Only Broken

Another Blessing

Silence is a beautiful thing. That peaceful, calming stillness can feel a little eerie sometimes—but thank the heavens for this crunchy cereal.

I keep chewing in the dark, relishing the quiet, until the kitchen light suddenly flicks on. I freeze like a deer in headlights, spoon midair.

Christopher stands in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes still half-lidded. He stares at me, confused, then lets out a soft chuckle.

“Shut up,” I mutter, stuffing a spoonful of cereal into my mouth before he can say anything else.

He just smirks and walks past me to the fridge.

I love these early morning wake-up calls. The kitchen’s peaceful before the maids start bustling around, prepping meals for what feels like a small army—because honestly, that’s what living in the pack house is like.

And of course, I get to indulge in my forbidden cereal. Malia, my stepmom, insists I stop eating light breakfasts. Something about werewolves burning more calories than humans and needing proper fuel. But she’s not here right now.

The pack house is a mansion where I live with my biological dad and his family—who are now mine too. Other pack members live here as well, especially the stronger wolves and a few omegas who help run the house. It’s like a mini-castle, always busy, everyone playing a role to keep the pack going.

Despite being considered one of the smallest, the Red Moon pack feels anything but small. There’s always a new face, someone to meet, someone to remember.

Chris grabs a tiny cup of ice cream and joins me at the island.

“Mom would lose it if she saw us right now,” he says, amused.

He’s right. Malia radiates this serious maternal energy. I guess it comes with being Luna—mother of the pack.

It wasn’t hard for her to start mothering me too, even though I’ve never actually called her “mom.” It’s been three years, and she tries, I’ll admit that... but I don’t know. I haven’t said it.

“You’re still down for the fundraiser after school, right?” Chris asks, scooping some ice cream.

I nod, still chewing. Silence settles again, the good kind.

I finish my cereal, then glance at him. He rolls his eyes playfully and slides the cup between us to share.

I honestly don’t know how we got this close.

After finishing the ice cream, we head upstairs to our rooms on the top floor—the Alpha family’s private space.

I had protested when they first moved me in. I wanted to stay on the ground floor with the maids, but Peter and Malia wouldn’t hear of it. Peter—my biological father and the Alpha—insisted I be treated as his daughter. As the Alpha’s daughter.

Werewolf packs have a strict hierarchy. People are ranked by strength, dominance, and role in keeping the pack running.

At the top is the Alpha—our leader. The strongest wolf, the one born to command. They make the big calls: territory, alliances, battle strategies. Leadership is passed down by blood, which means Christopher, standing beside me, is next in line.

Then there’s the Luna—Malia. She’s the Alpha’s partner and mate, the emotional heart of the pack. Her role is less about orders and more about nurturing, support, and guidance. That’s probably why she slipped into the mother role so easily with me.

Everyone lower in rank bows to them out of respect. It’s not just tradition—it’s instinct.

Next is the Beta, James’ dad. He’s the second-in-command. Loyal, calm, a mediator. He backs up the Alpha and steps in if the Alpha’s unavailable.

Then we have the Gamma—Gamma Michael, Liam’s dad. Third in command. The Gamma of every pack is like the strongest warrior. That puts him in charge of the warriors, as well as being responsible for both defense and offense. He trains us, leads combat, and oversees all battle formations.

There are also healers, who handle spiritual and physical health, and trackers, like Leo, who are the pack’s eyes and ears beyond the borders.

Omegas are ranked the lowest. They’re usually the weakest wolves, so they work around the pack house or help with other day-to-day duties.

If you're strong, you become a warrior—or, with the right training, a tracker. Healers are born with their powers.

The elevator doors open, and we both freeze at the face staring at us.

"Mom," Chris panics, getting off the lift, and I follow.

"Where did you two go?" She places her hands on her hips, and I swallow. We're definitely going to get caught, especially when she stares at Chris with her piercing brown eyes.

"Uhh... early morning—"

"Walk. We went for an early morning walk," I cut in before he can rat us out.

"Isn't it too early for that? Besides, you both have school in three hours." She looks at us, concerned, and I exhale in relief.

"You're also having trouble sleeping?" Chris asks, and she nods.

"Yeah, I have that meeting with the witches in place of your dad, but hopefully it won't take long."

Chris suddenly yawns. "Well, we couldn’t sleep, but the walking definitely did a number on us because we’re both tired now," he adds, and she nods.

"Okay, off to bed then. I'll see you in the morning."

"Bye, Mom." Chris walks off, and I stand there for a moment, taking it all in, until I realize Malia is staring at me.

"Yeah... I'm off too." I awkwardly turn to leave.

"Sam, wait a minute," she calls, and I slowly turn back with my brows knitted.

Am I in trouble?

"Uhh... how are you doing? How’s training?" she asks out of the blue, and I have to recover quick.

"Umm... training is good. Everything is... fine." I awkwardly tap my feet, waiting for the conversation to end.

"What about your father? Does he call you?" I stare at her for a moment, seeing how awkward this is for her. I’m not her daughter after all — I’m her husband’s cheating result.

"Yeah, he does, but I’m tired now, so I’m gonna—"

"Yeah, sure," she nods, and I quickly turn and leave.

She’s trying, like always, but I can tell this isn’t easy for her.

My purple-and-white-themed sanctuary greets me like an old friend. I toss myself face-first onto the bed.

School ends and I head to my locker to drop off my calculus book and grab my literature notes.

The hallway is buzzing—everyone’s hyped about the carnival in town. I guess the whole school’s going.

I shut my locker and nearly bump into a dark-skinned, black-haired whirlwind of chaos—Trina. My best friend. Also, a banned witch.

“How was your weekend?” she grins, her usual excitement lighting up her face.

“Terrible, Trina. It’s always terrible.”

She laughs as we fall into step toward the parking lot.

“I bet it would’ve been better if you had just—”

“No. You got yourself banned from the pack house. Don’t drag me into it.”

She groans dramatically. “Come on. I love spending the weekend with you. Just put in a good word for me.”

I laugh. Her determination never dies.

“Witches aren’t allowed on our territory,” James cuts in. We turn to find him walking toward us with Chris.

“Oh, come on, guys.”

Chris steps forward. “James is right. Our dad only allowed you because of your friendship with Sam.”

“And you still managed to get yourself banned,” James adds, grinning.

We all chuckle, even Trina.

The Red Moon pack has a long-standing alliance with the witches. History says we got here first, but we share the town with them. In return, they protect us—from hunters and from the humans who live alongside us.

They keep us hidden. Thanks to them, the supernatural world stays secret.

Only one human family though—the town’s co-founders—knows about us. They work closely with the Alpha to keep everything peaceful and under control.

“It was just one little fight,” Trina mutters.

We all stare at her.

“Okay, fine... keep your stupid pack house and your half-naked bodies during training,” she grumbles, heading toward her car.

The guys burst into laughter as I facepalm, overcome with secondhand embarrassment.

Still... another blessing in my chaotic life.