Hazel's POV
Happy birthday to me.
Tomorrow had finally arrived. The day I'd been dreading and secretly hoping for all my life. My eighteenth birthday. The day I might.—feel the stir of a wolf inside me. But that hope was as fragile as a soap bubble. I hadn't slept a wink last night, tossing and turning beneath thin sheets that did nothing to soothe the storm within me. My thoughts wouldn't let me rest, each one clawing at my peace like a desperate prisoner.
And then there was the sound of Natasha's overexcited laughter echoing through the walls, mingling with my other sisters' shrill voices as they celebrated themselves, again. I knew that sound well. It meant new gowns had arrived. And when Selene and the others got new gowns, I got the old ones their castoffs, tossed at me like I was a walking ragdoll with no pride or feeling. It wasn't even noon yet, and I already hated this day.
Then, the door creaked open softly. A tiny presence slipped through, and before I could blink, a small, warm body had wrapped itself around me.
"Happy birthday, big sis," Ariel said, her voice soft and sweet like honeyed tea.
She ran up to me and planted a kiss on my forehead, her blonde hair tickling my cheeks. Before I could say a word, she shoved something warm into my palm.
"I couldn't make a cake," she said, cheeks flushed, "so I did this."
A cookie. Slightly lopsided, a little too crumbly, but perfect in every way that mattered. I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes, hot and unwelcome. No one had ever done anything like this for me. Not even close. I pulled her into a tight hug, burying my face in her soft, clean-smelling hair. Her tiny arms clutched me back with surprising strength.
She looked like her sisters—long blonde hair, pale skin, angelic blue eyes—but she was nothing like them. Ariel had a heart of gold, untouched by the rot that infected the rest of this family.
She pulled back, her big eyes searching mine with a flicker of concern. "Are you sure you don't want to run away?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
I shook my head, a small, shaky smile tugging at my lips. "No, I don't. I might have a wolf somewhere in me."
The words felt heavy in my throat, like I was choking on hope. Ariel's brow furrowed. "But… but you don't have a scent. And if you still don't by the end of today, Father will…"
She trailed off. She didn't need to finish. Her worried expression said it all.
"I know," I murmured, brushing her hair back gently. "But it's not over until it's over, darling."
She fidgeted, twisting a strand of her hair nervously. "Urm… are you starting to feel any weird signs yet? I mean, it's your birthday. You're already eighteen. Maybe the process has begun."
I sighed. She was so clever, too clever for a ten-year-old girl trapped in a house like this.
"Nope," I replied quietly, the word bitter in my mouth. "Nothing."
She sighed too, a mirror of my disappointment.
Then, as if to change the subject, she stood and reached for my hair. "Well, you may not be a werewolf, but you do have fast hair growth."
I blinked. "Has it grown?"
I darted to the cracked mirror hanging loosely on the wall. My breath caught. The mess Natasha had chopped into my hair weeks ago had somehow softened. The length had returned—not all the way, but enough. No longer the jagged, humiliating mess it had been. My hair fell just past my shoulders again.
Ariel beamed behind me, reaching to style it with practiced fingers as she hummed a tune. It was a rare, fleeting moment of peace.
Then the door burst open.
We both flinched and immediately dropped to our knees out of reflex. Selene stood there, framed in the doorway like the villain she truly was. Her presence infected the room with tension. She looked down at Ariel with thinly veiled disgust, her lip curling slightly.
Without a word, Ariel rose and scurried out of the room. She knew the drill. She knew her mother. I stayed kneeling.
Selene sauntered in like she owned the world, her eyes scanning my tiny room with irritation as if the mere existence of my things offended her. Then her gaze landed on me, and a condescending smirk painted her lips.
"Well, congratulations," she said with a dramatic sniff. "Eighteen already."
Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air, and then her eyes narrowed, locking onto me like a hawk. "Still no wolf?"
I didn't answer. My silence was answer enough.
She laughed..a cruel, high-pitched giggle that grated on my nerves. "Your father has given you till sundown to shift. Or else…" Her voice trailed off into another giggle. "At least we'll no longer have a disgrace rooming around us."
I clenched my jaw and nodded, trying to keep my face blank. Inside, I was screaming. She made my skin crawl. That smile of hers smug, fake, dripping venom—God, it made me want to tear her to pieces. One day. One day I would.
Strangling her is on my to-do list. Right under "Get the hell out of this place."
She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway, like she'd just remembered something juicy.
"Oh," she said, her voice practically singing. "Get ready. Your sisters are leaving soon for the Gilbert family gathering, and you'll be tagging along. As their maidservant."
She smirked one last time and disappeared.
I stared after her, the silence she left behind pressing on my chest like a weight.
"Nice one," I muttered bitterly. Even on my birthday. Even on the day I was supposed to discover whether I had a wolf or not, I was still the family disgrace. Still the servant in her own damn story.
My eyes drifted to the small, worn-out satchel resting by the corner of the room. My life, stuffed into one tattered bag. That seemed to be my only option. Go with them, serve them, smile when I wanted to scream. Because the alternative?
I didn't even want to imagine it.
But now… now I had to prepare. Not just physically, but mentally. I had to find a way to keep myself in check. To control the rage that simmered inside me. Because if I lost it—if I really lost it—I might just stab one of them tonight before I run away.
Or tear their heads off…
The day hadn't come.
Yet.