The moon was high when Abigail slipped outside, the night air sharp against her skin. The pack house had grown quiet, save for the occasional bark of laughter drifting from the warrior's quarters. She had finished cleaning the dining hall long after the others had gone to bed. Her hands were raw from scrubbing, her nails rimmed with grime.
She moved toward the storage shed, a small wooden building tucked behind the kitchens. It was where she sometimes hid when the weight of the pack house grew too heavy, when she needed air to breathe. Tonight, the shadows called to her more than ever.
As she rounded the corner, voices carried through the night. She froze, her heart hammering, and ducked behind the shed. The voices were low, hushed, but clear enough in the stillness of the hour.
"…such a shame, really," one wolf murmured. Abigail recognized the voice it was from one of the older pack women, Maren. "The girl's hopeless. Orphaned, weak, no wolf of worth. She'll never make a proper mate."
Another scoffed. "Proper mate? Don't make me laugh. Who would claim her? She'll die an omega, alone. That's her fate."
A third voice joined in, bitter and amused. "Sometimes I wonder why the Alpha even allows her to stay. She eats our food, takes up space, and contributes nothing. A burden, that's all she is."
The words sank like stones into Abigail's chest. She pressed her hand against the wall, steadying herself as the familiar sting of humiliation returned.
She shouldn't have listened. She should have turned and walked away. But she couldn't move. Their voices held her there, pinning her to the shadows.
"She has no parents, no lineage," Maren continued, her voice dripping with disdain. "And in a pack like ours, bloodline matters. Our Alpha deserves strength beside him, not weakness."
"Exactly," the other woman agreed. "That's why Selene is perfect. Her family is strong, her wolf powerful. She'll make a fine Luna. Not some scrap-born orphan."
Laughter followed, sharp and cruel.
Abigail bit her lip until it bled, forcing herself not to cry out. Every word cut deeper, carving into wounds that had never healed. She told herself she shouldn't care that she already knew what they thought of her. But hearing it spoken aloud, whispered in the dark as though she wasn't even worth secrecy, was unbearable.
When the voices finally faded into the night, Abigail stayed hidden in the shadows, trembling.
Is this all I'll ever be? she wondered.
She sank to the ground, pulling her knees against her chest. The grass was damp beneath her, soaking through her thin dress, but she didn't move. She let the loneliness wash over her, pressing down like a weight too heavy to bear.
She had grown used to hunger. She had grown used to bruises, to mocking words, to the ache of being invisible. But what she could never get used to was the emptiness the gaping hole inside her where love should have been.
She thought of the families she had seen earlier that evening, gathered at the long tables. Parents leaning close to their children, brothers laughing with sisters, friends whispering secrets to one another. A life she could only watch from afar. A life she ached for but could never touch.
Her throat tightened. She wanted someone to look at her the way those parents looked at their pups. She wanted a voice to call her name with affection. She wanted arms to wrap around her and tell her she wasn't alone.
But in the Silverfang Pack, Abigail was nothing. An orphan. An omega. Scraps for the weak.
She wiped at her eyes, anger sparking through her grief. No, she told herself fiercely. She wouldn't let them define her. She might not have parents. She might not have status. But she had survived every cruel word, every beating, every empty night.
One day, she vowed, she would be more than this. She didn't know how, or when, or what it would look like but she would not remain a shadow forever.
The night wind stirred, brushing her hair across her face. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, the sound mournful yet powerful. Abigail closed her eyes, listening. Her wolf stirred faintly inside her, weak but alive, and for the first time in a long while, she let herself dream.
Dream of a world where she was not whispered about in shadows.
Dream of a world where she was loved.