Claimed by Wolf King

The Girl Without a Wolf

Ava had learned early on, even before she understood what cruelty really meant, that staying quiet was a lot safer than trying to defend herself.

She was on her hands and knees on the cold kitchen floor, long before the sun came up, scrubbing between the white tiles with a stiff brush while the rest of the Marlow family was still sound asleep upstairs. The whole room already smelled amazing, like fresh bread and coffee. Breakfast was ready, covered up on the dining table, the laundry was all folded, and the silverware sparkled so much Ava could see her own tired face in every single spoon. But she knew Vivian would still find something to complain about.

There was a bruise blooming on Ava’s wrist, hidden under the sleeve of her worn-out sweater. Another one was making its mark on her ribs, a reminder from Charles Marlow who’d hit her last night for being late getting back from her shift at the pack clinic. She’d spent the afternoon trying to help an old wolf whose fever just wouldn't break, but explanations never seemed to matter in this house. To Charles, being a minute late was the same as outright disobedience, and disobedience always meant punishment.

“Ava!”

Vivian’s voice echoed down the hallway, sharp enough to make Ava’s grip tighten on the brush.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Ava called back.

Vivian walked in, wrapped in a pale silk robe, her dark hair already perfectly styled. She scanned the spotless room with a look of disappointment, like she was searching for any tiny flaw to get angry about.

“Why isn’t breakfast on the table yet?”

Ava glanced at the clock. “It’s all ready. I just wanted to finish the floor before everyone came down.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Vivian said, stopping beside the bucket and looking down at Ava. “Does every simple thing have to be a fight with you?”

“No, Mrs. Marlow.”

Vivian insisted on the formal title when they were alone. In public, though, she loved to talk about the kind orphan she and her husband had taken in from the pack boundary twenty-two years ago. She really enjoyed the praise for her generosity. Nobody outside this house knew that Ava slept in the attic, ate leftovers, and worked at the clinic for free because Charles pocketed all her wages from the pack.

“Get up,” Vivian ordered. “You’ll need to fix that gray dress before tonight.”

Ava slowly got to her feet, trying her best not to wince from the pain in her side. “What’s happening tonight?”

Vivian’s expression suddenly became more intense. “The Wolf King is coming to Ashbourne.”

The brush slipped from Ava’s wet fingers and clattered against the tiles.

Every wolf in the western territories knew Ethan Knight’s name. He was the youngest leader the High Council had ever appointed and an Alpha so powerful he’d managed to bring peace between rival packs after decades of fighting. Some people said he was honorable. Others called him ruthless. But everyone agreed on one thing: you only got to challenge the Wolf King once.

Ava quickly bent down to grab the brush. “Why is he coming here?”

“That’s none of your business.” Vivian’s mouth quirked into a satisfied smile. “Alpha Carter is throwing a party at his estate, and every single unmarried woman of age has been ordered to show up.”

Ava looked up before she could even stop herself. “That can’t possibly include me.”

The slap sent her face spinning to the side.

A burning heat spread across her cheek as the kitchen fell silent. Vivian hadn’t hit hard enough to leave a visible mark, but that wasn't the point. She preferred the kind of reminders that could be hidden under makeup and long sleeves.

“You will go because the Alpha commanded it,” Vivian said, her voice low and steady. “You will stand behind Liana, keep your eyes down, and make absolutely sure no one thinks you’re her equal.”

Ava touched her stinging cheek. “Yes, Mrs. Marlow.”

Liana was everything the pack admired. Beautiful, wealthy, and blessed with a powerful silver wolf, she’d completed her first shift before her seventeenth birthday, celebrated by the whole territory under a full moon. Ava had entered the same sacred clearing a year later and waited until dawn for a wolf that never appeared.

Nothing answered her call.

No voice whispered in her mind. Her bones didn’t shift. No animal spirit stirred beneath her skin.

By morning, the whispers had already started. By the end of the week, everyone in Ashbourne knew to call her wolfless.

Vivian stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Cover your arms tonight. I will not have you answering questions about those bruises.”

Before Ava could reply, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Charles entered the dining room, a newspaper tucked under his arm, followed by Liana, who was already dressed in an expensive cream sweater and fitted pants. Ava carried the breakfast dishes to the table and set them down. There was no plate for a fourth person.

Liana glanced at Ava’s clothes and let out a laugh. “Please tell me you’re not planning to show up in front of the Wolf King dressed like that.”

“I’m wearing the gray dress,” Ava replied, pouring Charles’s coffee.

“The one Aunt Celeste died in?” Liana asked, wrinkling her nose. “How… fitting.”

Charles lowered his newspaper. “It belonged to my sister before she got sick. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“The sleeve is torn,” Ava said quietly. “I’ll need a little time to fix it before—”

His hand clamped down on her forearm before she could finish. Coffee sloshed across the table as he twisted her arm, pressing his thumb into yesterday’s bruise.

“When I tell you to wear something, you don’t argue about it.”

Ava struggled to keep her voice even. “I wasn’t arguing. I just meant it needs to be sewn.”

“Then sew it.”

Vivian dabbed at the spilled coffee with her napkin, looking more annoyed by the stain than by her husband’s rough grip. Liana watched with a slight smile, making no effort to hide her amusement.

Charles released Ava with enough force that she stumbled back against the sideboard. A porcelain plate slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

His expression hardened. “Look at what you’ve done.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You always are.” He leaned back in his chair. “We’ve fed you, housed you, and given you our name, and you still find new ways to embarrass us. You should be thankful anyone even took in a child abandoned by her own parents.”

Ava lowered her eyes until the burning sensation behind them finally subsided. She had no memories of her real family, just fragmented dreams that Vivian dismissed as childish fantasies: a woman singing by dark water, silver hair catching the wind, and a warm hand pressing a pendant against Ava’s chest.

“I’ll clean it up,” she whispered.

She got down beside the broken porcelain and started gathering the pieces. One sharp edge sliced across her palm. Blood welled up instantly, a stark contrast against her pale skin, but before she could even reach for a cloth, the cut began to heal itself.

Ava froze.

Her skin knitted together with a faint silver glow, leaving behind only a thin pink line where the wound had been. She gasped, clenching her fingers into a fist, and quickly glanced toward the table.

No one had noticed. Vivian was complaining about the coffee, Charles had buried himself back in his newspaper, and Liana was busy typing on her phone.

Ava carefully hid the broken piece of porcelain in her apron pocket and finished cleaning before retreating to the attic.

Her room was tucked away in the smallest corner under the roof. Winter winds found their way through the gaps around the single window, and the ceiling slanted so low near the bed that she’d learned to duck whenever she stood up. A narrow wardrobe held three dresses, two sweaters, and the clinic uniform she'd bought secondhand.

The gray dress hung at the back, covered in a layer of dust. Ava spread it out on the bed and examined the torn sleeve. The fabric was old, but still elegant, and with a bit of careful stitching, it might just hold up for the evening.

She had barely managed to thread her needle when the door creaked open without a warning.

Liana walked in, looking around with obvious disdain. “I honestly don’t know how you can sleep in here.”

Ava kept sewing. “What do you want?”

Liana raised her eyebrows. “Careful. Spending all day with sick wolves seems to have made you forget your place.”

“My place is apparently fixing up a dead woman’s dress so your family can parade me around tonight.”

For a fleeting moment, surprise flickered across Liana’s face. Then her gaze landed on the silver pendant resting beside Ava’s bed.

It was the only thing found with Ava when she was an infant. The small, crescent-shaped stone had never tarnished, and no jeweler had ever been able to identify the metal it was set in.

Liana picked it up. “You still keep this ugly thing?”

Ava put the dress aside. “Give it back.”

“Why? Do you think your real mother is going to show up one day and recognize you by it?”

“They’re dead.”

“Or they saw what you were and decided to get rid of you.” Liana held the pendant just out of Ava’s reach. “Even your own parents didn’t want a defective child.”

Ava stood up. “Give it back, Liana.”

“Make me.”

Years of humiliation surged up inside Ava all at once: the cruel laughter after her failed shift, Charles’s fists, Vivian’s constant contempt, and every night she’d cried silently, terrified someone might hear. She reached for the pendant and grabbed Liana’s wrist.

A bone-chilling cold flooded the room.

Silver light surged beneath Ava’s skin and spilled out onto Liana’s arm. Her sister screamed as an unseen force hurled her backward into the wardrobe, ripping one of the doors off its hinges. The pendant clattered to the floor as every object in the room began to tremble.

Ava stared at her glowing hand, unable to draw a full breath.

The light vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Liana pushed herself up, her face completely drained of color. “What did you do to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Liana’s voice was sharp with fear. “Wolfless girls can’t do that.”

A deep howl sounded from beyond the window just before Ava could answer.

Another followed, then dozens more, echoing across Ashbourne until the entire pack joined in the chorus. The sound carried no joy, no fear, just a primal response to an authority so powerful it demanded recognition without a single word.

Liana stumbled toward the window. “He’s here.”

A line of black vehicles moved along the road below, flanked by the Alpha’s guards. Pack members emerged from their homes, bowing their heads as the first SUV approached the estate.

The pressure Ava felt beneath her ribs returned with sudden intensity. She gripped the windowsill, heat spreading through her veins, stronger than anything she had ever experienced.

Inside the lead vehicle, something answered her.

Not a voice.

A presence.

Ancient, potent, and undeniably alive.

For the first time in twenty-two years, Ava heard a wolf growl inside her mind.