Chapter Three: Mira
1318 Words
(9 years ago)
Nyla's POV
“Annnn…” he calls out again, this time his voice is louder.
I let out a soft breath. I freeze, not sure if I should answer.
Then I remember I told Alpha Rowan my name is Ann.
“…Yes?” I finally whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Here you are, I was about to come to your room. Sit down. Join us, let’s eat,” Alpha Rowan says, pulling out a chair for me at the dining table with his family.
“I didn’t know what you would like, so I asked the chef to prepare different dishes. I hope you find one that suits your taste.”
I give a small, polite smile. “Good morning,” I greet, sliding into the chair.
“Good morning, my dear,” he responds. His wife and daughter keep staring at me. I lower my gaze and fix my attention on the food in front of me.
Alpha Rowan is a kind man. He reminds me so much of my father—the way he treats everyone with so much kindness.
And that kindness is what got him killed.
I am determined to be different.
“I forgot to ask you yesterday—what is your rank?” he asks.
“Are you an Alpha, Beta, or Omega?”
The question makes me freeze for a moment. I take a shaky breath and straighten my shoulders.
“O… Omega,” I stammer, swallowing hard. My throat feels dry, and my hands clench at my sides.
“Okay, no problem. Your task will be assigned after breakfast, or do you have something specific you’d like to learn?”
I look up, steady and resolved.
“I want to learn military strategy and how to win a war,” I say.
The room falls silent.
All eyes turn to me, shock written clearly across their faces.
“military strategy…?” Elena scoffs.
“Isn't that absurd for an Omega to learn? Unless there is something you aren't telling us,” Luna Elizabeth adds, a mocking grin on her face.
“Omegas belong as servants not leading packs or learning military strategies.”
That word strikes me hard.
I freeze, my feet rooted to the floor as I lower my gaze, the pain of defeat burning through my chest.
I expected too much.
I thought the rest of the family would be as accommodating as Alpha Rowan, but no—they are different.
Yes, Omegas don’t lead packs. But that doesn’t mean they can’t have a life outside their daily duties.
In my pack, every member has obligations, but interests and abilities are always considered.
Here, it’s nothing but strict hierarchy.
“You. Come here.”
She motions with her fingers, signaling the command.
I rise from my seat and walk toward her slowly and cautiously.
My heart races. My hands tremble.
I grab the sides of my dress, fingers digging into the fabric as I force myself forward.
“Closer…”
“Turn around,” she instructs, twirling her hand in the air.
Her gaze sweeps over me from head to toe, her eyes narrowing with judgment.
“You look fragile. You won’t last a day in the laundry house. Start from the kitchen for now. That should help you build some stamina.”
“Ma…?” The word slips out before I can stop it.
“I—” I try to protest.
“Are you talking back to my mum?” Elena snaps, her voice snapping me back to reality.
I’m not in my pack anymore. I don’t have a say here.
If I want to survive, I have to obey without any objections.
“Can we all calm down and eat?” Alpha Rowan’s voice cuts through the tension, firm and commanding.
“Dad—”
“Shhh. Shut it, Elena.”
“Ann, come. Sit here. Let’s have breakfast,” he orders, anger edging into his tone.
“So you’ll gladly watch an outsider disrespect me and refuse to caution her?” Luna Elizabeth snaps.
“Rowan, I’m talking to you!” her voice quivers, heavy with anger.
“Are you ignoring me now? You know what—I’ve lost my appetite.” She drags her chair back and storms out.
“Me too.” Elena snaps, dragging her feet as she follows her.
I remain seated, silent, painfully aware of the chaos in this house—and of my place at its center.
---
Days blur into weeks. Weeks into years.
I grew used to the humiliation, the abuse, the needless cruelty from Elena and her mother. It never dulls my purpose. My revenge is always there, quietly unfolding.
I am turning eighteen this year.
That means I will finally get my wolf.
I’ve heard stories—how finding one’s wolf makes you whole, stronger, complete.
Excitement shivers through me.
Something good, at last.
Someone who will be mine. Someone to comfort me. Someone who will understand.
I tidy the kitchen, humming softly, lost in my thoughts—unaware that Elena has entered.
When I turn, my gaze meets hers.
My breath catches.
The plate slips from my trembling hands and shatters against the floor.
Panic surges through me.
I drop to my knees, heart racing as I scramble to gather the broken pieces.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” I plead, hands shaking.
“Will your sorry fix that?” she barks, her face twisted with disdain.
She turns and walks away.
Relief floods me. I think it’s over.
But, I’m wrong.
Two men storm into the kitchen, each grabbing me by the arms. I struggle, but I’m no match for them.
Then I see her.
Elena.
“Make sure you teach her a lesson, clumsy fool,” she spits.
A sharp blow lands across my face. Pain explodes, blood trickling down my skin.
I fight back, but another strike comes—hard enough that I taste the metallic tang of blood l in my mouth.
Elena watches, chin lifted, a smirk curling on her lips as if she’s enjoying every second.
I never understand why she is so cruel to me.
At first, I thought it’s jealousy. Then I think I’m simply not enough.
But the truth is …. It's because she can.
Because she knows she can.
And she enjoys it.
I do everything to avoid her. I stay away from her father. I reject the offer to live in the main house. I insist on staying in the Omega quarters.
I do my duties—on time, without complaint.
It’s never enough.
What else am I supposed to do?
I weep softly, eyes squeezed shut as tears slide endlessly down my face.
When will this suffering end?
“Alpha, she isn’t responding. What should we do?” one of them asks, panic creeping into his voice.
“Leave her there. She’ll be fine by morning.”
Their footsteps fade.
Sand presses against my skin as I lie there, broken. My bones ache. My flesh burns. Blood seeps from countless wounds, warm and sticky against the cold ground.
I try to move.
Excruciating pain tore through me.
Still, I crawl.
I drag myself forward, inch by inch. The floor scrapes my torn skin, my blood leaving a trail behind me—an open invitation for them to come back and finish what they started.
I keep going.
Slow. Shaking.
Until I reach my room.
My body collapses onto the floor.
Tears spill freely, burning as they slide over bruised skin and open wounds.
“I’m sorry, Nyla.”A voice says, each word comes slowly, barely above a whisper, heavy with sorrow.
I force my eyes open.
“Who are you…?” I whisper weakly.
“It’s me. Mira. Your wolf.”
“My wolf…?” I let out a soft breath.
And everything fades to black.
- Writer
