Escaping The Ruthless Pack: Pregnant With The Alpha's Heirs

VIDA

"Hey, Vida!" one of my co-workers called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "What's it like being such a freak? How does it feel?" Everyone laughed and murmured more mocking words.

“Ugly!”

“Murderer!”

“Bitch!”

“Wolfless killer!”

“What a useless omega!”

Instead of looking at them, I just bowed my head down and let myself be unfazed with their taunting. This was a routine I had grown accustomed to over the years. The whispers, the sneers, the alienation—I had heard it all before. And I’m used to it.

I stretched my weary arms, feeling the ache from the long and arduous day at work. I toiled away in the alcohol factory, where the demand for top-notch liquors and wine never seemed to wane.

What made our factory unique was that all the employees, including myself, were werewolves. Yet, even within this werewolf community, there existed a hierarchy.

The high-ranking werewolves enjoyed shorter work hours and generous pay, while those of us in lower ranks, like the omega werewolves, toiled away for extra hours.

As an omega, I found myself working diligently alongside with my fellow omegas. Despite the demanding hours, I found solace in this job. It allowed me to save up for my future expenses and work towards achieving independence.

With a contented sigh and a faint smile, I realized I was already fortunate.

In this vast world, I find myself without anyone to lean on. My parents are a distant memory, as I have no recollection of them. Curiously, my auntie never divulged any additional information about them.

Speaking of my auntie, I need to hurry home. She's ordered me to clean the bathroom once again, claiming it wasn't up to her standards. Hastily, I darted away, anxious to reach home promptly.

"She's going to despise me!" I whispered breathlessly as I hurried along. Upon arriving home, my auntie's disapproving glare greeted me.

"Why are you so late?" she inquired, her tone filled with annoyance. I cast my eyes downward, attempting to catch my breath.

"I-I'm... sorry," I muttered softly. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation.

"Why did I even allow you into my home when you're utterly useless!" With those words, my auntie turned and walked away. I let out a sigh of relief.

At least this time, she hadn't resorted to physical punishment. Making my way to the attic, which served as my room, I couldn't help but notice the numerous boxes scattered about. They contained old ornaments from years gone by, remnants of the house's past.

My auntie, Auntie Olivia, is my father's younger sister. Despite her indifference towards me, I still felt a sense of gratitude for her providing me with a roof over my head and three meals a day.

Placing my bag on the worn table in the attic, I contemplated whether I should combine cleaning with taking a shower, conserving water to keep the bills at bay.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I proceeded downstairs to tackle the remaining chores assigned by my auntie.

"Oh, you're here!" I heard a scoff from behind. It was my eldest cousin, his face contorted with disgust.

Their treatment was nothing new to me; I had grown accustomed to it over the years since coming to their home. Survival meant acclimating to their ways.

"Hello, Harold," I greeted politely. He glared at me with venom in his eyes.

"Forget it! Don't you dare call me that! You repulsive, filthy little omega!" he spat before storming out of the room.

Though I claimed to be immune to their words and actions, each insult pierced my heart like a sharp blade, as they are my family.

I was on my own, with no one to shield me or stand by my side. Perhaps, this was my destined fate, to endure such treatment. I sighed, pushing the pain aside, and resumed cleaning the house diligently, ensuring everything was in its rightful place.

"Next, I must tend to the bathroom," I whispered to myself, grabbing a fresh set of clothes before returning downstairs to begin the task.

As I showered, I scrubbed the tiles meticulously, ensuring a spotless bowl, so as not to invite their wrath and avoid their scathing remarks about my supposed incompetence.

After thirty minutes, feeling refreshed, I stepped out of the bathroom, only to be called by my auntie.

"Vida, hurry up! We need to get to the mansion, or I'll be late because of you!" My auntie exclaimed, urging me to prepare.

Glancing at the clock, I realized it was almost seven in the evening, and my auntie need to go and work at the nearby mansion.

This was no ordinary wealthy family; it was the Alpha family's residence.

With age catching up to her, my auntie contemplated retirement, passing the responsibilities on to me.

The weight of the impending role made me nervous. I questioned my abilities, unsure if I would excel.

Observing my hesitation, my auntie frowned. "Don't just stand there! Go and make yourself presentable. Don't forget to apply your prosthetic make-up!"

"Do I really have to?" I asked, dreading the thought of putting on that irritating prosthetic make-up. Ever since my parents' passing, I had been wearing it. She scoffed at my reluctance.

"Do I need to repeat myself? Your face is too intimidating! We don't want to attract other she-wolves because of you!" My auntie explained with an exasperated huff.

I sighed and nodded, resigned to the fact. I retreated to my room and reluctantly applied the make-up, avoiding the reflection in the old table's mirror. The sight of my transformed face brought me nothing but displeasure.

Once I finished applying the make-up, I descended the stairs and found my auntie waiting at the door. As her gaze met mine, she simply stared and proceeded to exit. It was then that I noticed Harold, wearing a smirk, observing me closely.

"Nice face, freak!" he jeered, bursting into laughter.

I lowered my gaze and obediently trailed behind my auntie as we made our way to her workplace.

Upon arriving at the mansion, all eyes turned toward me, their gazes fixated as if I were some peculiar attractions at a circus, drawing a crowd of onlookers.

Their curious stares made me feel exposed, causing me to halt in my tracks. With my head hung low, I nervously rubbed my arms, despising the way they scrutinized me.

"Vida! Why are you just standing there?" my auntie called out, striding towards me with the intention of slapping me for my momentary distraction.

Thankfully, I noticed her movement in time and swiftly dodged the blow. No one uttered a word.

My auntie scoffed, rolled her eyes in annoyance, and resumed walking. I simply followed her inside, silently enduring the weight of their judgment.