Sophia POV:
Victoria turned and left the kitchen, her laughter echoing off the stone walls.
I stood completely still.
My inner wolf curled up in the dark corners of my mind, its throat emitting a series of low, broken whimpers, the strength to even lift a paw having been utterly drained away.
That night, I climbed the narrow stairs to my tower room.
A rough sheet of parchment was pulled from beneath my bed, along with a bottle of ink.
As the quill scratched against the fibrous surface, a plan to escape the Blood Moon Pack began to take shape, black and irrevocable.
I wrote to an old friend who had moved to a distant pack, asking her to find me a mate.
I was ready to leave the Blood Moon Pack forever.
Weeks passed, and the September winds grew bitter cold.
One evening, I was carrying a heavy bucket of ash to the courtyard.
I saw Victoria standing near the armory doors, talking to Gideon.
"Alpha, the silver-laced weapons need to be moved to the high armory," Victoria said, batting her eyelashes. "But they are so heavy."
Silver was deadly to us.
Even the smell of it made a werewolf nauseous.
Gideon looked around the empty courtyard.
His eyes landed on me.
"Sophia," Gideon called out.
I stiffened and walked over, keeping my eyes on the dirt.
"Help Lady Victoria carry these crates to the armory tower," Gideon ordered.
I looked at the massive wooden crates.
I was an Omega. I was small.
But I was still a wolf, and I had pride.
"Yes, Alpha," I said coldly.
I lifted the heavy crate.
The faint, acrid scent of silver seeped through the wood, coiling in my stomach like a cold serpent.
I carried the crate up four hundred spiraling stone steps, a journey measured in burning muscle and the sting of sweat in my eyes.
Victoria walked ahead of me, her hands completely empty.
When we finally reached the top, Gideon was waiting there to inspect the armory.
I let the crate fall to the stone floor with a loud, echoing crack.
I turned around to leave.
"Sophia," Gideon said softly.
I stopped, but I did not look back.
He stood there in silence for a long moment.
"Thank you for your hard work," he finally muttered.
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
"You are welcome, Alpha," I sneered, and walked away.
When I told Eliza what happened, she slammed her fist onto our small wooden table.
The wood splintered and cracked.
"His brain is entirely broken!" Eliza yelled. "How can he treat you like a pack mule?"
"It does not matter anymore," I said calmly. "My wolf no longer wants him."
By mid-October, a messenger bird arrived at my window.
It brought a letter from the Silver Leaf Pack.
My friend had found someone.
His name was Julian. He was a Beta.
Betas were second-in-command, known for their steady and calm nature.
He was a healer, and he was looking for a quiet life.
I sat at my desk and filled three pages of parchment with a letter to Julian.
I did not hide anything.
I told him I was a lowly Omega. I told him I scrubbed pots and smelled of smoke.
I told him I had a big appetite and strong arms from carrying heavy loads.
I sent the letter away, feeling a strange sense of relief.
The very next afternoon, I was walking back from the kitchen.
A large crowd of wolves had gathered in the main courtyard.
I pushed through the murmuring crowd to see what was happening.
Victoria's mother, a high-ranking noblewoman, suddenly rushed forward.
Before I could react, she dropped to her knees right in front of me.
The entire courtyard gasped in shock.
I did not yet know that this kneeling woman would be the first stone in an avalanche designed to bury me.
