They say mistakes run in my bloodline.
It's whispered in the hallways, etched in the way people avert their eyes when I walk past, and shouted through the silence when no one speaks my name. Like mother, like daughter. That was the prophecy they carved into my bones the moment I was born.
My mother was an omega—the lowest of the lowest in the hierarchy of the Bluemoon Pack. A shadow among wolves, a servant in all but name. She was quiet, kind in the way only broken people know how to be, and constantly apologizing for simply existing. Her smile never reached her eyes. And I learned why as I grew older and started to understand the weight she carried.
She had me out of wedlock. Not by love, not even by choice—but by accident, they said. A drunken night she barely remembered. A faceless man whose name she never gave. The pack called her foolish, weak. A disgrace to her rank, as if her rank hadn't already damned her from the start.
And me? I was the living proof of her mistake.
A mistake they never let her forget. A mistake they never let me forget.
I grew up in the shadows of scorn. They didn't need to say much; their looks were enough. The curled lips of disgust when I passed them in the village. The subtle turn of a shoulder when I reached for something someone else wanted. The laughter I wasn't invited to. The words they saved only when my back was turned.
"She's just like her mother."
"Another mouth to feed. Another mistake."
"She'll end up the same—dirty, useless. A bitch in heat waiting for any scrap of affection."
At first, I tried to fight it. I tried to be better. I studied harder than anyone in my year. I trained until my body ached and my bones groaned in protest. I was the first to volunteer for the night shifts, the one who delivered medicine, who helped the elders without being asked. I tried—gods, I tried—to be good enough.
But goodness means nothing in a pack built on bloodlines.
I didn't have one worth mentioning.
So, I learned to hide. I made myself small. I tucked myself into corners and quiet places where no one would look for me, where the sharp edges of the world couldn't find me as easily. I listened more than I spoke. I became invisible, a whisper in the wind.
And for a while, it worked. I wasn't happy, but I was safe. That was enough.
Until the night Alpha Jacob Hades came to Bluemoon.
His name was already a legend before he ever stepped into our territory. Alpha of the infamous Wolf Fang Pack—a brutal, powerful kingdom built on dominance and fear. He was a warrior, a strategist, a man who had carved his name into history with blood and fire. It was said he'd turned entire packs to ash for betrayal, and yet he ruled with the kind of control that made lesser wolves obey without question.
He came seeking alliances. Power. Strength. A mate.
And the moment he entered the Great Hall, everything changed.
He didn't speak right away. He didn't have to. His presence alone sucked the air from the room. The Alphas of our pack bowed their heads before he even spoke a word. Warriors—men twice his age and thrice his size—lowered their eyes to the ground. He wore silence like a weapon and authority like a second skin. And his scent—gods, his scent—it cut through the room like wild spice and storm clouds.
I should have left. I should have kept to the shadows, as I always had.
But I didn't.
Maybe I was curious. Maybe I was tired of hiding. Or maybe… fate had already decided what was to come.
When his eyes found mine, the world shifted.
It wasn't just a glance—it was a collision. My wolf surged forward before I could stop her. My heart slammed against my ribs, and heat rolled over me like a tidal wave. A wrong kind of heat. A primal, raw ache that screamed through my blood. My body knew before I did—something dangerous had been awakened.
I stumbled back, breathless. My limbs trembled. My skin burned with the intensity of it, my throat dry with hunger I didn't understand.
I ran.
Out of the hall. Out into the forest. Into the darkness that had always been my only friend.
But I wasn't alone.
He followed.
I don't know how he moved so fast, how he caught me without a sound. One moment, I was gasping under the moonlight; the next, I was in his arms. His grip was fire, his touch consuming. I fought the instinct to fall into him, to surrender to the pull of the bond that had no name, no explanation—only need.
His mouth found mine, fierce and claiming. His hands explored as if he were mapping something sacred. I was a nobody, a mistake, a shadow.
But in his arms, I was fire.
That night, I gave in to something wild and unnamed. I let myself believe—just for a moment—that I was more than what they said I was. That I wasn't a burden, or a mistake, or a broken echo of my mother's shame.
I was wanted.
I was his.
And for those few hours beneath the stars, he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
But dawn always comes. And with it, the truth.
He wouldn't even meet my eyes the next morning. His expression was hard, unreadable. Where there had been fire, now there was frost. Where there had been possession, now there was disgust.
He left without a word.
Not even a glance back.
I told myself it meant nothing. That maybe it had just been a heat-triggered mistake. I would survive. I always did. I would bury it like I had buried every other wound life had given me.
But a month later, my body betrayed me.
I was sick in the mornings. I was sensitive to scents, to sound, to light. My wolf felt… different. Protective. Guarded.
I knew before the healer confirmed it.
I was pregnant.
With an Alpha's child.
I should have told someone. But how could I? Who would believe me? Who would care? I had already been branded a mistake. What would they call me now?
So I kept it secret. I wore loose clothes. I took longer shifts away from the village. I stopped seeing the healer, avoided anyone with a sharp nose or sharper words. But secrets don't last in a pack. Not when wolves can scent fear and truth in the same breath.
Eventually, they found out.
And so did he.
Jacob came for me.
He didn't ask. He didn't wait. He stormed into Bluemoon territory like he owned it, like I was nothing more than a possession he had momentarily misplaced.
I ran.
I tried so hard to run, to hide, to disappear into the wilds. I thought if I could just make it across the border, maybe I could find a quiet place where my child could be safe—where I could be safe.
But Alphas don't lose what's theirs.
He found me.
He didn't whisper comfort or speak of responsibility. He grabbed me like prey caught in his jaws. His voice was cold steel, his eyes devoid of anything human.
"You're carrying my heir," he said. "You belong to me now."
No one stopped him. Not the elders. Not my mother. Not the wolves who had watched me grow up, who had whispered about my mother's sins and now watched them repeated in me.
I was traded like livestock—given to Wolf Fang Pack to secure the alliance they needed.
And so I was handed over.
Like a gift. Like an offering.
I begged him. I fell to my knees, clutched his hand, begged for understanding—for any scrap of mercy he might have left in him.
But there was none.
He looked at me as though I were filth beneath his boots, something he regretted touching.
"You were a mistake," he said. "But the child changes everything. That child is mine… and so are you."
And in that moment, everything fell away.
I was no longer just the pack's shame.
I was his prisoner.
His curse.
And there was no escape.
I am Elira Winslow and this how mylife turns to be.