Chapter 2

Althea staggered to her feet, wiping her tears with trembling hands. The echo of her father’s words still rang in her ears, but she forced herself to move, forced herself to function. She couldn’t afford to fall apart,not now.

As she straightened, her gaze fell to the reflection in the polished wood of the elders’ chamber door. Her limp was obvious, even in the blurry outline. The uneven rhythm of her steps, the stiffness in her left leg,it was something she could never hide, no matter how much she wanted to.

Her stomach twisted, and she quickly looked away.

It was the scars, though, that haunted her the most.

The pale, jagged lines crisscrossed the length of her left leg, up her thigh, and over her knee. They weren’t fresh,the accident had been years ago,but the memories they carried never faded. When she thought of them, all she could hear was the sound of water crashing around her, her mother’s panicked voice, and the silence that followed.

She pressed her lips together, biting back the self-loathing that rose like bile in her throat.

“It’s just a leg,” she whispered to herself, the words trembling. “Just a leg.”

But it wasn’t just her leg, was it? It was her wolf, too.

Her wolf, which had always felt weak. Wrong.

A soft knock startled her from her thoughts. One of the other kitchen boys peeked in through the door. “Althea, Lady Vera wants you in the main hall. She says the Alpha’s son needs more wine.”

Althea flinched, instinctively taking a step back. “But I—”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” The boy shrugged and disappeared before she could say anything else.

Althea's heart sank. The last thing she wanted was to go back into the hall, back into the center of the celebration where eyes might linger on her. She didn’t belong there.

But Vera's orders weren’t optional.

Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her skirts and limped toward the hall.

The noise hit her like a wave as soon as she entered. Laughter and music mingled with the chatter of the pack’s elite, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the festivities.

Althea kept her head down, weaving through the crowd as quietly as possible. She could feel the ache in her leg with every step, a sharp reminder of her limp.

Don’t look at me. Don’t notice me.

She moved to the far end of the room, where a group of young wolves had gathered near the Alpha’s son. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling effortlessly into place. His presence radiated strength, and his laughter boomed louder than anyone else’s.

Althea hesitated, clutching the wine bottle so tightly her knuckles turned white.

You’re invisible, she told herself. Just serve the wine and leave. They won’t even notice you.

She approached the table slowly, her steps faltering as her limp made the glasses on her tray rattle. The sound was barely audible over the music, but it felt deafening to her ears.

One of the young women at the table noticed her first. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she took in Althea's hunched posture, her plain dress, her uneven gait.

“Who’s that?” the woman asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Probably just a servant,” another girl replied with a dismissive wave.

“She looks—”

“Althea!” Vera's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “For goodness’ sake, stop stalling. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Althea's face burned as the entire table turned to look at her.

The Alpha’s son leaned back in his chair, his piercing green eyes scanning her from head to toe.

“What happened to your leg?” he asked suddenly.

The question hit her like a blow. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t find the words to answer.

“Her leg is none of your concern,” Vera said smoothly, stepping forward to place a hand on the young man’s arm. Her tone was light, but her glare at Althea was anything but. “She’s just clumsy. Always has been. Now, Althea, pour the wine and leave.”

Althea nodded quickly, keeping her head low as she filled the glasses in front of her.

Her scars prickled under their gazes, and she felt as though she were being peeled apart, layer by layer.

“Hurry up,” Vera hissed. “You’re as slow as a snail. Honestly, why I keep you around is beyond me.”

The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it was enough. Enough to make Althea feel small, like the air had been sucked from the room.

She finished pouring and hurried away, the limp in her step more pronounced as the ache in her leg grew sharper.

Back in the quieter corner of the hall, Althea pressed her back against the wall, trying to steady her breathing. She could still hear their words, their laughter, echoing in her mind.

“Clumsy.”

“Slow.”

“Pathetic.”

Her hand moved instinctively to her thigh, where the fabric of her dress covered the scars she hated so much.

She closed her eyes, her breath hitching.

She felt her wolf stir deep within her, a quiet, hesitant presence she had tried so hard to ignore. It was weak,just like her. It always had been. Even when she was a child, it had struggled to keep up with the other wolves.

“What’s the point?” she whispered to herself, tears stinging her eyes. “What’s the point of being a wolf if I can’t even... if I can’t...”

Her voice broke, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.

You don’t deserve to be a wolf.

That thought was louder, sharper, more final.

Her wolf whimpered in the back of her mind, and she pushed it further down, further away.

“Althea.”

Her father’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. She turned to see him standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his expression cold.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Standing here, sulking like a child. Do you think this is acceptable?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Save it,” he snapped, cutting her off. “If you have time to cry, you have time to work. Or is even that too much for you?”

Althea bit her lip, nodding quickly. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Stop apologizing,” he said sharply. “It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix anything. And it certainly doesn’t bring her back.”

Her heart sank, and she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over.

“You’re pathetic,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Just like your mother always said you would be.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him, her chest aching with the weight of his words.

“She didn’t—”

“She did,” he said, his voice colder than ice. “And she was right.”

He turned and walked away without another word, leaving her standing there, shattered.

Althea leaned back against the wall, her tears falling freely now. She didn’t bother wiping them away.

She glanced at the grand hall, the laughter and music seeming louder than ever, and then at the door leading to the quiet night outside.

For a moment, the urge to run was overwhelming.

But where would she go?

What was the point of running when the thing she hated most,herself,would always follow?

Her wolf whimpered again, and she shoved it down, burying it beneath her shame and anger and despair.

She closed her eyes, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

This is my life. This is who I am.

She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere.

The pack celebrated late into the night, but Althea stayed in the shadows, silent and unseen.

And that was exactly how she wanted it.