The morning sun filtered through the dining hall's tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. I kept my head down as I navigated between the tables, my tray balanced carefully in my hands. The familiar weight of invisibility settled around me like a cloak—just another servant moving through the space where the pack's elite gathered for their morning meal.
But invisibility, I'd learned, was a fragile thing.
"Well, well. Look what crawled out of the servants' quarters."
Carla's voice cut through the morning chatter like a blade, and every conversation in the immediate vicinity died. I felt the familiar knot form in my stomach, but I kept walking, hoping she'd lose interest if I didn't react.
"I'm talking to you, Shadow Beta."
The nickname—spoken with such venom—made me flinch. I stopped walking, my knuckles white around the tray's edges. Slowly, I turned to face her.
Carla Winters sat at the head table like a queen holding court, her golden hair catching the morning light in a way that seemed almost supernatural. She was everything I wasn't—powerful, beautiful, born to lead. The future Luna of the Blackmoon Pack, if the rumors were true. Her followers flanked her like a pack of well-groomed wolves, their eyes glittering with anticipation.
"I wasn't aware you were speaking to me, Carla," I said quietly, proud that my voice didn't shake.
"Oh, but I am." She stood gracefully, her movements predatory and deliberate. "You see, I've been hearing some interesting things about you lately."
The knot in my stomach tightened. Had someone seen me at the training grounds? Did she know about my midnight sessions?
"I don't know what you mean," I replied, but even to my own ears, the words sounded hollow.
Carla smiled, and it was like watching a snake bare its fangs. "Don't you? Word is, someone's been playing warrior after dark. Someone who thinks they're more than they actually are."
The blood drained from my face. She knew. Somehow, she knew.
"I think you're mistaken," I managed, but Carla was already moving closer, her pack following like obedient shadows.
"Am I?" She stopped just close enough that I could smell her expensive perfume, see the cruel amusement dancing in her ice-blue eyes. "Because I think someone needs a reminder of exactly where they belong in this pack."
Before I could react, her hand shot out and struck the bottom of my tray. The impact sent my carefully balanced lunch flying—soup splashing across the stone floor, bread scattering like fallen leaves, the metal tray clattering as it hit the ground.
The dining hall fell silent except for the sound of liquid dripping and my own ragged breathing.
"Oops," Carla said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "How clumsy of me."
Her followers laughed—sharp, cruel sounds that echoed off the stone walls. I could feel every eye in the dining hall on me, could sense the mixture of pity and amusement radiating from the watching pack members.
"Clean it up," Carla commanded, her voice carrying the authority of someone born to rule. "That's what you're here for, isn't it? To clean up messes?"
I knelt slowly, my hands trembling as I began gathering the scattered pieces of my meal. The soup had already begun to seep between the stones, creating a sticky mess that would require scrubbing. Each movement felt like swallowing glass, the humiliation burning in my throat.
But beneath the shame, something else stirred. Something dangerous.
Power.
It rose from deep within me like a tide, warm and electric, begging to be unleashed. My healing gift—the forbidden ability that could expose me as something more than human, something that would make me a target for forces far worse than Carla's petty cruelty.
My hands glowed faintly as I touched a piece of broken pottery, the healing energy automatically trying to mend the crack. I jerked my fingers back as if burned, praying no one had noticed.
"Having trouble, Shadow Beta?" Carla's voice was honey-sweet with malice. "Maybe you need some help."
She stepped forward, her designer boots splashing through the spilled soup, and deliberately kicked the scattered bread further across the floor.
"There," she said with satisfaction. "Now you have even more to clean."
The power inside me surged again, stronger this time, demanding release. I could feel it pushing against my carefully constructed walls, threatening to spill out in ways that would destroy everything I'd worked to hide. My vision blurred at the edges, and for a moment, I saw Carla not as the future Luna, but as prey.
The thought terrified me.
I forced myself to breathe slowly, to push the power back down into the depths where it belonged. One slip—one moment of lost control—and I would be exposed. And exposure meant death, or worse.
"Thank you," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
Carla's smile widened. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."
"Thank you," I repeated, louder this time, each syllable a small death.
"Much better." She turned to her followers, her voice carrying clearly across the silent dining hall. "You see? Even strays can be taught proper manners with the right motivation."
More laughter, crueler now, emboldened by my submission.
I continued cleaning in silence, my movements mechanical as I gathered every crumb, every drop. The power continued to pulse beneath my skin like a second heartbeat, a constant reminder of what I was hiding, what I could never let them see.
When I finally stood, my knees aching from kneeling on the cold stone, Carla was still watching me with those predatory eyes.
"Remember this moment, Shadow Beta," she said softly, her voice meant for my ears alone. "Remember who you really are. No amount of midnight training will ever change that."
She knew. She definitely knew.
As she swept away with her entourage, their laughter echoing behind them, I stood alone in the center of the dining hall, clutching my empty tray like a shield. The other pack members had already returned to their conversations, the entertainment over.
But I could still feel their glances, still sense their amusement at my humiliation.
I walked toward the kitchen on unsteady legs, my face burning with shame and something darker. The power inside me had quieted but not disappeared—it never disappeared. It waited, patient and hungry, for the day when I would finally stop running from what I was.
And as I pushed through the kitchen doors, leaving the dining hall behind, I made a silent promise to myself. Carla thought she knew who I was, thought she understood the limits of my strength.
She had no idea how wrong she was.
But someday—someday soon—she would.
