Chapter 4 FOUR

They find a new way to break me every day.

Raven, Lena, and Ivy-our very own holy trinity of cruelty.

Some days it's death by paper cuts. A torn book scattered across the hallway tiles, pages fluttering like feathers.

Or my ten-page essay, painstakingly researched and carefully typed, ripped from the pile and shredded into confetti.

Raven handed it back to me with a sweet, "Whoops." Like it was a joke we were all in on.

I had a backup, of course. Printed a new copy at lunch and handed it in after class. The teacher didn't care. Half credit, marked late. She'd seen it happen. Said nothing.

My father didn't ask questions when the grade came through. He didn't need to. Lazy was the word he used. His tone was as cold as the tile beneath my feet as he locked me in my room for the weekend-no meals, no excuses.

Lila would've slipped something under the door. A granola bar, maybe. Water. Something. But Lila's gone now. The last person in this house who saw me as more than a stain on the family name.

My brother wasn't home when it happened. Or if he was, he stayed silent upstairs. He doesn't pretend anymore-not since Lila left. Not since pretending became inconvenient.

Sometimes the cruelty is subtle. Sometimes it leaves bruises.

Hair pulled. Shoulders shoved into lockers, into doors, into corners sharp enough to crack bone. Raven and her girls don't make mistakes, they know exactly where to hit so no one sees.

The pain behind my ribs sings like a lullaby now, the Leoe ache over and over until it's almost familiar. A hard sneeze could probably rebreak what hasn't set properly.

My wolf doesn't waste energy on the small wounds anymore. We save our strength for worse things. But she dulls the pain.

Wraps it in silence. Her dry commentary on Raven's endless tantrums is the only thing that makes me smile some days.

Raven's smart. She's realized I won't lash out if she uses the younger kids as bait. Won't retaliate. That makes me her favorite target. Every slap, shove, and smirk keeps the others safe. Keeps the peace.

If you can call Raven's kingdom of fear "peace."

My wolf and I... we've come to an agreement. Let them take their shots. Let them feed their need for control on me. My blood heals faster than they think. My bones are Beta-born. I can take it. And as long as Raven believes she's winning, the rest of the pack gets a reprieve.

It's a terrible kind of logic.

But it works.

And having my wolf makes it bearable. She taught me how to sneak out at night without waking the house. How to hunt, to find food when our father locks the kitchen. How to survive when survival shouldn't be this hard in your own home.

Sometimes I think I could just leave. Walk into the woods and not come back. Live wild. Quiet. Free.

But everything changed in November.

It was the morning air I noticed first. Crisp, sharp, just cold enough to bite through layers. Training had already started-early, as always. Mandatory for all high school pack members, even the ones who would never hold a weapon in their life. Self-defense wasn't optional. Everyone was expected to know how to protect the pack.

As we grew older, the training split into tiers: basic drills for civilians, intermediate sessions for patrols, and elite sessions for warriors and future ranked members-Alphas, Betas, Gammas, Deltas, and their chosen mates. The closer you were to the top, the more pressure there was. The higher the expectations.

I lived for training. It was the one place where pain made sense, where effort wasn't wasted. Even if my brother hated seeing me there. His eyes always narrowed when we crossed paths, like I'd trespassed on sacred ground. I ignored him. I'd earned my place through blood and bruises just like anyone else.

Out of all the girls, only one other came to the elite sessions.

Liora.

A senior. Quiet. Unapologetically strong. Her father was one of the elite warriors, and rumor had it he made her come. She didn't talk much, didn't mingle. She trained hard, wiped sweat from her brow, and left.

I respected that.

Then came the new girl.

She arrived halfway through November, dropped into our training group like a puzzle piece from the wrong box. No one knew her name at first, only that she moved like she belonged-shoulders back, gaze steady, like she didn't care what anyone thought.

I watched her from across the mats that first morning. Watched the way Raven and her girls whispered behind manicured hands. Watched them assess the threat. New blood always caused a stir. But this girl?

She didn't stir.

She stormed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt something spark in my chest that wasn't fear, wasn't pain, wasn't quiet resignation.

Curiosity.

Hope, maybe.

Something was about to change.

Most of the girls who trained with us were either mated to high-ranking wolves or already part of our warrior ranks.

The Luna stood out, though-not just because of her title but because of her strength, grace, and willingness to spar with anyone, even someone like me. She kept me sharp.

During drills, she and the other women would share techniques and personal stories-tips that helped me understand how to use my size as an advantage rather than a limitation. The guys usually didn't bother sparring with me.

Our fathers, including mine, seemed too invested in grooming their sons and chosen heirs. My own dad didn't even acknowledge my presence. Still, the female warriors saw me. They taught me that being underestimated could be a weapon in itself.

What always got me was the contradiction in the way our males behaved. They revered their mates, constantly praised the strength of our women, and stood like steel walls to protect us.

But in practice, they still believed the real power-the real thinking-was theirs alone. They didn't say it outright, but their actions told the story. They saw themselves as the protectors, the leaders, the ones who mattered most.

Despite all that, training was my sanctuary. It was the one place I could breathe without worrying about Raven, Lena, or Ivy cornering me with their toxic little games.

They didn't dare start anything when the future alphas and top-ranking sons were around. That left me space to be myself-even if it meant staying out of the spotlight, tucked in the back where no one bothered to look.

Sometimes I imagine continuing my training after graduation. I've already started running the perimeter trail-either in the early hours or after school, especially when I need to avoid my house or certain people.

While our pack doesn't get many rogue threats, they do happen. Our border patrol works closely with surrounding packs to respond fast.

I've grown to respect those warriors, hearing firsthand how they act as our first defense line. It's real work-dangerous and noble-and I've found comfort in learning from them.

Academically, I do well, but it's not because I care. It's more about pressure. My father demands that I perform like someone of our status should, and since I don't have a social life, thanks to Raven's endless sabotage.

I have more than enough time to study. She's made sure I'm treated like social poison. No one dares get close.

The sound of our trainer's voice pulled me out of my thoughts as he called us all in for instructions. He outlined our drills for the day and then added, almost as an afterthought, "We've got a newcomer today. She's here with her aunt and uncle while her parents serve the Alpha King."

That one sentence snapped everyone to attention-even Raven. She sat on the sidelines, like usual, dressed for a party instead of training, heels and all. I still don't know how she keeps skipping these mandatory sessions without consequence, but clearly today she showed up for the drama.

Then the girl walked in-tall, confident, like the room belonged to her. That's what hit me first: the way she carried herself.

She looked about my age, maybe a little older, with long dark hair and honey-golden eyes that sparkled even in the dull lighting.

Her body was lean, strong, and clearly trained, which explained the way every guy in the room seemed to track her every move. I couldn't help but grin. The so-called Barbies were not going to like this one bit.

I must've made some kind of noise because the girl glanced my way, eyes locking on mine like she'd caught me in the act. Delta Nolan motioned her forward and told her she could join the group-we'd bring her up to speed.

And then, just like that, she came right over.

She stopped directly in front of me and held out her hand. "Sierra. Nice to meet you."

I blinked, caught off guard. It took me a second to realize she was speaking to me. Her hand stayed steady, but she lifted one brow, clearly waiting for me to act like a normal person.

"Oh-sorry," I stammered, shaking her hand quickly. "I'm Aria." My voice dipped as I added, "Not used to people... talking to me."

I released her hand fast and turned back toward the front, already mentally kicking myself for sounding so awkward.

She looked at me like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, the trainer started dividing us into pairs for sparring. Naturally, he paired us together. She'd approached me, after all, and he knew I was committed-always here, always ready to work.

Delta Nolan had known for a while that I wasn't like the others. I didn't train to impress anyone. I trained to survive, to escape.

He was the one who noticed when I started showing up before sunrise and staying long after the others left. A few months back, he even gave me a gate key so I could come and go as I pleased.

It was one of the few times someone had acknowledged me-not just my name or bloodline, but me.