh, gasping, bleeding gashes. She tugged slowly at the bandage, but it clung stubbornly to the largest wound. Still, she knew she had to hurry. By the time day broke, she would be expected to clean the throne room and then go to the market to fetch supplies for King Alpha’s arrival. She already had Alpha Alexander on her case; she couldn’t afford another tormentor—least of all the King Alpha himself. The death she had been desperately praying for might come sooner than she planned.
As soon as she stepped out of her room—well, it wasn’t really a room, more like a basement—she went to the store area to gather cleaning supplies for the throne room.
As she stepped in, she overheard some of the omegas talking.
“If there’s no storm on the way, the Alpha King will be arriving this evening,” one of the omegas, Seraphina, said, twirling her hair softly.
“This is the first time the Alpha King will honour the Alpha’s invitation. He has never replied before, but this time, he decided to,” another girl replied.
“Since I heard he was coming, I’ve been creating scenarios in my head,” Seraphina said dreamily. “That he’ll see me and feel the mating bond.”
“Let me shatter your dreams—he already has a fiancée, and she’ll be accompanying him when he arrives.”
“Fiancée doesn’t necessarily mean mate,” Seraphina countered. “He may have put her there just to keep the seat warm until he finds his true mate. What do you think?”
“What I think,” the girl said, “is that for the Alpha King to have chosen her, it must mean he really likes her. Not even likes—I dare say love. Nobody can pressure the Alpha King to pick Luna. And besides, she has been his fiancée for two years now, yet there has been no ceremony declaring her Queen. So the position is still very much open.”
