Bound By The Moon's Curse

Chapter Three

Celebration

Arielle's POV

It's been days since I was pulled out of that catacomb. Days since I woke up to the faint, musky scent of Aunt Lilianna’s herbs. She saved me again dragging me back from death like she always does.

But saving me doesn’t mean she cares. No. Aunt Lilianna has her own twisted version of affection. Her kindness is poison-dipped, a double-edged sword that keeps me breathing only to suffer more.

The punishments have doubled. My chores stretch endlessly, and I have no time to rest, no time to think. I can’t even *look* tired, or she’ll remind me just how easily she can throw me out. And where would I go? Nowhere. *Nowhere* wants me.

I dream sometimes stupid, hopeless dreams about what life would be like if I really were a wolf. If I had a mate.

*Stop it*, I scold myself as I scrub at a dirty plate, the soap bubbles stinging the small cuts on my hands. How can I think of a mate when I don’t even have a wolf?

But still… I whisper to myself at night, to the empty space inside me. *Lovett.* That’s the name I chose for her. My wolf. If she’s there if she ever comes I hope she’ll like me. I hope she’ll stay. I just want someone to talk to. To understand me. To not *hate* me.

I’m lost in my thoughts when heavy footsteps approach. Uncle Louis’s presence fills the small kitchen like a storm cloud.

“Arielle,” he snaps, making me flinch. “We’re hosting a feast with the Lock Heart pack tomorrow. Go to the market and get food. Enough to feed everyone.”

He slams a wad of cash onto the table in front of me. I nod quickly, drying my hands on a dirty rag.

“Yes, Uncle.”

I barely finish putting the dishes away before I’m out the door, the creased bills shoved into my pocket.

The second my feet hit the packed dirt outside, I can *feel* their eyes on me. Cold. Hateful. Watching like they always do.

“Unimportant one” someone yells, the voice cracking through the air like a whip.

I pretend not to hear. *Just keep walking,* I tell myself.

“The devil’s daughter,” another voice sneers from my left.

I don’t turn my head. *Keep walking.*

“Psycho,” a girl spits from the right, her words sharp as glass.

It’s always the same. Every day. Every breath I take in this cursed pack is met with disgust and venom. Their voices blend into a dull hum in my ears, like static. But the words still cut, no matter how much I try to ignore them.

I did nothing to deserve this hate. Nothing. But in their eyes, my crime is living. Existing. *Breathing.*

I focus on my feet, counting my steps to distract myself.

“Out of my way, freak.”

I didn’t see the shove coming. One moment I’m walking, and the next I’m sprawled face-faced on the ground. My hands burn from the gravel. Pain shoots through my palms.

I glance up, and there they are Laura and her little gang of friends, grinning like cats who’ve cornered a mouse.

“Trying to ignore us today, Arielle?” Laura sneers, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Reena, her second-in-command, crouches beside me, her face way too close to mine.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Reena mocks.

I didnt answer. I know better than to respond. Replying will only make it worse. If I stay quiet, they’ll get bored eventually.

“Oh, look at her face,” Nita laughs. “So dead. So pathetic.”

Something cold and slimy smacks into my back. I flinch as the disgusting liquid drips down my spine.

“Oops. Slipped,” Nita snickers, holding up an empty carton of sour milk.

My stomach twists, but I didn’t cry. I won’t. I’ve learned not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

The air leaves my lungs in a rush as Reena’s foot connects with my stomach, hitting really hard. The world tilts as I collapse back onto the dirt.

“Useless one!” Laura yells as her foot joins in.

The others follow her lead, laughing as they kick me again and again. I curl in on myself, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to pretend I’m somewhere else.

Anywhere but here.

Eventually, the kicks stop. The laughter fades. When I open my eyes, the girls are gone, leaving me alone in the dirt. My body throbs with pain, and every breath feels like knives slicing into my ribs.

For a long time, I just lie there, staring up at the pale blue sky. It’s almost beautiful, this moment of stillness. I wish I could stay here, weightless and empty, forever.

But I can’t.

A distant sound *dong, dong, dong* pulls me back to reality. I sit up slowly, wincing as fire shoots through my shoulder. The market clock.

*Oh no.*

“Crap!” I gasp, stumbling to my feet.

Uncle Louis is going to kill me. I’m already twenty minutes late.

Ignoring the screaming protests of my body, I force myself to move. I rush through the market stalls, grabbing what I need as quickly as I can. Every step sends shockwaves of pain through my legs and back, but I grit my teeth and push through it.

When I finally have everything, I clutch the bags to my chest and limp home as fast as my battered body will allow.

*Please don’t let Uncle Louis be waiting at the door.*

But deep down, I know better.

As I approach the house, the front door swings open. Uncle Louis stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his face carved from stone.

I stop dead in my tracks, my heart pounding.

“You’re late,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“I ..I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I”

His glare freezes me in place, cutting off my words.

“Get inside,” he orders, his tone making my blood run cold.

I nod quickly and step past him, my hands shaking as I clutch the groceries tighter. I don’t dare look him in the eye.

As I walk inside, I brace myself for whatever comes next. The beating. The shouting. The punish

ment.

This is my life. My fate.

And no matter how much I wish for it to end, I know it won’t.

At least not yet.