Solène Sixth Grade I walked behind my brother and Owen, his inseparable best friend. They strode forward with purpose, not even noticing I was there. If they allowed me to trail after them, it was only because Myreille had demanded it. Myreille, my nanny, had watched over me for as long as I could remember. My father, too preoccupied with his duties as Beta, had tasked her with teaching me to "behave like a refined young lady"—which really meant keeping quiet and knowing my place. In truth, Myreille forced none of that upon me, but in front of my father, I played the part. My brother spent his time with the future leaders of the pack: Caleb and Daley, the future Alphas; Soren, the future Delta; and Owen, the future Gamma. Together, they formed an arrogant little pack, even louder than the most superficial girls in school. Myreille had asked him to make sure I got to school and back safely—especially after the day I came home covered in bruises, sporting a mark under my eye and scrapes down my arm. I had claimed I'd fallen, but Myreille wasn't fooled. She knew I had problems with some of the other students. Our pack operated strictly on rank and dominance. Even at our age, everyone was constantly trying to assert their place. The weaker ones sought the proximity of higher-ranking members, hoping to climb the social ladder. Being friends with the Alphas' children was the absolute pinnacle of prestige. As a future Beta, my brother naturally belonged to that inner circle. I, on the other hand, shared the same blood, yet to most, I was nothing. My mother had died giving birth to me, and to my father, that was a mistake I was still paying for. In his eyes, I was worth no more than an Omega. Myreille knew it. She saw how the other kids treated me. No adult ever intervened. Not even him. "Hurry up, snail, you're blocking the whole path!" Kaïa snickered behind me. Instinctively, I stepped aside to make room for her, but she stuck her foot out. I stumbled, slamming my head against a locker as my books went flying across the floor. The hallway froze. All eyes turned to me. I saw my brother look back. For a split second, our eyes met—but he just shook his head in annoyance and kept walking with Owen and Kaïa, acting like I didn't exist. Laughter broke out around me. No one offered a hand. Seventh Grade "Don't you dare talk back to me in front of the others, got it?!" Kaïa snarled, pinning me against the heavy doors leading to the schoolyard. "I didn't talk back. I just said holding you up is no reason to hit the younger kids." My voice barely trembled. I knew I should stay quiet, but her casual cruelty disgusted me. She had been late once again because she'd skipped class to grab coffee. Now she was just looking for a punching bag to take her frustration out on. I broke free and tried to walk away, but Marnie, her loyal shadow, tripped me. I hit the ground hard, and an icy liquid immediately soaked through my hair. Laughter rang out. A circle formed around me. I lifted my head. My brother and his friends were laughing right along with the rest of them. Kaïa looked down at me, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Maybe you'd fall less if you actually moved and lost some of that baby fat." Then she immediately turned her attention to my brother. "So, boys, bonfire tonight?" And I, sitting there amidst their laughter, wondered if someday someone would see more in me than just the Beta's daughter who was better off forgotten. The Fall of Eighth Grade "Get back here, you dirty slut!" A brunette sprinted past me, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as Jessa—the school's second-string Barbie—chased after her. Jessa stumbled, struggling in her platform shoes. She tried to run in a skirt that was far too short, desperately trying not to flash anyone. Her face was contorted with rage. Two other girls followed them on impossibly high heels, clearly more concerned with looking good than moving fast. I didn't know exactly what had started this. They had just returned from a trip abroad and acted like they were above the rules. The three of them formed the court of favorites: not exactly nice, but not openly relentless bullies either. They wielded their power with a smile. As the Beta's daughter, it had always been my duty to watch over the pack—even if that meant protecting the people I despised. My father might not have loved me, and my older brother was the true future Beta, but I had been taught to view my rank as a duty. At home, image counted more than anything else. I stepped between Jessa and the girl they were chasing, raising my hands to mediate. "Why are you chasing her? What did she do?" I asked. Jessa swayed, her heels betraying her balance. "She gave me a D on the paper!" she hissed. "She was supposed to cover for me—give me a good grade so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of the new teacher. She sabotaged me on purpose." Kaïa—the one who never missed a chance to insult me—shoved me aside as if I were an insignificant obstacle. "This is my business, Solène." Contempt laced her voice as she tried to elbow me out of the way. "You're threatening a kid over this?" I countered. Kaïa let out a mocking laugh. "You're so naive. I'm a warrior. She's an Omega. Inferior. I owe her zero respect." Her mindset made her far more dangerous than her muscles ever could. She preferred destruction over discussion. "Rank doesn't override basic justice," I said, forcing her to look at me. "It's not your job to punish her." I stood firmly in front of her, holding myself as upright as possible—not particularly tall, but fiercely determined. She tried to push past me, but I blocked her path. For someone who called herself a warrior, she lacked a surprising amount of actual skill. "Watch how you talk to your superior," Kaïa hissed icily. "Your father doesn't want you. Neither does your brother. No one wants you. Get lost." She shoved me hard and walked away, Marnie following close behind her. Their usual triangle of intimidation—polished for the rest of the world, but vicious underneath. Her words hit me harder than any physical blow could have. They believed that anyone who couldn't endure their attacks was weak. But every insult left a burn. I blinked, tears stinging my eyes. I took a deep breath and headed home, hoping the Omega girl had managed to escape. Maybe I'd helped her. Or maybe I'd only delayed the inevitable. It was going to be a long year. My plan remained the same: stay under the radar, keep my grades up, and get the hell out of here in a few years. Autumn of Ninth Grade Slam! The pain was sharper than usual. I groaned involuntarily and slid down the metal lockers, teeth clenched, bracing myself to endure whatever came next. "Happy Monday, huh?" I muttered under my breath. "Move, you fat slob," Kaïa hissed, delivering a sharp slap to my face. Blood beaded at the corner of my mouth. It wasn't a particularly hard blow, but her acrylic nails tore at my skin like claws. Laughter rang out all around me, and the dull thud of a heavy shove against the locker explained the sheer force of the impact. This time, she'd gotten one of the boys to hurl me against it.

I didn't look up. Kaïa might have never set foot in a combat ring, but she knew how to inflict pain in other ways—and many were so desperate for her favor they'd do anything just to be accepted. "What have I done, Your Highness?" I muttered sarcastically, hoping to distract her long enough for her current victim to slip away. She didn't bother with a verbal reply, responding only with a dismissive gesture. The people around her were willing to do anything just to stay in her orbit. Her father sat on the school board; he protected her. Nothing had ever gone on her official record. The only proof was the marks on my body, and she knew exactly how to spin the story to make me look weak, like I was just pathetic and slow to heal. Some students had even been punished and transferred away after she pushed things too far; one boy had left our pack entirely and transferred to a neighboring pack's school because he refused to bow to her. We were in the fourth grade at the time. Who even thought about breaking pack loyalty at that age? No one talked about it. The members of her clique simply claimed he needed better care elsewhere. "I was just showing a pup its place for daring to ruin my new shoes in front of everyone," Kaïa said, carelessly kicking her platinum heels aside. She tossed her hair, glaring at me as if I were too stupid to comprehend. It hadn't happened "in front of everyone". It had happened in front of my brother—the future Beta—and his friends, our future Alphas, Gammas, and Deltas: five inseparable boys. Kaïa sought their attention just as desperately as any other high school girl chasing the elite crowd; her lieutenants—Marnie and Jessa—took care of the dirty work. Marnie had bumped into someone, sending a drink splashing all over Kaïa. Kaïa would never admit her part in the setup, and neither would her friends. The boys had simply walked away laughing, completely ignoring the dangerous red flaring in Kaïa's eyes—a clear sign she was about to explode. She rarely showed her true colors in public; her friends were far too attached to their status as her favorites to ever expose her. Those boys ruled the school the exact same way some parents ruled the pack: by feeding off admiration. They had no idea who they really were yet, but they loved being idolized. So Kaïa did everything in her power to remain in their line of sight. I couldn't really blame Kaïa and her clique for losing their minds over the future Alphas. After all, they weren't strangers: they were only a year older than us and had just returned from their summer training. These guys were destined to take over their fathers' roles the second they graduated. For two years now, they had been participating in a brutal training program organized by the Alpha King at a complex on his territory. Every summer, they returned there for a month to toughen up and learn the heavy responsibilities of their ranks. Officially, it was to keep them from slacking off during the holidays, but everyone knew it was primarily to train them and forge ironclad connections among the future leaders of allied packs. I could only imagine the initial chaos: around fifty high-ranking teenagers thrown together to learn combat, strategy, and pack leadership... There had to be some serious friction before things finally settled down. Alphas were prepared to lead: they learned to manage finances, ensure pack cohesion, and defend their borders. Betas were trained to support the Alpha, handling everything that didn't require his direct authority while serving as his right hand. Gammas stood by the Luna's side, sworn to watch over her safety. Finally, Deltas were the leaders of the warriors, responsible for frontline defense and protection. Each of them bore a responsibility far heavier than anyone else could imagine. I assumed the Alpha King organized these training camps to open their eyes to reality: to rip them out of their high school cocoon and show them what a leader's life truly meant. Some handled it better than others. And I also believed the King liked to observe who got along with whom, and who saw each other as rivals. Seeing them without their parents present allowed him to quickly map out alliances and simmering tensions. Despite all his vigilance, there were always ambitious leaders willing to do anything to climb the hierarchy: arranged marriages, forced alliances, political manipulation... Some parents even went so far as to choose mates for their children just to strengthen their own political standing. The Alpha Kings around the world were connected to the Moon Goddess through their Lunas—the queens. Together, they formed the highest council of werewolves. They intervened only when a conflict grew too large to be resolved locally. When the boys came back this year, they looked as if they had evolved into a different species entirely. They had suddenly shot up, packing on thick muscle, and their very posture had shifted into something dominant. They had been handsome before—even my brother—but now they looked like men, real men. They were all about six feet tall or taller, with shoulders broad enough to block an entire doorway. Their auras had intensified, too. You could feel the heavy weight of their presence the second they stepped into a room. That energy served to assert their dominance, command obedience, and sometimes... to attract. A wolf instinctively sought a strong mate for reproduction. The higher the rank, the greater the power. Naturally, every girl in the pack had noticed the change. Some literally threw themselves at the boys. My brother, at least, hadn't held back. Since their return, he had been going out with a different girl every night. Sometimes I heard noises in the house late at night, and I preferred not to imagine what was happening. It was a bit gross, but I knew he wasn't the only one. At school, hooking up had become a sort of sport. The janitor's closet was used more often for secret trysts than for storing actual supplies. Apparently, everyone was finding exactly what they wanted. Whenever I thought about it, it just made me sad. We all had a fated mate, chosen specifically by the Moon Goddess. I didn't understand how people could play around with something so sacred. Imagine falling in love with someone who wasn't yours, only to be tossed aside the second their true mate bond snapped into place. I'd seen it happen to several people here—it destroyed them. Some still chose to mark and mate with a "suitable" partner just to strengthen their bloodlines, but I believed the Goddess knew what she was doing. We were stronger when she decided for us. I was still waiting for mine. "Are you even listening to me, damn it?!" Kaïa's sharp voice brutally yanked me from my thoughts. I blinked, staring at her for a moment before answering. "Not really," I said, keeping my voice perfectly calm. "Leave the younger pups alone, they haven't done anything. And stop throwing a fit over a pair of shoes: they don't care what brand you're wearing, and your clumsy friend almost trampled them—not the other way around." She didn't like that remark at all. Her hand shot out in a flash. A sharp crack echoed as her palm connected with my cheek, leaving the metallic tang of blood on my lip. Perfect. That meant a few more hours of having to hide at home until the mark faded. Fortunately, my wounds healed faster now that I had awakened my wolf. Last year, I'd had to invent a thousand different excuses to hide the bruises Kaïa and her friends left on me. My father hadn't noticed a thing when I went through my first shift, but he'd immediately spotted the bruises on my arms after one of their attacks. The day he noticed them, there was a pack ceremony scheduled with the Alpha. I had been wearing a short-sleeved dress, and he hadn't liked the image it projected of him: the Beta whose daughter got into petty brawls. He hadn't been worried about me, only about his reputation. He had grounded me, forcing me to stay locked in my room until the bruises completely faded. I didn't think he hated me... at least, I hoped he didn't. But I knew he blamed me for my mother's death. She had died giving birth to me, and even though he'd never said it to my face, I'd overheard him mentioning it to others. My nanny used to say I looked just like her, and I supposed it hurt him to look at me every day and see the woman he had lost. My brother, on the other hand, had always been gentler with me. We used to be incredibly close, almost inseparable. But ever since he started his training to become the future Beta, he had distanced himself. His priorities lay elsewhere now, entirely focused on the pack.

Kaïa also made sure no one dared to talk to me for too long. If anyone was even just polite to me, she found a way to make them pay. The result? Middle school had been a long, miserable drag, and high school didn't promise to be any better. I kept my head down, focused on my grades, and trained. If I could just become a warrior, maybe I'd finally escape this suffocating cycle. I didn't know it yet, but that day's confrontation with Kaïa would mark a real turning point in my life. After that incident, Kaïa, Jessa, and Marnie always found new, cruel ways to make me pay. Some days, it was just petty humiliations: They'd snatch a book from my hands and shred it in the hallway in front of everyone, or tear up my ten-page essay right before it was due, feigning shock with a mocking, "Oops." I had a backup saved on my computer, but the teacher—despite seeing the whole thing happen—still marked it late and gave me half credit. When my father found out, he refused to hear my side of the story. He punished me for my "laziness," locking me in my room for the entire weekend without food. In those moments, I missed Myreille the most: she would have snuck me something to eat, even if it was just a granola bar. My brother, meanwhile, made himself scarce. Ever since Myreille left, he hadn't even pretended to care about what happened to me—especially not in front of our father. Sometimes, the girls' attacks turned physical. They pulled my hair, shoved me against lockers, or slammed heavy bags into me as they walked by. I learned to slip into class last and leave first just to limit the beatings. Kaïa was careful, though: she never left visible marks. Even so, my ribs had been cracked several times over; a simple sneeze was enough to risk breaking them all over again. My wolf refused to waste energy healing such "minor" injuries, but she made sure the pain didn't linger. Her presence was the only thing that helped me endure. Inwardly, she mocked the "three Barbies," as she called Kaïa and her friends, sometimes even managing to pull a smile out of me. Kaïa knew I would never take my anger out on the other students, especially the younger ones. She exploited that line I wouldn't cross, targeting me day after day. My wolf and I had eventually accepted the reality of it: as long as they took it out on me, the others were spared. My Beta lineage allowed me to take the beatings well; I healed quickly, and that seemed to be enough to satisfy their cruelty. It was a twisted kind of peace—but peace nonetheless. Ever since I figured out how to sneak out of my room unnoticed, my wolf and I had taken to hunting at night. Whenever my father denied me food, it was our only way to survive. At some point, I started to believe I could manage on my own. The woods felt far more welcoming than my own home ever did. Then, in mid-November, a new student arrived. She joined our mandatory pack training, held every morning at five o'clock sharp. All high school students had to participate: learning basic self-defense, even if they weren't destined to be warriors. Based on age and rank, we were divided into three groups: basic training for everyone, intermediate for the patrols, and elite training for the warriors—Alphas, Betas, Gammas, Deltas, and their mates. The elites were the most experienced, but they also faced the highest risks. I loved those training sessions. I attended every single one, ignoring the dark glares from my brother, who couldn't stand seeing me there. As a born Beta, he had free rein of the grounds, yet my mere presence seemed to offend him. I brushed it off. Training was the one place I could exist outside of the pack's toxic hierarchy. Among the few girls in the program was Carra, a senior and the daughter of an elite warrior. She showed up, trained hard, and left without saying a word. The other women were either mates of the leadership or fighters themselves; the Luna, in particular, was an exceptional combatant. She always offered solid advice, teaching me how to use my small stature to my advantage. Opponents tended to underestimate a smaller fighter—a fatal mistake she repeatedly drilled into me to exploit. Those early mornings were my only real respite. Kaïa and her clique didn't dare provoke me in front of the future Alphas or the training instructors. Out on the field, I could finally breathe. Sometimes I thought about officially joining the warriors after graduation, making the defense of the pack my life's path. I already ran the borders occasionally, slipping out before or after class just to escape the house. Attacks were rare, but patrolling gave me a sense of purpose, and I liked the quiet camaraderie with the wolves who protected our territory. As for school, my grades were fine, but it was mostly the lingering fear of my father's wrath that drove me to study. The classes themselves hardly interested me anymore—especially since Kaïa had ensured I was a total outcast. Being seen with me meant signing a social death warrant. That morning, our instructor gathered us to announce a new recruit: a girl who had moved in with her aunt and uncle while her parents worked for the Alpha King. All eyes turned to the newcomer—even Kaïa had made an appearance, standing on the sidelines in high heels and a miniskirt, having mysteriously dodged mandatory training yet again. The new girl strode in with total confidence, acting as if she owned the place. Tall and athletic, with long dark brown hair and striking honey-colored eyes, she looked barely older than me but radiated an intimidating self-assurance. The boys couldn't take their eyes off her, which made me smirk: the "Barbies" were going to be furious. I must have made a sound, because she turned and met my gaze. Delta Kyle motioned for her to join our group, promising to explain the exercises as we went. She walked straight toward me. "I'm Solange. Nice to meet you," she said, holding out a hand. I stared at her for a long moment before my brain registered that she was waiting for a handshake. "Oh... sorry, Solène," I stammered, awkwardly taking it. "I'm just... not used to people talking to me." She gave me a curious look, but she didn't have time to respond: the trainer immediately paired us up for the warm-up. He probably figured I was the best fit to partner with her—given that I never missed a single session. Delta Kyle knew how hard I was working to join the patrol and had always granted me free access to the gym and the training fields, even trusting me with a spare key to the gate. Solange held her own surprisingly well in combat—probably just as well as I did. She was significantly taller, standing around five-foot-seven, while I barely scraped five-foot-one. Our heights weren't comparable, but our bodies were built similarly, which made learning new techniques together much easier. Her black sports bra and leggings accentuated her tanned skin and every well-defined muscle. With those curves, she could have easily worked as a model. I had muscles too—it was obvious my body was trained—but I preferred to keep my skin covered. Covering up meant hiding the injuries. Multiple layers of clothing concealed the bruises and cuts, stopping people from looking at me with pity or offering empty gestures of help. Maybe it was stupid, but my wolf and I had learned a long time ago that sympathy rarely lasted when it actually came time to take action. Most people preferred to look away just to preserve their own comfort. So, I kept my scars to myself. I tried to remain as invisible as possible, but I lived for those sparring sessions. During training, I usually stayed in the background, only sparring with the older wolves who came to assist Delta Kyle. He had noticed my tendency to withdraw—and I sensed that he knew exactly why. That was why he always made sure a training partner was available whenever I practiced alone. Maybe it was my Beta nature, or maybe it was just me, but nothing set my day right quite like a good fight: the adrenaline, the fire rushing through my veins—it always straightened me out. To be honest, I was a good fighter, even if Kaïa and her accomplices had knocked me to the ground more times than I could count. It was better that they took their anger out on me rather than on someone weaker who didn't deserve the abuse. I had learned a long time ago that it was better to suffer in silence than to give fodder to false saviors and their empty judgments.