redith.
I couldn't feel my body.
Not when I walked out of the ballroom, flanked by my family like a prisoner.
Not when the murmurs of wolves trailed behind , thick with shock, disgust, and morbid curiosity.
And certainly not when my father's grip tightened around my arm—hard enough to bruise, tight enough to snap it in half if he wanted. But he didn't.
He hadn't stepped in when I was bullied, humiliated, and mocked. But the mont Draven Oatrun claid as his, then—only then—did he finally cross the room and take my hand.
Not as a joke. Not as a mistake. But as his future wife.
And now, as we left the Lunar Ball before the party was even over, his silence was deafening because, for the first ti tonight, I hadn't just embarrassed myself. I had embarrassed him and my entire pack.
Not only had I beco the centre of attention, but I had drawn the eyes of important pack leaders, elders, and even the future Alpha King. And my father had had enough of .
I was numb, trapped sowhere between humiliation and anger, then fear and regret because this wasn't over. At least not until I've gotten a beating.
---
The drive back to our family estate was suffocating and almost impossible to bear.
No one spoke because they didn't have to. My father's anger was a living, breathing force in the rcedes van, thick and unforgiving.
My mother sat beside him, lips pressed into a thin line. She has never defended since that nightmare of a cursed day, and she wouldn't start now.
My older sisters, Monique and Mabel, exchanged looks behind our parents, amusent flickering in their eyes once in a while. They did not mind that I was sitting right next to them. I was their fun, after all.
And my older brother, Gary sat behind the wheel with one of our family's bodyguard in the front passenger seat.
Gary's gaze kept flickering to the rearview mirror, where our eyes accidentally t a few tis. A sneer practically carved into his face. I quickly stopped looking and cradled my torn veil in my arms before he burned with his gaze.
My stomach churned as bile rose to my throat. My breathing hitched.
This was going to be a long night.
---
MOONSTONE PACK.
The Carter's Estate.
The second the car stopped in the driveway, my father yanked the door open and fixed his death stare on .
"Get out!" he ordered, voice cutting like a blade.
I hesitated—just for a second—glancing at my sisters, who should have stepped out first. Big mistake
His hand shot out, iron-tight around my arm.
Pain exploded up my shoulder as he dragged out, his grip so tight my bones protested. My veil slipped from my fingers, landing in the dirt as I stumbled to keep up.
My father pulled inside, hauling through the front doors amidst the wandering stares from the guards stationed around the estate.
It was normal for to be disgraced around here, so no one was surprised or thought I was in a dangerous situation that required saving. They would actually rather watch and enjoy get punished.
My mother and siblings followed behind us at a much more leisurely pace. Their job wasn't to interfere; they were going to watch, much to their pleasure.
The mont the doors slamd shut behind us, my father's voice thundered through the hall.
"What in the Goddess's na have you done?!"
I barely had ti to react before his palm struck my face.
CRACK!
Pain exploded across my cheek almost imdiately, whipping my head to the side as a buzzing sound filled my right ear. I think it's going to take a while for my hearing to be fully restored.
My hand instinctively reached out to cradle my cheek as I tasted blood. I didn't dare to lift my head for fear of being hit again.
"Gabriel!" My mother's voice cut through the air calmly. And for a second, I stopped breathing.
My father turned, his expression darkening. "What?" he snapped, impatient.
A heavy pause followed before my mother spoke again. "Don't hit her face."
My stomach twisted as my siblings stilled in surprise.
I lifted my head, sothing close to hope flickering to life for the first ti in years. Then she added, "The injury will reopen, and we'll have to waste more herbs on sealing it again."
The hope died before it even had a chance to breathe.
I felt nothing realizing that Mum's indifference towards was better off than her concern because it just didn't make sense.
My father shifted his furious gaze to before taking a seat a second later. He agreed with my mother on this, unlike my siblings, who simply didn't give a fuck.
"Kneel!" My father commanded, his eyes blazing with fire. And almost imdiately, I got on my knees before him and dropped my gaze, clasping my fingers nervously in front of .
"You are such a big disappointnt and a disgrace to our family and our pack!" My father started, jabbing a finger in front of my face. "I warned you never to take off your veil!"
"And Father, I warned her to control her stupid pheromones!" Gary cut in as his height towered above . "Now look what she did tonight, seducing more than half of the n with it!"
"And this happened right after she was rejected by her mate," Monique continued, sneering at . And just then, Mabel added my third offence to the list.
"As if that wasn't enough embarrassnt for the night, she got claid by our future king as if it is a good thing," Mabel said, her tone dripping with venom.
At that sa mont, Gary slapped my head. "The cursed whore finally caught an Alpha's attention—too bad she doesn't know he is going to use her as his plaything."
My fingers tightened around each other until my knuckles turned white. That was the best I could do to show my anger because I didn't understand a word my brother had just spoken.
From behind my father, Monique scoffed. "Look at her," she muttered. "Feeling like she's worth sothing."
Mabel sighed dramatically. "I told you she'd embarrass us eventually."
My father's breathing was ragged as he stood to his feet. His hands trembled at his sides—not with regret, but with barely restrained fury. He wanted to hit again, but instead, his voice turned cold.
"You have shad this family," my father spat, pacing like a caged wolf.
I curled my fingers into my palms, nails biting into my skin. I stayed silent. It was the only defence I had.
"You were already a disgrace," he continued, voice dripping with disgust. "A wolfless, cursed mistake. But now, you've let yourself beco a spectacle."
I swallowed back the words I wanted to scream—that I never asked for any of this. That none of it was my fault. That he, my mother, my siblings, my mate... they had all already decided I was worthless because of that damn curse. But I knew better than to speak.
His glare was pure hatred. He was disgusted by , and then I knew he wished I had never been born.
"First, your mate rejected you. Then, you made a fool of yourself with those disgusting pheromones. And now, you let Draven Oatrun claim you?" he questioned.
I didn't let Draven claim . He had decided without warning, without hesitation, that I would be his, and I had straightforwardly refused. But none of that mattered to my father because to him, I was a disgrace no matter what.
I braced myself for another blow, but instead, my father turned to my mother and then uttered the words I dreaded most.
"Lock her in the poultry shed!"
My stomach dropped instantly. The poultry shed, the place they had thrown every ti I had brought disgrace to my family.
Dark, cold and crawling with filth.
My mother hesitated, eyes flicking toward . "Gabriel, maybe—"
"I said now!" my father snapped. And just like that, my mother nodded. "Yes, dear."
Her hands trembled as she grabbed my wrist.
I didn't fight, and I have never had to because fighting only worsened my situation.
So, I let her lead outside, past the main house, to the small wooden shack behind the estate.
The scent of damp hay and the faint musk of birds long gone filled my nose. I stepped inside without a word. The door slamd shut behind , and the lock clicked.
And for the first ti, I actually thought about Alpha Draven's claims and the fact that he was coming for tomorrow.
"I don't know why that wound has refused to heal for months now!" My mother spat angrily, snapping out of my thoughts before walking away.
After she was gone, I reached up, fingers brushing against the scar on my left cheek—the one that refused to heal.
Because I didn't want it to.
Because it was the only part of I still had control over.
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