Isla: Owned By Four Savage Alpha Brothers

Isla's POV ~

"Papa... My head is bleeding. It's dripping on the floor. I need a towel. Please, I'm making a mess... I'm sorry I'm shaking. I can't stop it. Please don't be mad that I'm shaking. I'll stand still, look, I'm trying to stand still..."

I knew I shouldn't have spoken. The second those words left my lips, the air in the room changed. I saw his hand move, but I was too slow to duck. I am always too slow.

The hit rattled my teeth. His ring caught the corner of my mouth and my cheekbone. I felt my skin split open immediately. It didn't even hurt at first. It just felt hot. Then gravity took over. I didn't choose to fall; my legs just gave up. I hit the hardwood floor hard. My knees took the impact, then my shoulder, and finally my face bounced off the boards.

I lay there. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I just tasted blood that was filling my mouth while staring at a dusty scratch on the floorboard. I focused on it because if I looked at him, I would die.

I really do hate the universe. It is a cruel, silent thing. I have spent hours on this floor begging. I have prayed to every god I know. I asked for small things. I asked for a full stomach. I asked for a warm blanket. I asked for death. Just a simple death. A heart attack. A fever. Anything. But the universe never answers. It just lets him keep going.

"You," he said. He didn't shout. He sounded tired. That was worse. "Pathetic mutt. You think you're special? You think you're a person?"

He paced around me. I heard his dress shoes on the wood. "You were good for nothing. I wanted a son. I needed an heir and what did I get? A girl. A weak, whining girl who can't even shift properly. You should have died. When your mother took those pills, she should have taken enough for you too. If you had died in the womb, my life would have been simple. I'd be rich. I'd be happy. But you lived. You chose to live, didn't you? To spite me!"

Next, I heard the sound of the belt.

I stopped breathing. I curled my toes into the floor. I waited.

He raised the silver belt that had wolfsbane on it. My father knew this, and that's why he never used leather belts. It never gave him the impact he wanted. He wanted me entirely damaged.

The moment he brought the belt down across my back, I screamed. I didn't want to, but my body took over. It was a sound I didn't recognize. It sounded like an animal dying in a trap. The wolfsbane immediately seared my skin. It didn't just cut me; it cooked me from the inside out. I could feel my wolf reacting. She wasn't just hurting; she was terrified. She was screaming inside my head, trapped and weak to save me.

The house shook with the noise I made. I was screaming so loud my ears hurt.

But he didn't stop. He didn't even blink. He just stood there, holding the belt, watching me thrash. He looked at me like I was a broken appliance he was trying to fix with a hammer. He didn't care about the noise. He didn't care about the blood spilling from my wounds.

I started begging the Moon Goddess. I didn't ask for help anymore. I asked for her to strike me dead. Please, just stop my heart. Make me vanish. Turn me to ash so I don't have to feel the silver again. I wanted him to hit me hard enough to kill me. I wanted the pain to be the last thing I ever felt.

He raised the belt again. I saw the silver buckle glint in the light.

He whipped me again. Right over the first mark.

I screamed until my throat cracked. I screamed until I was coughing. He just watched. He enjoyed tormenting me.

Why would he care? In the pack, I am a joke. I am 17, about to turn 18 sooner and I haven't shifted. Shifters my age had shifted right when they were just 16. I am a "late bloomer" to the world, but to him, I am a failure. I am broken stock. He does this every day to remind me. He hits me where it hurts most so I never forget my place.

Then, he stopped.

Silence rushed back into the room.

I was shaking. I couldn't stop. I was lying in a pool of sweat and blood. My back felt like it had been dipped in lava. The burns were deep. I knew they would scar just like always.

I tried to lift my head, but I couldn't. I looked at my hand. It was shaking on the floor. My hand was perfect. No cuts. No bruises there.

I looked at my legs. My clothes were shredded. I could see the angry red welts rising up on my thighs, my stomach, my ribs. They were destroyed. My skin there was broken and bleeding filled with old scars.

But my face was smooth. My neck was smooth. My hands were soft.

He made sure of it. He never hits the face. He never hits the hands. He only destroys the parts of me that are hidden. He wants me to look pretty for the world. He wants me to look like a normal girl so he can sell me or marry me off to one of his business partners. But underneath the clothes, my body was ruined.

"Get up."

His alpha command rang out and it bypassed my brain and went straight to my nervous system. My muscles locked tight, spasming with the need to obey. I hated that my body betrayed me even when my mind was screaming to just stay down and let him kick me until I stopped breathing.

I placed my hands on the floor. They were shaking so bad I almost slipped again. I pushed.

"Do you know why I keep your face pretty, Isla?" he asked coldly.

I nodded. I couldn't speak. My throat was swollen shut from the crying and the fear.

"Say it," he barked.

I flinched. A tear leaked out, stinging the open cut on my cheek. I choked on the words.

"Because... because I am only useful if I'm beautiful."

A slow, cruel smirk spread across his face. It didn't reach his eyes. "Smart girl."

He walked toward me. I backed up until my spine hit the wall. He stopped inches from me, towering over me.

"You might be a defective wolf," he said, reaching out to grab a lock of my hair and twist it around his finger, pulling just hard enough to make my scalp burn. "But you have your mother's face and skin. An Alpha daughter who can't shift is worthless in a pack. But a pretty face? That can still close business deals. That can still make alliances. And tomorrow is your birthday. You will shift. If you are not completely broken."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot on my face. "And if your wolf ever emerges... nothing changes. I am an Alpha. I have killed rogues twenty-five times stronger than you without blinking. You will live under my authority. You will do what I say. Or I will put you down like a rabid dog."

He let go of my hair and stepped back, dusting his hands off on his pants as if I was dirty.

"Remember three months ago? When I invited the Beta and his friends over?" He asked.

Ice floods my veins. I remember. I remember being thirteen when it started. Being held down by men whose wolves made them strong enough that my screams didn't matter. Being too young, too small, too wolfless to fight back.

"You're eighteen now. Legal. Imagine how much worse it could be with you fully grown." His smile is a predator's. "Your wolf won't protect you from a pack of Alphas, sweetheart. She'll just make you heal faster so we can do it again. Now get out and clean yourself up. You're a mess. And make sure no one ever comes across the scars on your body ever. Or I will make sure your life is more miserable than hell itself."

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall to the floor. I didn't cry anymore. I was tired of crying. It didn't change anything. It just made my head hurt.

I dragged myself up by the furniture. My body felt heavy. I went to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. My eye was swollen shut. My lip was split. I looked like a monster.

My eyes drifted to the cabinet above the sink. It was unlocked.

Inside, wrapped in a cloth, was a silver knife. It wasn't for cooking. It was for discipline. It was for pack members who broke the rules too many times. It was for werewolves who couldn't be controlled. One deep thrust to the heart, and the silver would burn the soul out of the body. A permanent death.

I stared at the handle. It was so close.

I could do it. I could drive it into my own heart right now. It would be so easy. Just a second of pain, and then the silence would be real. I could save my wolf from him. I could save her from being his slave, his punching bag, his breeding stock for the rogues he wanted to impress.

My hand started to shake. I reached out. My fingers brushed the cold metal of the handle.

I stopped.

I couldn't do it yet. Not yet.

I needed to know. I needed to see if my wolf was real. The part of me that was supposed to be strong. I had never felt her. Not once. But if I died now, I would never know if I was just a human mistake, or if there was actually a monster inside me waiting to wake up.

I just needed to see her. Just once. Before I ended it.

I pressed a cream, the only thing that helps wolfsbane burns against my ribs and remember the last time I saw my mother. I was eight. She was packing in the dark, moving with the unnatural silence only werewolves possess.

"Mommy?" I whispered from the doorway. She froze, her wolf-sharp senses catching my presence even though I'd tried to be quiet. When she turned, her face was a mess of bruises, one eye swollen shut, her lip split. Her wolf was there in her eyes, golden and desperate to shift.

"Baby, you need to go back to bed." That's what she had said.

I recalled asking where she was going and if I could come but she had looked me a long terrible moment and said no, that I haven't shifted yet. I couldn't keep up.

Then she ran. Shifted mid-leap into a beautiful wolf and crashed through the window, disappearing into the forest.

I stood there for hours, my wolfless human nose unable to track her, unable to follow, unable to do anything but watch her scent fade on the wind.

I pressed the cream harder against my burns until the pain brought me back.

She's out there somewhere. Alive. Free. She found a new pack. A fresh start.

She got to escape and build a new life.

And she left me here to rot.

Not because she couldn't take me. But because I wasn't worth taking. Because I was wolfless.

Sometimes I wonder: if I shift tonight, if my wolf finally comes, would she want me then? If I showed up on her new pack's border, shifted and strong and worthy, would she claim me as her daughter?

The worst part is, I don't even blame her anymore.

Because I understand now. Weakness is unforgivable in the werewolf world. And I've been weak for eighteen years.

_________

The next morning, I stared at the calendar. Today's date is circled in red: EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY - FIRST SHIFT

In werewolf development, eighteen is the last possible age for a first shift. If you haven't shifted by eighteen, you never will. You're officially classified as wolfless.

This is my last chance.

I've felt my wolf lately. She's in there, I know she is. I feel her scratching at my consciousness, whimpering, trying to surface but unable to break through until the moon recognizes me as an adult wolf.

I've planned everything. The second I shift, I'll be stronger. Fast enough to break through the window bars. I'll run into the forest and never look back.

I just need to make it to midnight.

"ISLA!" Kagan's Alpha bark made my bones locked up. Even without a wolf, I feel the command in my blood. "GET DOWN HERE! YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

I move automatically, my body conditioned to obey Alpha orders even without a wolf bond.

When I came downstairs, he was waiting, arms crossed, radiating Alpha dominance. "Spin." I turned slowly. He circled me like he's evaluating livestock. "Good. You look presentable for a wolfless embarrassment."

"Today is important, Lila. Do you know why?"

"My birthday?" I whisper.

His hand cracked across my face, hard enough to split my lip but not hard enough to bruise. I gasped in pain.

"Wrong. Today is the day you make yourself useful for once in your pathetic life."

He grabbed my jaw, forced me to meet his eyes. "You have a pretty face, Isla, and I suggest you put it to use! Make the werewolves in your school happy. I don't care what miles you'd take to ensure their happiness but do it! You're going to make them want you. Seduce them if you want! Or else... And trust me, Isla, the buyers in the underground rings pay extra for a pretty girl they get to destroy themselves. I'll let them use your face as an ashtray until you're nothing but scar tissue and bone."

My stomach dropped.

Isla's POV~

The moment I walked through the school gates, I already knew it was going to be a bad day.

The walk from the gate to the main doors was three hundred steps.

Yes, I counted them because if I didn't count, I would focus on the burning coursing through my skin.

My father had hit me hard with the belt buckle last night. He hit the same spot on my thigh until my skin broke there. The cotton of my underwear was sticking to it, and every time I took a step, the fabric of my skirt pulled the scab open again.

I just didn't know how to explain the pains further.

I didn't limp. I couldn't. If I limped, the lecturers would ask "Isla, are you okay?" and then I would have to lie, and if I lied badly, they would call him.

So I locked my knees. I put one foot in front of the other. I've been doing this for three years now.

I was ten steps away from the awning.

I didn't hear her coming.

I just heard the plastic rattle, and then the crash.

A bucket hit me right in the side. It was full of dirty mop water.

The impact knocked the wind out of me. I didn't even fall gracefully. My knees hit the concrete hard and then my hip slammed down. And I heard a crack. I had no idea if it was from my bones.

When the water hit my face, it went up my nose. I choked, but I didn't cough. I swallowed the cough because coughing makes noise. The water tasted like I had licked the inside of a clogged bathtub drain. It was thick and slimy. I felt something wet and stringy slide between my teeth, it was a clump of wet hair and lint from the mop head.

The dirty water soaked through my shirt instantly. It touched the open wounds on my ribs and thighs. The pain was so blinding that it made my eyes water, but I squeezed them shut.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the mutt."

The voice was cheerful. It was the type of voice that belongs to someone who has never been hungry in their life.

I opened my eyes. The water was dripping off my eyelashes.

Bella was standing over me.

She was holding one of the buckets she had thrown me. She looked... perfect. It hurt to look at her. She had blonde curls that bounced when she moved. Her skin was clear and pink. She was wearing a cheerleader jacket that was white and clean, with a big 'B' on the chest. She smelled like vanilla body spray . She looked like a princess, everything I wasn't supposed to be.

"Oh, relax," she said, looking down at me. She wrinkled her nose, like I was a bad smell she couldn't get rid of. "I was doing you a favour. You smelled like a garbage can. I was just making sure everyone around you could breathe properly."

Behind her, three girls laughed. I heard the click of their phones. They were recording.

Bella didn't look at the camera. She looked at me. She stepped closer. Her white sneakers were right next to my hand.

"Look at the floor," she said, pointing with her toe. "You're making a mess, Isla. The janitor is going to be mad."

I tried to push myself up. My arms were shaking. The water made my skin slippery. I slipped twice.

"Pathetic," she said.

Right at the hallway, students had slowed around us. Nobody said anything and nobody stepped forward. They just watched us.

I didn't try to get up. I knew that if I stood up without her saying the words, it would be seen as a challenge. It meant broken fingers or a ripped uniform, things I couldn't explain to the teachers. So I stayed down. I let the cold, dirty water soak into my skin. It burned where the wolfsbane had scratched me last night. I kept my face blank. I stared at a crack in the concrete and waited for her to get bored.

Bella was the Beta's daughter. In a werewolf school, blood is law. Her father ran the Crystal Moon Pack. He held the leases on half the territory my father wanted. If Bella complained, my father would beat me worse than usual. He told me this morning to make sure I get on their good books. Bella was one of the werewolves he wanted to have a good relationship with.

I didn't know how to make her like me. I didn't even know how to exist without her hating me. So I thought, maybe if I just took it, if I sat in the filth and didn't fight back, she would see I was harmless. Maybe she would think I was a good dog.

"Look at her," Bella said,. "She's actually staying put. Good girl."

She kicked a little water toward me with her white sneaker. It splashed on my cheek. I didn't wipe it off. I just blinked the dirty water out of my eyes.

Then the air suddenly changed.

The laughter of the girls behind Bella cut off instantly. The hallway went quiet.

I felt them instantly.

My body reacted before my brain did. A shiver started at the base of my spine and rattled my teeth. My hands, which were resting on the wet concrete, started to shake. It was a small tremor at first, then it got bigger. I couldn't stop it. My wolf knew they were there before I even saw them.

Brock. Maddox. Colt. Slade.

Blood drained out of my face. I knew those voices. I knew the way they walked.

The quadruplets. The Black Star heirs. The boys who made my life a living hell for three years. They were standing right behind Bella. I could see their shadows stretching over me, covering me completely.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to breathe, but the air felt too thick. I opened them and looked up.

They were there.

Brock was on the left, looking down at me with eyes like black glass. Maddox was next to him, cracking his knuckles. Colt was smirking, that cruel, twisted smile I saw in my nightmares. And Slade... Slade was looking at my wet uniform with a look of pure disgust.

They were huge. They were powerful and popular on campus. And they were all looking at me like I was something they needed to scrape off their shoes. And they were my worst nightmare since high school.

It wasn't always like this. I have to remember that so I don't go crazy. Three years ago, Maddox was in love with me. He was my first love. My first kiss. Then he found out that I was a whore to my father's friend.

Maddox didn't just stop loving me. He turned into a monster. He roared right in my face, a sound that vibrated in my chest and made my wolf cower. He looked at me like he wanted to tear my throat out. That was the moment the bullying started.

Bella giggled. She stepped closer to Maddox, her shoulder bumping his arm. She looked at me, then up at him, her eyes sparkling with malice.

"Aw, look at him," she cooed. "Maddox, are you going to be mad seeing your little prom date covered in toilet water?"

Maddox's jaw flexed. He didn't look at Bella. He stared at me with eyes that were completely dead.

"I'm not mad," he snarled. "I'm disgusted."

He took a step toward me. I flinched. I couldn't help it. My body remembered the pain he caused last week when he twisted my arm.

"Don't you dare," he yelled, spitting the words at me. "Don't you ever step into a classroom where I am. If I see you near me, I won't just ignore you. I will lose control. I will kill you right there. Do you understand me, mutt?"

My heart didn't just break. It shattered into dust. I could feel the pieces cutting me up inside.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab his shirt and shake him and tell him the truth. I wanted to tell him not to hate me. The words were burning the back of my throat. They were right there.

But I didn't tell them. I couldn't. My father made me swear not to or he'd hurt me. So I swallowed the truth.

I lowered my head. I stared at his boots. My eyes burned with hot tears but I refused to let them fall.

I whispered. "I won't go near you."

I turned around. My legs were shaking so bad I could barely stand. I dragged my body toward the bathroom. I just needed to hide. I needed to be invisible.

I stayed there for ten minutes. I thought they were gone. I thought I was safe.

Then I heard the door open.

"I'm telling you, she ran in here like a wet rat," a girl's voice said.

It was Bella. And she wasn't alone.

I froze. I stopped breathing. I pressed my hand over my mouth.

"So, wait," another girl giggled. "Is it true what they say? About you and Colt?"

Bella laughed.

"But you know the funniest part?" Bella lowered her voice. "The first time I fucked with Colt... he didn't even know."

My eyes snapped open in the dark stall.

"Know what?" the girl asked.

"That I wasn't a virgin.," Bella said, emphasizing the words with a cruel laugh. "He thought I was experienced. He was all rough and dominant, and I just had to sit there and take it and pretend I knew what I was doing. Can you believe it? The big playboy didn't even check."

I felt sick. Colt was a player. He slept with everyone. For him not to know... it meant something was wrong with Bella, or... or shit this was a very bad secret.

I shifted my weight. My sneaker squeaked on the tile floor.

The talking stopped instantly.

"What was that?" a girl hissed.

"The stall," Bella said. Her voice changed. It wasn't playful anymore.. "Someone's in there."

I heard footsteps.

Before I could lock the door properly, it was ripped open.

Bella stood there. Her face was twisted in rage. Behind her were three girls.

"You," she spat. "You were listening."

"I wasn't," I stammered, scrambling back against the toilet paper dispenser. "I just got here. I didn't hear anything."

"Liar," she snapped. She reached in and grabbed a handful of my hair. She yanked me forward. My head slammed against the door frame. Pain exploded behind my eyes.

"She heard us," one of the girls said. "She heard about Colt."

"I didn't!" I cried out, grabbing her wrist, trying to pull my hair free. "I swear I didn't!"

Bella's eyes went dark. She didn't care if I heard or not. She just wanted to punish me for existing.

"Get her," she ordered.

Two girls grabbed my arms. They were strong. They twisted my wrists behind my back until I gasped. They dragged me out of the stall and threw me toward the sinks.

"Since you like water so much," Bella said, picking up a bucket from the cleaning cart in the corner. It was half-full of dirty mop slimy water.

"Hold her head down," Bella commanded.

They shoved my face toward the basin. The cold porcelain pressed against my cheek. I thrashed. I kicked. I screamed, "No! Please! I won't tell anyone!"

"Shut up," Bella hissed.

She grabbed the back of my neck with one hand. With the other, she tipped the bucket.

The water hit the back of my head and poured over my face. It went up my nose. It filled my ears. It was freezing and it tasted like chemicals. I gagged. I choked. My lungs burned. I was drowning in a sink.

I couldn't breathe. My vision started to spot with black dots. I was going to pass out. I was going to die right here, face down in a toilet sink.

Just as my knees buckled and darkness started to close in, a hand grabbed the back of Bella's jacket and yanked her backward with terrifying force.

The pressure on my neck vanished. I gasped, choking on water, and fell to the floor, coughing up bile and dirty water. I rolled onto my back, my chest heaving, water streaming out of my nose.

I wiped the water from my eyes with a shaking hand and looked up.

Bella was stumbling back, looking furious. "Who the hell-"

She stopped.

Standing in the doorway wasn't a teacher.

It was Maddox.

He looked big. Bigger than I remembered. His chest was heaving, like he'd run here. His eyes were dark, and focused entirely on me, lying on the wet tile, coughing up water. Then he looked at Bella, and the look on his face was pure murder.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Maddox's voice was low. It was a growl that rattled the mirrors.

Bella's face went pale, then red. "She was spying on us! She-"

"I didn't ask you," Maddox snapped. He took a step into the bathroom. The air pressure dropped. The other girls scrambled back, pressing themselves against the wall. They were terrified of him. Everyone was.

He looked down at me. I was curled in a ball, shivering. I waited for him to kick me. I waited for him to finish what he started outside.

But he didn't look at me with hate. He looked at the bucket. Then he looked at the bruise forming on my cheek where Bella had hit me against the door frame.

His jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind.

"I told you," Maddox said, his voice shaking with a rage I didn't understand. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at Bella. "I told you not to touch her."

Bella laughed nervously. "Since when do you care, Maddox?."

Maddox took another step. He was towering over Bella now. He looked dangerous. Unstable. Like a bomb about to go off.

ISLA'S POV~

My brain was trying to catch up. This didn't make sense. Maddox was the monster. He was the one who started this. Three years ago, he was my boyfriend. Then he found out and he turned into a stranger who looked at me like I was something he scraped off his shoe.

He led the pack of bullies against me. He led the humiliation. So why was he standing between me and Bella like a shield? Why did he look like he wanted to tear Bella's throat out for touching me?

It felt like a trap. It had to be. Maybe this was a new game. Break the toy, then fix it, just so you can break it again.

"Let her go," Maddox said. His voice wasn't even loud. It was the type of voice an Alpha uses when he's about to bite. "And listen to me, Bella. You don't touch her. You don't look at her. You don't breathe in her direction. Is that understood?"

I saw Bella's feet shift. She was shifting her weight, nervously. I could hear her sharp intake of breath. She wasn't used to being spoken to like that by him. They were supposed to be on the same team.

"Maddox, I was just-" she started, her voice trembling.

"I don't care what you were doing," he cut her off."I said, is that understood?"

There was a long silence.

"Yes," Bella whispered. She sounded small. "Understood."

I lifted my head just an inch. I saw Bella look down at me. Her eyes were filled with pure hate. She looked like she wanted to kill me. She nodded at Maddox, and then she spun around. Her friends scrambled after her, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hall.

Then it was just us.

The door clicked shut.

Maddox turned around slowly. He looked down at me. I was still on the floor, looking like a drowned rat. I expected him to laugh.

Instead, he reached out a hand.

I stared at it. My heart hammered against my ribs. Don't take it, my brain screamed. This is the hand that pushed you down the stairs.

But my body moved on its own. I reached up. My hand was shaking. His fingers closed around mine. His grip was tight. He pulled me up like I weighed nothing.

I stood there, swaying. I didn't pull my hand away because he wasn't letting go. He pulled me closer, just a step, so I had to look up at him. He was so tall. He blocked out the light from the window.

He looked at my face. He looked at the wet hair sticking to my cheeks. He looked at the red marks on my neck where Bella had grabbed me. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

"You know what this means, right?" he asked.

I shook my head slightly. I couldn't speak. My throat was closed up.

"I just saved you from Bella," he said. He let go of my hand, but he didn't step back. He crowded me against the sink. "And I don't do things for free, Isla. You know that."

I swallowed hard. "I... I didn't ask you to."

"Doesn't matter," he said. A dark smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "You owe me now. You owe me a favour. A big one."

My chest locked up. A favour?

I looked at him. He was a Black Star Pack heir. He had money, power, an army behind him. I was nothing. I was the daughter of a traitor. I had nothing to give him.

What kind of favour?

My mind raced through the worst possibilities. He would make me steal for him. He would make me hurt someone. Or... my stomach dropped. He would make me do something with my body.

Was this him collecting the rest of the debt?

"What... what kind of favour?" I whispered.

He just looked at me. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. I could smell mint on his breath. "I haven't decided yet," he said softly. "But when I do, you better be ready to pay. Because I always collect."

He stepped back.

"Clean yourself up," he said, turning his back to me to check his phone. "You look like hell."

I stood there, frozen.

The school bell rang. It echoed off the tiles and made me jump.

It was the signal that the hallway was about to be full of people. I couldn't be here with him. If anyone saw us...

"I have to go," I blurted out. My voice cracked.

I didn't wait for him to answer. I turned and ran.

I pushed past the stall doors and bolted for the exit. My wet shoes squeaked on the floor. I kept my head down, I felt tears burning behind my eyes.

______________

I slipped through the door just as the class was ending. But I was late. My thighs were burning, the wet denim of my uniform was sticking to the open sores. Every step I took made a wet, squelching sound against the linoleum.

Mrs. Gable was at her desk, shoving papers into a leather bag. She looked up. She saw me. She saw the wet hair plastered to my forehead, the dark stains on my shirt where the mop water had soaked through to the blood, the way I was holding my side because my ribs felt like they were grinding together.

She didn't ask if I was okay. She didn't ask what happened. She just stopped packing and looked at me with a expression that wasn't even disgust.

Then she turned to the class. The room went quiet.

"Before you all leave," she said, her voice projecting to the back row, "I want to remind you of the dress code. And basic hygiene." She didn't look at me, but I felt the weight of her words. "We are wolves. We are predators. We are not... scavengers. If you look like you've been dragged through a sewer, do us all a favor and stay home. It is distracting to the other students. It lowers the tone of the entire pack."

She picked up her bag.

I felt heat rush up my neck, burning my ears. I kept my head down, staring at my wet shoes. I wanted to sink into the floor.

I heard a sound from the third row. A snicker that was very cruel.

I glanced up. Bella was looking at me. She wasn't angry anymore. She looked... amused. She caught my eye, held it, and let out a little laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. She looked satisfied. The teacher had done her dirty work for her.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I sat down at the empty desk in the back, the one no one wanted, and pulled my hood up.

Hours dragged by.

I waited for the shove. I waited for the trip in the hallway. I waited for whispers. But it didn't come.

Bella walked past me in second period. She didn't even look at me. It was like I was a ghost. The girls with her didn't laugh. They looked straight ahead, terrified of something.

Perhaps Maddox's threat had worked.

And the quadruplets... they were gone. Their seats in the front row were empty. I tried not to look at them, but the absence was loud. They were top scholars. Alphas in training. They didn't need to be here if they didn't want to be. The fact that they weren't here meant I could breathe. Just a little.

I started counting.

I looked at the clock.

Nine more hours until the sun went down and the moon came up. Nine hours until my birthday officially started. Until I turned fully eighteen.

My wolf was waiting. I could feel her pacing in the back of my mind. She was angry. If I could just shift... if I could just let her out...

I wouldn't be the daughter who takes the beatings. I wouldn't be the girl who gets mocked. I would be teeth and claws and speed. I could run. I could fight. I could tear out throat of anyone who came near me. I could finally go back to that house and make my father regret every single time he raised his belt.

The thought of the gun under my pillow flashed in my mind. I had stolen it from his study a month ago. I had bullets hidden in a shoebox.

If I shift... if I'm strong enough...

The day blurred. I kept my head down. I didn't even speak.

Finally, the final bell rang.

I grabbed my bag. My hands were shaking, not from fear this time, but from anticipation.

I walked out of the building. The air was cooler now. The courtyard was full of students, laughing, shouting. I kept to the edge of the wall to stay invisible.

I was almost at the gate. I could see the street outside. I could see a taxi.

Then two shadows fell over me.

They didn't just step in front of me; they blocked the sun. They were tall. Broad. The air pressure changed instantly, dropping so hard my ears popped.

I stopped dead. My heart didn't just sink; it stopped beating entirely.

I knew who it was without looking up. I knew the way they stood. Legs apart, their weight shifted, radiating arrogance.

I slowly lifted my eyes.

Black leather jackets. Dark jeans. Matching cold, predatory smiles. Slade and Brock.

They weren't in class. They were waiting. They were standing right in front of the exit.

Slade looked down at me, his eyes dark and empty. Brock was leaning against the gate, blocking the only way out, twirling a set of car keys around his finger.

"Cut the chase, Isla," Slade said. "We know it's your birthday. We're here to celebrate. Take us home."

It wasn't even a request. I knew that. I stared at my hands. They were shaking in my lap. My father wasn't home. If I took them there, I was leading wolves into the sheep pen. But if I didn't... I looked at the knife in Brock's hand.

I thought of the gun. It was under my pillow. If I could get to it... if I could just get to my room...

"Okay," My voice sounded dead. "Follow me."

_________

The drive was short. When we pulled up to my house, the paint was peeling off the porch. The yard was a mess of weeds. It was a dump compared to the mansion they lived in.

"Charming," Brock muttered, getting out of the car. He stretched, his joints popping. "Fitting for a mutt."

I walked up the steps, my legs feeling like lead. I unlocked the door. The house smelled like dust. It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Where's Daddy?" Slade asked, pushing past me into the living room. He kicked a pile of laundry with his boot. "Oh, wait. I forgot. He doesn't care about you."

"Upstairs," I said, my throat tight. "My room is upstairs."

I led them up. The carpet was threadbare. I could feel their eyes on my back, burning holes through my shirt. When we got to my room, I pushed the door open.

It was small. A twin mattress on the floor, a cheap dresser, and a desk piled with books. The sheets were gray and thin. There were no posters on the walls. Just scars and marks where I'd hit the wall when the pain got too bad.

Slade walked in and poked the mattress with his toe. "Jesus. Do you sleep on rocks?"

Brock went to the dresser and started opening drawers. He pulled out my underwear that was worn thin from too many washes. He held them up by the elastic, snapping them against his palm.

"Look at this," he sneered. "No wonder everyone likes your body, Isla. You dress like a nun. It makes a man wonder what you're hiding."

I stood frozen. I didn't pick them up. I stared at the pillow. The gun was right there. Inches away. If I lunged...

But Slade was blocking the door. He was too big. Too fast.

"She's not cooperating," Brock said, his voice dropping an octave. He turned to me, and the playfulness was gone. His face was hard, cruel. "We came all this way for a party, Isla. You're the host. Act like it."

He grabbed my arm and shoved me. I stumbled back onto the bed. The mattress was hard against my spine.

"Side," he ordered.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My brain was screaming run, but my body was paralyzed.

Slade laughed. He walked over and stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at me.

"She's scared. That's boring. We need to fix that."

"Look at me," Slade commanded.

I lifted my chin. His eyes were dark, dilated, focused entirely on my chest.

"You dress like a nun," he murmured, stepping closer until his thighs brushed my knees. "But let's see what's under the wrapping."

He reached out with his free hand and grabbed the collar of my shirt. He didn't tear it. He just pulled it down, hard. The fabric strained against my throat, then gave way, exposing the top of my chest and the lace cup of my bra and then went ahead to unbuckle his belt.

"Slade, don't," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Shut up."

He didn't stop. He brought the bunched-up panties up and pressed the rough cotton directly against my breast, right over the nipple. He started to rub.

It should have hurt. It should have felt disgusting.

But my body betrayed me instantly.

The friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My back arched involuntarily.

"Good. Now stay calm and be a good girl and don't bite."