Chapter 1

“Mummy, why can’t I tell everyone I have a wolf now?” the little girl asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper, laced with wonder and the tiniest edge of disappointment. Her wide hazel eyes shimmered with childlike curiosity as they searched her mother’s face, lashes fluttering.

Her mother’s smile came slowly, gentle and sorrow-tinged. She reached out, fingers threading softly through her daughter’s short, tousled hair—a warm blend of copper and golden brown that caught the morning light like burnished autumn leaves. The girl instinctively ducked her head with a shy, practiced motion, but she didn’t pull away.

“Because, my sunshine,” her mother said quietly, kneeling to meet her eyes, “the only way to keep you safe is to make sure no one ever knows what you are. No one must ever see your wolf.”

The girl’s breath caught for a moment, and she bit her lower lip, nodding solemnly. Her small hands curled into fists at her sides as though the weight of the truth pressed down on her tiny shoulders.

“What’s the one rule you must never break?” her mother asked, her voice soft but firm, each word laced with urgency.

The girl straightened, repeating the words as though they were etched into her bones. “No matter what I do… no matter where I am… even if I’m about to die… no one can ever know or see my wolf. I can’t shift. I have no strength, no speed, and no wolf. Staying alive is the most important thing.”

“Very good,” her mother whispered, her voice trembling as she cupped her daughter’s rosy cheeks between her palms. Her thumbs brushed away a tear that threatened to fall, though her own eyes were already glistening. “Excellent, darling.”

She leaned in and rested her forehead against her daughter’s, her breath warm with the scent of chamomile. “And remember,” she murmured, the words thick with love and aching, “Mummy will always be here to protect you.”

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She lied.

She said she’d always protect me, always be there. But she left. Left me to face this cruel world on my own. The worst part? I know it’s my fault.

If only I’d taken her normal wolf color. If only I hadn’t been… me. She might still be alive. But instead, she went searching—desperately—for a way to fix what I am. She never came back the same. She’s gone and buried.

And I’m alone.

“Sandy! Sandy!” The shrill voice breaks into my thoughts, jerking me back into the present. I lift my head, eyes dragging toward the door. I’m kneeling on the hard wooden floor, scrubbing at a stubborn black stain. Permanent ink—impossible to clean, and yet here I am, still trying. My knees ache, and the acrid scent of cleaning chemicals stings my nose.

“There you are!” Her footsteps patter closer, heels clicking sharply. She scowls when she sees me crouched like a child, my fingers red and trembling from scrubbing. “You’re still trying to clean this?”

I nod slowly, silently.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s called permanent for a reason. Honestly. Whatever those bratty sisters of mine did this time…” She sighs and waves her hand. “Forget it. Stand up. Mother needs you in the kitchen. I’ll deal with the stain—and them—later.”

I rise to my feet slowly, every joint protesting. I nod again, grateful, and bow slightly. Then I slip around the damp floor with practiced ease, keeping my head low.

I never speak. I haven’t in years.

Once, I was reluctant—more of a listener than a talker. But when my mother died, I lost more than her. I lost my voice. And the silence became my shield.

I’ve forgotten how I sound. Forgotten the feel of words on my tongue. Talking only sharpened the pain. So, I stopped. Let them think it’s grief. Let them think what they want. It’s more than grief. It’s absence. A hollow kind of silence no one else understands.

She was the only one who ever wanted to hear me. The only one who ever listened.

Now I’m just the voiceless omega. Labeled weak, wolf-less, and worthless. I’m treated like an animal, but worse. No strength, no speed, no voice—and to them, no wolf. A mute stain on their perfect hierarchy.

Some women whisper I’m a threat to their mates. The jealousy is laughable. And the punishment? Routine. Slaps. Kicks. Punches. Hair torn from my scalp. Starvation masquerading as discipline. But the worst of it is the relentless work. The endless commands. The way they try to grind me down until I’m dust.

Only a few treat us omegas with something resembling humanity: the Luna, the Alpha’s first daughter, and a handful of children. The formers aren’t kind exactly, just… less cruel. I’ve learned to take that as a win.

I make my way to the kitchen. The scent of herbs and boiling meat floods my nose, steam clouding the air. The Luna stands at the center like a conductor, orchestrating chaos. Blonde ponytail swinging behind her, she moves with determined energy, a wooden spoon in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other.

A male omega is kneeling by the counter, hacking away at a slab of meat with a knife far too dull for the job. Sweat beads on his brow. He looks up—eyes lighting up the moment he sees me.

“Thank God!” he breathes, sagging with relief.

The Luna turns, her face brightening. “Sally! Finally. Please save me before I lose my mind!”

If I could speak, I’d correct her. My name isn’t Sally. Or Sandy. Or Sadie. It’s Sapphire. But none of them remember. Just that it starts with S and A. Close enough, I guess.

A faint smile curls at the corner of my lips. Only when she’s in full kitchen mode can she coax that much from me. She’s the only one who understands that the joy of the kitchen belongs solely to me.

“Hey, Maurice, get lost,” she orders the male omega. He rises gratefully and disappears. I step in and immediately get to work. I change the knife—finally—and butcher the meat with efficient, clean cuts. Then I move on to the vegetables, slicing with speed and grace. I handle the pastries myself, because Luna is hopeless at those, and clean as I go, picking up after her whirlwind of a cooking spree.

Once we’re done, she leaves me to set the table and wash the mountain of dishes. I don’t complain. This rhythm, at least, is familiar. Predictable. Safe.

After scrubbing the last pan, I hand over the kitchen to another omega, making sure nothing burns, and head to reset the dining room table. Every placement, every setting, is precise—burned into my memory by the Luna’s barked instructions over the years.

As I finish aligning the last fork, he walks in.

Alpha Junior. One year younger than Eloise and ten times more vile.

His presence makes my skin crawl. In the past, I barely escaped his sexual assault—and those of his pack of wolves—more times than I can count. If not for his sister reporting him, and the Luna’s wrath, I might not be alive.

Now, he has to get his “needs” met from willing omegas. That means most of them. All of them, really. Except me. I’m the only unwilling one—and only barely protected.

“Sabbath,” he drawls, swaggering into the room and flopping into his father’s seat. His boot lands on the edge of the table like he owns the world. “What are you doing?”

I glance at him briefly, then back to the cutlery in my hands. I hold them up, then gesture toward the table. He knows. He just wants a reason.

“Hmmm… What did Mother make for dinner?” I don’t respond. Silence is safer. He despises sign language… doesn’t understand it to begin with.

“Is there meat?”

I nod.

He continue going, pelting me with questions that he knows I won’t answer. He wants a reason to lash out. To grab. To hurt. But I give him none. I finish setting the last place, then step past him.

His hand smacks my ass.

Flinching a bit, I scurry off to the kitchen.

Deep breath.

“I really don’t see why you put up with them,” Zinnia, my wolf, growls inside me.

“How about keeping us alive?” I answer.

“Hmph.” she scoffs, then retreats.

She doesn’t get it. Maybe she does—but that doesn’t change reality. No one knows I have her. As long as I smell human, I’m invisible. And that’s the only reason I’m still breathing. I am fairly lucky. Even though I have a wolf, except if I decide to let her presence be known, I smell completely human.

I still have a little luck left.