MORANA
Looking at the concern on Julia's face, I lift my trembling hand to cup her cheek. After losing her parents at a young age, Julia grew up with me. Despite being cousins, the bond we share is deeper than blood, closer than sisters.
"Dad will abandon me." I don't explain further, but the way Julia's eyes widen, the way her fingers go still on my arm... she already understands.
Not just once, but too many times to count, I've come close to breaking. Some nights were worse than death, especially when your body bruises too easily and you are constantly treated as trash. A year ago, I had finally made up my mind. I was going to tell Zacreus everything.
But then father's words gutted what little courage I had managed to piece together—
"If anyone finds out what happens inside these walls, you'll take the fall for it. I'll throw you into the wild myself, Morana. You'll become a rogue. And you know what happens to rogues."
The outcasts. The hunted. The ones whose corpses are picked apart by hungry wolves and rumors alike. If I'm cast out, how could I ever stand beside Zacreus? How could I ever be his Luna?
Even if he accepts me, would the Blackbane pack? Would it be worth it for him to sacrifice his name, his rule, and his future for someone like me?
The answer has always been: no. Never.
So I did the only thing I could. I stayed silent. Endured.
I promised myself I would make it until my 18th birthday. Just two more days. And I'd awaken my wolf. I'd find him as my mate. And this prison of a life would finally, finally end.
After Julia leaves, I slump back on the bed and glance down at the moonstone ring on my finger. My father gave it to me half a month ago with one command: never take it off.
Until today, I'd never seen it glow like it did in the Enchanted Forest. Now, beneath the same moonlight, it stays dull. It never sparkles again regardless of how I move it.
I turn it gently, feeling the cool metal press against my sore skin. "If you were alive, Mom," I whisper, "would things have been different?"
The next morning, the usually cold Beta's residence bursts into life as the preparations for my birthday start. Servants shuffle down the halls, arms full of gifts and garlands. There's laughter. Music. It's loud enough to drown screams.
It feels like a festival out there. But the festivity doesn't reach me. I sit in front of my old bronze mirror, carefully applying the new healing salves father tossed at me earlier this morning.
"Nobody should see a scar on you," he said, as if it were a command to the air. "Lest they think I'm the violent kind."
You are the violent kind. I didn't say it, of course. My body was already too bruised to handle the consequences those words might bring.
"Oh my goddess! You're not even dressed yet, Morana!"
The shrill voice pierces the calm before my door slams open. Pain flashes through me from yesterday's injuries.
My father's mistress, Kenna storms in. In one hand, she's balancing a stack of books. In the other, a pile of boxes. She doesn't even pause to knock.nBehind her trails a line of women, their faces carefully blank. Within minutes, my quiet room is suffocating under the weight of luxury—gowns, diamonds, perfumes, makeup, shoes.
And whips. And cuffs. And—
Candles?
I stare.
Kenna laughs. "Oh, those? Trust me, dear. Men like all kinds of things. But when it's your first time, your body might resist. So I brought a little... starter pack."
My breath catches. My heart pounds like I've been punched. Was she going to prepare me for it by trying them on me now?
She looks at my bruises and smirks. "But looking at you now, you'd collapse if we tried anything. Guess we'll stick to the basics and I will just give you the books that list the details."
"I don't need—" I start, but she's already dragging me toward the bed.
"Did Dad ask you to do this?" My voice is sharp, almost panicked. She wouldn't dare humiliate me like this, unless he gave her permission. Yet, I want her to lie. I need her to lie.
My heart drops when Kenna laughs again. "Of course he did. With your weak body, who knows if you'll even shift. You might not be worth anything soon. So your father wants you trained. Properly. Even if you can't be the Luna... you can still be useful."
My stomach lurches. The bile rises. "What do you mean by useful?" I shove at her hand when she grabs my sleeve.
She doesn't answer. Just nods. And two large women move in, holding me down like I'm some animal being measured for slaughter.
"The Alpha's attention won't last forever, you know," Kenna murmurs, her voice silken and cruel. "After a while, you might not catch his interest anymore. So, your father wants you to know the tricks well. Even if you can't be his wife, at least you can be his whore…"
Disgust rolls in my chest and indignant tears prick my eyes yet I don't cry.
"Outline her shoulder. The hips… Too wide… Those thighs too. They are thick…" Kenna commands the servants, "With these measurements, we will make you the prettiest gown, one that can hook his attention right away."
Kenna tosses a pile of books into my lap, "Study these. It will be fine if you can't be his wife. When you want to make a good whore, you have to learn the ways of one. At least he can breed you at convenience when the time comes…"
The door slams behind them. The peace returns to my room but my heart is in chaos. My chest heaves, humiliation coursing in my veins as I stare at the titles: Seduction for Submission, How to Be Bred, The Art of Pleasing.
Is this the fate that awaits someone who cannot shift? My hands tremble. My body hurts. My heart wants to crawl out of my chest and disappear.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror across the room. For a moment, I barely recognize the girl staring back. But then… I think of Zacreus. And through the pain, through the shame, a single thought cuts through it all:
At least, I still have him. Regardless of anything, he will always want me.