Ashes of the Crescent Moon

"You're worthless. You know that, right?" The words hit me before the fist does. I see it coming—I always see it coming now—but I don't move. Moving makes it worse. Alpha Marcus, my father, hits harder when you try to dodge. His knuckles connect with my cheek, and pain explodes across my face. I taste copper. Blood. Again. "Answer me when I speak to you!" He grabs my hair, yanking my head back. His eyes are the same green as mine, but his are full of hate. Mine are just full of tears I won't let fall. "I understand, Alpha," I whisper. Never Father. Never Dad. Just Alpha. That's all he's ever been to me. He shoves me away, and I stumble against the kitchen counter. The pack house is quiet this early. Dawn hasn't broken yet. Nobody else is awake to see this. They never are. "You killed him." His voice drops low, dangerous. "You killed my son. You took my heir, and you're still breathing. That's the real crime." I've heard this speech a thousand times. Maybe more. Eighteen years of it, actually. Ever since the night I was born—the night my twin brother died. "Clean this place before everyone wakes up. If breakfast isn't perfect, I'll make sure you regret it." He storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. I wait until I can't hear him anymore. Then I let out the breath I was holding. My hands shake as I touch my face. The bruise will heal fast—I'm a werewolf, after all. We heal quick. But there's always another bruise to replace it. I look at my reflection in the glass cabinet. Mousey brown hair that never looks quite right. Hazel eyes that change between green and gold. I'm small—way smaller than other girls my age. Probably because I only eat scraps, whatever the pack leaves behind. "Happy birthday to me," I whisper to my reflection. I'm eighteen today. For normal wolves, this would be special. This is when we can find our mates, when the Moon Goddess might bless us with someone who's meant to be ours forever. But I gave up on that dream years ago. Who would want me? I'm the girl who killed her brother. The cursed one. The monster. I shake my head and get to work. I need to clean before anyone wakes up. But first—first, I need my run. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. Every morning, before the sun rises, I shift and run through the forest. Nobody knows I can shift. I first did it when I was thirteen, which is super young for a wolf. Most don't shift until sixteen. That night, Father broke my arm in two places. I was alone in my room, crying, when I felt her—my wolf. She woke up because I needed her, because I was hurting so bad I wanted to die. Shifting hurt worse than the broken arm at first. Every bone had to break and reform. My jaw stretched, my fingers became claws, fur pushed through my skin. But after that first time, it got easier. Now it's almost peaceful. I sneak out the back door of the pack house. The morning air is cold, crisp. Winter's coming to Crescent Ridge territory. I can smell snow on the wind. Our pack lives in northern Washington, right at the base of the mountains. The forest is thick with pine trees, and in the distance, I can see snow-capped peaks turning pink with the sunrise. I strip off my clothes and hide them under a bush. Then I shift. My wolf is small, like me. Brown fur, not sleek and beautiful like other she-wolves. But she's fast, and she's mine, and when I'm her, nobody can hurt me. We run. Through the trees, over fallen logs, jumping across streams. The world blurs around us. All I can smell is pine and earth and freedom. We find our spot—a clearing by the river. I shift back to human and sit on the rocky bank, dipping my toes in the freezing water. This is my favorite place in the whole world. Nobody knows about it. It's just mine. A bird calls overhead. The sun is rising, painting everything gold. For just a few minutes, I can pretend I'm someone else. Someone who matters. Someone who's loved. But I know I have to go back. They'll be waking up soon, expecting breakfast. Expecting me to serve them like the slave I am. I shift again and run back. By the time I'm in the pack house kitchen, I'm sweating and my heart is pounding, but I feel a little more alive. I make coffee first. Father likes his black. Mother—Luna Victoria—takes cream. I know exactly how everyone likes everything. I've been serving them since I was old enough to carry a plate. The bacon is sizzling when I hear footsteps. My whole body tenses. "Well, well. The birthday girl." I don't look up. I know that voice. Eliza Norton, the Beta's daughter. She's beautiful—long blonde hair, perfect figure, blue eyes that every male wolf notices. She's also cruel in ways that make my father look kind. "Shouldn't you be in your room, Eliza?" I ask quietly, flipping the bacon. "I can go wherever I want." She moves closer. I can smell her expensive perfume. "I was just thinking... eighteen years ago, you murdered your brother. And now here you are, still alive, still taking up space. Funny how that works." My jaw clenches. I don't respond. Responding makes it worse. "Nothing to say? That's smart. You should just keep your mouth shut forever. Maybe then people could forget you exist." She laughs and walks away. I hear her join others in the dining room. The pack is waking up. Alpha warriors, pack leaders, my mother. All of them waiting for me to serve them. I load up plates of food and carry them out. Nobody looks at me. I'm invisible unless they want to hurt me. Father sits at the head of the table, talking to Beta Thomas about border patrols. Mother is discussing some pack event with other she-wolves. Everyone's excited about something. "We're hosting the Harvest Moon Gathering," Father announces. "Packs from all over will come here. This is important for our reputation." The Harvest Moon Gathering. It's like a big party where packs meet, wolves find mates, alliances are made. We've never hosted it before. "The Blue Mountain Pack is confirmed," Beta Thomas says. "Alpha Kieran himself is coming." The name makes several wolves react. I've heard stories about Alpha Kieran. He's young—only twenty-four—but he's one of the strongest Alphas in the territory. His pack is huge, powerful, feared. He's supposedly ruthless, cold, shows no mercy. "Make sure everything is perfect," Father says, and his eyes cut to me. "Every single detail." I nod, keeping my head down. But my stomach knots with fear. More wolves mean more chances to mess up. More chances to get hurt. After breakfast, I clean up the dishes. My hands are red from hot water when Beta Thomas calls me over. "Mira." He never uses my name. This can't be good. "The guest rooms need to be prepared. Clean sheets, fresh towels. And the meeting hall needs to be spotless. Can your tiny brain handle that?" "Yes, Beta," I whisper. He grunts and waves me away like I'm a bug. I spend the whole day cleaning. Room after room, scrubbing floors, changing sheets, polishing windows. My back aches. My hands are raw. But I don't stop. Can't stop. By evening, I'm exhausted. But there's still dinner to prepare. I'm in the kitchen when I hear it—raised voices. Father, angry about something. I freeze, listening. "They're arriving early? Tomorrow?" Beta Thomas sounds stressed. "Yes, Alpha. Alpha Kieran sent word. He'll be here tomorrow evening instead of next week." "Dammit." Father slams something. "Is everything ready?" "It will be." I hear footsteps heading toward the kitchen and panic. I grab a pan, pretending to be busy cooking. Father storms in, Mother right behind him. They see me and both their faces twist with disgust. "You," Father snarls. "Tomorrow, you stay out of sight. Completely out of sight. If Alpha Kieran sees you, if you embarrass this pack, I will kill you. Do you understand?" "Yes, Alpha." My voice barely works. "You're an embarrassment," Mother adds. Her voice is cold, elegant. She's beautiful, tall and strong with red hair like my sister Ruby. "You've been an embarrassment since the day you murdered my son." The words cut deeper than any fist. They always do. Because how do I defend myself against something that happened when I was born? How do I prove I'm not a monster when everyone's already decided I am? They leave. I finish cooking with tears blurring my vision. At dinner, I serve the pack. Eliza "accidentally" trips me. Hot soup spills down my arm. The burn is instant, agonizing. Everyone laughs. "Clumsy servant," someone mutters. I clean it up, biting my lip so hard I taste blood. I finally retreated to my room. It's not really a room—more like a closet. Just enough space for a thin mattress on the floor and a tiny sink. No window. No light except one bare bulb. I curl up on the mattress and finally let myself cry. Tomorrow, the most powerful Alpha in the territory is coming to my pack. And I've been ordered to stay invisible. But something in my chest—maybe it's hope, maybe it's my wolf—whispers that tomorrow will change everything. I just don't know if it'll change for better or worse.