CHAPTER TEN
1200 Words
CHAPTER TEN
Anna’s POV
When I got home, I found my mom in the kitchen, busy with dinner.
I frowned.
Wasn’t she supposed to still be at work? It was too early for her to be back.
A quiet unease settled in my chest.
I just hoped she hadn’t heard about what happened earlier. I didn’t want her worrying about me… not when things were already this bad.
“Hi, Mom,” I said softly.
She turned, her hands dripping with water as she rinsed a green pepper.
“Sweetie, you’re home.”
“Yeah…”
My eyes stayed on her.
“Shouldn’t you be at the store?”
For a split second—just a second—her smile faltered.
But I saw it.
And that was enough.
“They fired you again… didn’t they?”
My voice came out tighter than I intended.
She opened her mouth, probably to deny it—but then she looked at me properly and stopped.
A slow nod.
Something inside me snapped.
Of course they did.
Those self-righteous, arrogant werewolves—walking around like they were gods, like humans were nothing but dirt beneath their feet.
Yes, the king had given humans some rights.
But rights meant nothing when no one respected them.
They tolerated us.
Barely.
And even that felt like charity to them.
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.
I had really thought this time would be different.
Mrs. Carmina had seemed kind. Not like the others.
Not like the previous shop owners who treated my mom like she was less than human—making her work endlessly, speaking to her like she was something filthy.
But Mrs. Carmina had smiled at us. Treated us normally.
Or at least… I thought she did.
“What did they accuse you of this time?” I asked, moving closer to help her.
There was always something.
Too slow.
Too clumsy.
Excuses.
Because my mom was neither.
She was the hardest-working person I knew. She didn’t even pause to rest, didn’t complain, didn’t slack.
She worked harder than most werewolves.
Mom sighed quietly. She dropped the pepper into the sink and walked to the dining chair, lowering herself into it like the weight of the day had finally caught up with her.
I moved behind her, gently massaging her shoulders.
“It’s worse this time,” she said.
My hands stilled for a second… then continued.
“Mrs. Carmina saw her husband making advances at me,” she continued. “She misunderstood it… thought I was the one seducing him.”
My chest went cold.
“She made a scene. And then she fired me.”
“What?!”
The word tore out of me before I could stop it.
Of all the things I imagined—this wasn’t one of them.
I tried to picture Mr. Carmina—the always smiling, polite man—
My stomach twisted.
Disgusting.
My mom was beautiful. Anyone could see that.
And maybe that was the problem.
If she wasn’t human… if she wasn’t seen as beneath them… she would’ve had respect instead of this.
Instead, men like him thought they could do whatever they wanted.
“Did she hit you?” I asked, my voice dropping.
My hands had already stopped moving.
Mom shook her head lightly.
“No. She didn’t. She even paid me everything she owed.”
She smiled.
But it didn’t reach her eyes.
And I knew—
That wasn’t the full story.
Still… I didn’t push.
Because I could already feel the guilt creeping in.
Heavy. Suffocating.
If only I was stronger.
If only I wasn’t so… useless.
If only I could be like Freya.
Mom leaned back slightly and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
“It’s okay. Everything will be fine. I’ll find another job.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t believe it.
And then I saw it.
A small cut.
Just inches from her eye.
My chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt.
That could’ve been worse.
So much worse.
She noticed where I was looking and quickly spoke.
“She just got angry… threw a few things. It’s nothing serious. It’ll heal.”
Nothing serious?
My hands curled into fists.
“I don’t blame her,” she added softly. “No woman would easily believe her husband of sixteen years would cheat.”
“Well, she should,” I muttered.
Because believing him instead of the truth didn’t make it right.
Because hurting my mother didn’t make it excusable.
But what could I do?
Nothing.
That was the worst part.
I couldn’t protect her.
Mom smiled again like she always did, like nothing ever touched her.
“Go take a shower. Food will be ready soon.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know,” she said gently. “But your sister will be. She called—she’s pulling another all-night shift. She won’t be back until midnight.”
My brows furrowed.
“Another? Since when? The hospital doesn’t even run all night like that.”
“Anna…” she sang lightly, already turning back to the pot.
“You think too much. Freya is fine. She’s a werewolf—no one is bullying her. And she works under the First Prince now. She has status.”
Something about that didn’t sit right with me.
But I didn’t argue.
I just nodded.
Maybe I really was overthinking.
I kissed her cheek, went upstairs, showered quickly, and came back down.
With the container of chicken soup in my hands, I left for the hospital.
The hospital stood tall and cold under the fading light.
After a few questions, security let me in.
The place was just as busy as always.
Patients everywhere.
Humans. Omegas. Injured werewolves who couldn’t heal fast enough. Pregnant women.
Pain didn’t discriminate here.
Even in a world ruled by strength.
I made my way to the second floor—Freya’s floor.
I knew this place too well.
And yet…
The moment I stepped in, something felt off.
“Doesn’t she have any shame?”
The voice was low—but not low enough.
I froze.
Behind the glass partitions, the senior nurses sat at their desks.
And at the far end—
Freya.
Alone.
Working quietly.
“Why would she?” another voice replied. “Shame doesn’t come with her kind.”
A quiet laugh followed.
“Half-human. Disgusting.”
My blood ran cold.
“She shouldn’t even be here. Working with her is unbearable.”
My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palm.
Freya didn’t react.
Not even a flicker.
She just kept working.
Head down.
Silent.
Like she couldn’t hear them.
But I knew she could.
That was the point.
They wanted her to hear.
Something dark twisted in my chest.
Anger.
Helplessness.
Rage.
I hated this feeling.
Hated standing here and doing nothing.
I needed to be stronger.
Not just for me—
But for them.
For Mom.
For Freya.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
If I became a werewolf—
If there was even one more werewolf in our house—
Maybe things would change.
Maybe people would stop looking at us like we were nothing.
- Writer
