It was morning, and I had already finished cleaning up, so I simply threw on a red robe over the shorts and singlet I was wearing before heading out.

Many sorcerers had come and gone, each with their futile suggestions. It seemed like they were all just trying to extort money from my father.

Let's see what this one has to say. I hoped I wouldn't lose my temper and slit his throat, as all these fake magicians seemed to be trying to exploit my father's desperation.

As I stepped out of my room, the guards in the hallway immediately bowed, and with each step I took toward them, their legs trembled instinctively. None dared to meet my gaze.

Ignoring them all, I descended to the second floor, where the palace was located. The door was opened for me, and my presence cast a tense atmosphere over the room. Elders and my parents were present, and the sorcerer in crimson robes sat on the floor in the center with his magical tools and paraphernalia.

Without uttering a word, I made my way to the lower throne beside my father and settled in, causing a collective sweat to break out and lumps to form in their throats.

My father cleared his throat and began.

"Please, proceed," my father gestured to the sorcerer, who nodded in acknowledgment before shifting his gaze towards me. He appeared to be an elderly man with a snowy white beard. His eyes bore an unsettling crimson hue, reminiscent of a wild beast, and his fingers bore a collection of ornate rings. I struggled to find a suitable comparison; he simply looked distinct from the other visitors.

In many ways, he resembled an ancient shifter.

Perhaps he held the answers I sought.

"Your parents didn't summon me as they did with the other sorcerers or magicians. I embarked on a long journey to be here, to share the truth before my time is up," he began, and I sneered, wondering why anyone would care about what he had to say.

"Whether you came on your own or at their behest, it matters little to me. Say what you came to say and be gone before I lose my patience!" I snapped, my irritation mounting, and he offered a weak smile.

"There are three types of love, but the most powerful is the kind for which you're willing to live, even if it means accepting the possibility of dying and never seeing your beloved again. You will meet her soon, and she will be the one," he continued, his eyes fixed on mine as he beamed. Instantly, I felt an overwhelming surge of irritation. Who cared about love?

"Can you please leave now before I do something we'll all regret?" I growled, my heart heavy with anger and disgust. The mere mention of the word 'love,' which I despised with every fiber of my being, had the potential to set me off. I didn't care if he had anything else to say; in my eyes, he had nothing but gibberish and utter nonsense to offer.

"I cannot say more. Just know that she will be the one to make you fall in..." He began, but paused, sensing the fury in my eyes. He then smiled at me, and then at my father and mother, before gathering his belongings and taking his leave.

"So, is this the nonsense that brought me here?" I demanded of my mother, who remained silent.

"Don't you think he meant your next mate will break the curse?" My father blurted out, and before I could restrain myself, my hand shot up with a heavy punch aimed at his face. However, one of the guards reacted swiftly, shielding him, and to my astonishment, he collapsed as my blow landed on his chest.

Wide eyes met my shocked gaze, including my own. Had I just nearly killed my own father?

"You shouldn't say that to my face, you know!" I growled, dropping my hand and staring at the unconscious body of the bodyguard. An inner turmoil raged within me, as my inner demonic wolf nearly seized control. The word "mate" was a nightmarish trigger for me, and I loathed hearing it.

"You nearly killed me!!" my father exclaimed in terror, and a sharp pang of guilt shot through me, especially when my mother began to weep.

Just then, a group of young women rushed into the palace, but the moment they saw me, they sprinted away in sheer terror.

"I think it's time to face the reality of leaving this kingdom. I don't belong here. I've taken many lives, and the punishment is banishment, which you couldn't bring yourself to impose because you were afraid of me, Dad. Please, arrange for my exile before I harm more of my own people. It's time to live among the werewolves instead," I spoke, and relief washed over their faces.

It was evident that everyone desired my absence from their lives and from the Kingdom, even though I was the designated heir to the throne. It seemed that I was never meant to be with my own people, as I am a freak.

Hattie's POV

My head throbbed with pain as my hand flailed about, desperately trying to silence the blaring alarm beside my bed. My heavy eyelids reluctantly fluttered open, and I grumbled angrily under my breath. The intrusive noise had yanked me from my slumber so abruptly that I lunged at the accursed device, shutting it off with more force than necessary, as if it were the root cause of my troubles. I yearned to smash it against the floor, but I knew all too well the consequences that would follow such an act.

My bleary eyes traced the room's walls to the slightly ajar window, revealing the first light of dawn. It was far too early for anyone to be up except for me. An audible hiss escaped my lips as I lowered my head, weighed down by the heavy heartache that had gripped me. A surge of both anger and sorrow coursed through my veins, and I battled to hold back tears.

Although it had been just a couple of hours since I had gone to bed, it felt as if mere seconds had passed, given the fatigue that had settled in my bones. I sat on the edge of my bed, leaning against the wall, and yawned repeatedly, rubbing my eyes.

My body protested every movement, yearning for nothing more than to return to the welcoming embrace of sleep. I was too feeble to extricate myself from the bed's gravitational pull. The house was eerily silent, as if it were uninhabited, but appearances were deceiving; everyone else was sound asleep. They were all enjoying their rest while I had been roused at this ungodly hour to tend to household chores, despite being the last to retire for the night.

Another yawn escaped me, and I stretched, wincing as the welts from the previous day's lashings on my upper arms and back throbbed with a fiery sensation. My eyes flicked toward the clock, and I gritted my teeth. It had been over a minute since the alarm had gone off, and I dared not linger in bed, lest I incur the wrath of my stepmother and face a beating for my perceived laziness and disobedience.

The thought of enduring another round of physical punishment, on top of the torment I had suffered the previous day, spurred me into action. Hot tears welled up in my eyes as a pounding headache assaulted me.

My legs ached with sharp spasms, serving as a painful reminder of my frail health. Every inch of my body pleaded for rest, but I knew that was a luxury I couldn't afford. I felt groggy and weighed down, my scrawny legs struggling to support me, while the bed seemed to leer at me, a menacing trap ready to ensnare me.

I sensed my heavy-lidded eyes fighting to close as I grappled to keep them open, caught between exhaustion and the urge to surrender to sleep. All I longed for was the solace of my bed, but I knew better. I was acutely aware of the torment I would invite if I dared to lie down and doze off after the alarm had sounded. The last time I had attempted such defiance, I had been left with an indelible scar on my back from the slash of my stepmother's wolf's claw.

You might be wondering who I am and what I could have done to endure all this suffering. Allow me to introduce myself.

I am Hattie Goleman, the daughter of Alpha King Hugo Goleman, one of the most formidable and feared Alphas among all the packs.

History held a chilling account of his unparalleled military prowess, where victory was a constant companion, and the very pack responsible for his parents' tragic demise during his childhood had met its end at his hands. His growth was marked by an astounding surge in power, rendering him an unstoppable force on the battlefield.

The origins of his enigmatic abilities remained a mystery to all, shrouded in obscurity. His combat skills were as swift as the wind and as elusive as unseen phantoms. His wolf, an embodiment of terror, was infamous for its unrelenting brutality, consuming adversaries with ruthless efficiency.

One would expect that being the sole offspring of his Luna should have bestowed upon me reverence and awe for the rest of my days. However, my fate diverged dramatically from that expected trajectory. Instead, I found myself relegated to the status of a slave, scorned and loathed by everyone, forbidden from mentioning the Alpha as my father or appending his surname to my own.

Inexplicably, I was cast out and stripped of my royal heritage, reduced to a status beneath even the omegas. My father, too, had turned his back on me, publicly disowning me in front of the entire pack, threatening my expulsion. He subjected me to relentless torment, turning my life into a never-ending nightmare. All of this was the consequence of an unimaginable and horrific act I had committed.

I had murdered his mate, the Luna, my own mother. But it had been an act born out of sheer survival. It transpired three years ago when I was a mere 15 years old.

I cannot offer a rational explanation for how I had accomplished such a gruesome deed, driven by an overwhelming power that had inexplicably overtaken me. That fateful night, within the confines of her room, I had brutally ended my mother's life with my bare hands, rending her chest with my claws and consuming her heart, an act that resembled the actions of a bloodthirsty monster.

All I could recall was the emergence of a ferocious, unknown beastly spirit that had risen within me, seizing control of my mind, body, and soul just as my mother had nearly taken my life. It was this strange entity that had saved me from certain death. By the time I had wrested control back, the deed was done, and I had taken the life of the woman who had given me birth. The pack, however, etched into their hearts the belief that I had killed our Luna. They subjected me to brutal torment, weakening my wolf with wolfsbane and stripping me of my royal lineage, relegating me to the lowliest status, that of a slave.

No one cared to hear my side of the story, let alone understand why I had resorted to such a gruesome act. It had been a fight for survival, a desperate struggle against my mother, who had transformed into a bloodthirsty demon, hell-bent on my demise. I had tried to evade her, to escape from that room without causing her harm, but it proved impossible. She was swift, relentless, and intent on ending my life.

I had no choice but to defend myself, and my victory in that battle would not have been possible if not for the extraordinary strength that had surged within me. I remained oblivious to the true nature of that mysterious power that had suddenly awakened within me and how it had manifested from my own body. I had sensed the presence of a strange entity within me, distinct from my own wolf, despite not having reached the age of 16 when the wolf typically awakens. Fueled by this peculiar strength, I had fought back against my mother's demonic possession. This unsettling incident had unfolded while everyone was gathered at the royal palace for the Beta's daughter's birthday, leaving me isolated and in a desperate struggle for survival.

It was a stark and brutal choice: either I fought back and killed her, or I was killed.

I can still recall the moment it all began. My mother had inexplicably summoned me into her room amid the birthday festivities, and I assumed she had a message or something important to convey.

I remained oblivious to the fact that she was already ensnared within the grip of a malevolent enchantment, her sanity slipping away.

"Mommy, why did you bring me into your room?" I had queried, but my question went unanswered. Instead, I watched in growing horror as her eyes darkened and clouded over, while her canines elongated into menacing, razor-sharp fangs.

Fear surged through me, and instinct drove me to make a desperate dash for the door. However, before I could make good my escape, she lunged at me, her claws sinking deep into my back. A piercing scream of pain escaped my lips as agony gripped me. I begged and writhed, struggling to break free from her grasp, but my efforts proved futile. She pinned me down with an eerie gaze, a chilling snarl on her lips, and an unsettling demonic aura emanating from her form.

"Mommy! Mum! What are you...?" I gasped, my voice strangled by terror, while she continued her relentless assault. Her fangs pierced my neck, and she drank my blood, her clawed hand tracing my chest as though searching for my heart.

The excruciating pain overwhelmed me, and my strength waned. My ability to cry out for help or howl in distress dwindled, dissipating like a wisp of smoke. That night, my own mother was on the brink of taking my life, and no one came to my rescue. No one heard my pleas within the confines of that room, as my screams were drowned out by the thunderous rhythm of drums and the festive music celebrating the birthday.

She withdrew her bite from my neck, emitting eerie guttural sounds as her vacant eyes stared into the void.

"You must die for the demons to rule!!" I heard my mother utter, as if an unseen force spoke through her, her words chilling me to the bone.