Skylar's POV

"Happy Birthday!" My mom's voice rang out.

I blinked in surprise. Today was my eighteenth birthday. How had I forgotten? Four years ago, my life took a drastic turn when I first realized what I was—a rare and powerful breed of werewolf known as the Nightshade Lycan.

The Nightshade Lycan were the stuff of legends, feared for their unmatched strength, speed, and intellect. But without a mate to ground them, to share the burden of their immense power, they were vulnerable—prime targets for rogue werewolves who harbored a deep hatred for our kind. Not only rogues, but we were vulnerable to almost everyone because our flesh and blood could extend someone's life threefold. Anyone would kill to live longer. I say "our kind," but as far as I knew, I was the only one left.

The only ones who knew the truth were my parents and our pack's Alpha, Amir. To the rest of the world, I was Skylar—an omega who hadn’t shifted yet, two years overdue and considered the weakest link in our pack. My disguise was both a shield and a curse. It protected me from the wrong kind of attention but also made me the target of constant ridicule and bullying.

Grayson, the Alpha's son, was the worst of them all. He made it his mission to remind everyone of my supposed inferiority. "Skylar the Shifter-less Omega," he'd sneer, rallying the other pack members to join in his taunts. I could handle the name-calling and the whispers behind my back, but the physical abuse was something I had never gotten used to.

As I walked down the hallway, I kept my eyes low, avoiding the sneering gazes of my classmates. Upon reaching my locker, I hurriedly unloaded the books I didn’t need for my upcoming classes. My hands moved quickly, trying to finish the task before someone noticed me. I was just about to pick up my bag from the ground when I felt it—a sudden, brutal yank on my hair.

Pain exploded in my skull as my head was slammed against the metal locker. The impact left a dent in the door and a spray of blood across the cold surface. I crumpled to the floor, clutching my throbbing head as Grayson and Jaxon, stood over me, laughing.

"Oops, didn’t see you there, Skylar!" Grayson sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Jaxon just chuckled, a low, cruel sound that echoed down the hallway.

"Guess you should watch where you're going, omega," Jaxon added, his eyes gleaming with malice.

They walked away, still laughing, leaving me alone in the corridor. The pain was intense, but I knew it would only take a few minutes for my wound to heal—too fast for an omega, but I couldn’t let them see that. I had to maintain the facade, the lie that kept me safe, if only marginally. I pressed my fingers to my scalp, feeling the warm, sticky blood matting my hair.

I had one friend in the world—Leon. He was the only person who didn’t treat me like trash. But Leon tended to vanish, disappearing without a word and reappearing just as suddenly. He never explained where he went, and I never asked. Until now, there were still times I thought he was the biggest mystery. And yet, I knew, if he were here, he would have stood up for me. He would have gotten between me and those monsters, despite his own lack of strength.

I wondered where he was now.

"Just perfect," I muttered to myself, dragging my bag up from the floor.

I quickly made my way to the bathroom, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. The last thing I needed was for anyone else to see me in this state. I locked the door behind me and tossed my bag onto a cabinet. With trembling hands, I turned to the mirror.

A small cut above my left eyebrow stared back at me, blood still trickling down my temple. I sighed. This was becoming far too familiar. Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out my makeshift first-aid kit. It used to be just a makeup kit, but after years of bullying, it had evolved into something more.

I cleaned the wound as best as I could, wincing as the antiseptic stung the open cut. The healing had already started, but it would still take a few more minutes. I couldn't afford to walk around school with a rapidly closing wound—it would raise too many questions. So, as I waited, I pulled out my makeup and started applying a false wound. It had to look real, convincing enough to fool anyone who bothered to check.

I slumped down next to the sink, my back against the cool tiles. Today was my birthday, and yet, it was just another day in my living nightmare. No one had wished me well. No one even seemed to remember. It was as though I didn't exist.

Why was I allowing this? I thought to myself. Why am I letting them treat me like this?

But deep down, I knew why. This was the price I had to pay to stay hidden, to protect myself from the dangers that lurked outside. If they knew what I truly was, if they knew the power I held, I would be hunted, captured, and used as a tool or weapon—or worse, killed.

I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.

Skylar's POV

The reflection in the mirror reflected my emotions. My eyes, usually a muted grey, were blazing with a vibrant bluish silver, a telltale sign of the anger simmering just beneath the surface. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to take deep, steadying breaths. Slowly, the bluish silver faded, until all that was left were my usual, unassuming grey eyes.

I couldn't afford to lose control. Not here. Not now.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and I stiffened. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't heard anyone approach. The door creaked open, and one of my classmates, Lydia, poked her head inside.

"Skylar, there you are," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Mr. Lawson asked me to find you. He wants to see you in his office."

I frowned. Mr. Lawson was my history teacher, one of the few who didn't treat me like an outcast. But why would he want to see me now? I was one of the top students in his class—what could he possibly need to discuss with me?

"Did he say why?" I asked, my voice cautious.

Lydia shook her head. "No, he just said it was important. You should probably hurry; you know how he gets when people are late."

That much was true. Mr. Lawson hated tardiness, and I wasn't in the mood to get on his bad side. I nodded and gathered my things, shoving them back into my bag.

"Thanks, Lydia," I muttered as I passed her, heading for the office.

The hallways were empty; everyone else was already in class. My footsteps echoed off the walls, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence. As I approached Mr. Lawson's office, I noticed the door was slightly ajar, a faint light spilling out into the hallway.

I hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open.

The first thing I noticed was the smell—a sharp, chemical scent that made my nose wrinkle. The second thing I noticed was that the office was completely empty. No Mr. Lawson, no papers strewn across the desk, just a small, plastic bucket perched precariously on the edge of the door.

Before I could process what was happening, the bucket tipped over, and a thick, cold liquid rained down on me. I gasped, stumbling backward as the liquid soaked through my clothes, dripping onto the floor in thick, oily splatters.

It took a moment for the shock to wear off, for me to realize what had just happened.

Oil paint.

They had dumped oil paint on me.

Laughter erupted from behind me, and I whirled around to see Grayson and his gang standing in the hallway, doubled over with mirth. Lydia, who was with Audrey, was there too, a smirk playing on her lips as she watched me struggle to wipe the paint from my face.

"Look at the little omega," Grayson sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Did you really think Mr. Lawson wanted to see you? You're not even worth his time."

My heart pounded in my chest, fury surging through me. I could feel my eyes shifting again, the bluish silver threatening to break free, but I forced it down. Not here. Not in front of them.

"Grayson, you bastard," I spat, my voice trembling with barely restrained rage. "You think you can keep doing this to me? You think there won't be consequences?"

Grayson's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly masked it with a mocking grin. "What are you going to do, Skylar? Run to your daddy? Cry to the Alpha?"

The other boys laughed, echoing Grayson's taunts.

I took a step forward, my hands trembling with the effort to keep myself in check. "You'll regret this, Grayson. I swear to you, you'll pay for it all. You'll someday wish you never crossed me."

For a moment, the hallway was silent, the air thick with tension. Grayson's eyes narrowed, his amusement replaced with something darker, more dangerous.

"You think you can threaten me?" He hissed, stepping closer until he was inches from my face. "You're nothing, Skylar. You're just a pathetic, weak little omega who can't shift, and you'll always be beneath me."

Before I could react, his hand shot out, gripping my throat and slamming me against the wall. My vision blurred as the pressure on my windpipe increased, and I struggled to breathe, my hands clawing at his iron grip.

I gasped for air but his strength was too much. I could feel my eyes getting blurry.

"You think you're special?" Grayson whispered, his voice cold and cruel.

My vision darkened, spots dancing before my eyes as my oxygen supply dwindled.

In a last, desperate attempt, I reached out with my mind, sending a frantic call through the pack link.

"Alpha Amir... please... help me."

The seconds stretched into an eternity, each one bringing me closer to the edge of consciousness. Just as I thought I would black out, the door to the office burst open with a thunderous crash.

"Grayson! Enough!" Alpha Amir's voice roared through the small room, filled with authority and anger.

Grayson's grip on my throat loosened instantly, and I collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. My vision slowly cleared, and I looked up to see Alpha Amir standing over Grayson, his expression a mixture of fury and disappointment.

"Leave. Now," Amir commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Grayson hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering between me and his father. But the look on Alpha Amir's face brooked no argument. With a scowl, Grayson turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, his lackeys trailing behind him.

Once they were gone, Alpha Amir knelt beside me, his anger melting into concern. "Skylar, are you alright?"

I nodded weakly, still struggling to catch my breath. The fear and adrenaline coursing through me made it hard to think, hard to focus on anything other than the fact that I was still alive.

"I'm so sorry, Skylar," Alpha Amir said, his voice thick with guilt.

"It's not your fault," I croaked, my voice hoarse from the strain.

Alpha Amir's expression darkened. "You did nothing wrong. This is on him, not you. I'll make sure to punish him."

I was too exhausted, too drained from the ordeal to muster the energy. All I could do was nod as Alpha Amir helped me to my feet.

The ride home was a blur, my mind numb and body aching. When I finally stumbled through the front door, my dad was there to greet me, his face pale with worry.

"Skylar, what happened?" he asked, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Why are you covered in paint?"

Instead of me, Alpha Amir explained everything and apologized. Upon hearing the truth, my father and mother hugged me. My wounds were already healing but the trauma I got from the abuse was too much.

My dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry, darling. If I could, I'd make him pay for every torment he's put you through. I hate that I have to protect you from the world by making you hide your true self. And I'm truly sorry this happened on your birthday."

He pulled me into another hug, and for a moment, I allowed myself to lean into his comfort, to let go of the weight I carried on my shoulders. But it couldn't last. Eventually, he pulled away, giving me a sad, resigned smile.

I just have to endure for five more months.

Skylar's POV

My father's fury was something to behold. It had taken every ounce of effort from both my mom and me to prevent him from tearing Grayson to pieces. A part of me, the darker part, wouldn’t have minded if he had. Grayson deserved everything that was coming to him.

Meanwhile, word had spread quickly, as it always does in the pack, that Grayson had been publicly chastised by his father, Alpha Amir, in front of the entire pack.

For an Alpha's heir, such a public rebuke was a humiliation of the highest order, one that could cripple a wolf's spirit. Wolves were prideful creatures, and to be shamed in such a way often caused their inner beasts to retreat, abandoning their human counterparts in silent protest. Grayson's wolf must be unresponsive now, leaving him vulnerable and furious.

'Serves the ignorant jerk right...'

'Keira! No profanity. What have I told you about this?' I reprimanded my wolf.

'Apologies, Skylar, but admit it. He is one, isn't he?' Keira shot back, her tone rebellious yet playful.

I couldn't help but laugh. Keira was my wolf spirit, the part of me that refused to be cowed by anyone or anything. She was fierce, unafraid to speak her mind, and never took anything too seriously—a trait I envied.

'No, Skylar. You don’t need to be more like me. You are already like me. We are one, remember? You possess that feisty spirit, just waiting for the right moment to unleash it. Trust me,' Keira's voice echoed in my mind.

Breakfast time.

My parents’ eyes were filled with remorse as they glanced at me over breakfast. The guilt in their expressions was heartbreaking. They blamed themselves for my situation, even though they had done everything they could to protect me. It wasn’t their fault—my fate had been sealed long before I was born, and nothing they did could change that.

"Are you alright, love?" My mother asked, her voice trembling slightly. I could see the worry etched into her features, the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights.

"I'm fine, Mom," I lied, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about me."

But they did worry. Every day, they watched as the pack's disdain grew, as the hatred directed toward me intensified. I was the girl who had caused Grayson, the future Alpha, disgrace, the girl who had brought shame to the entire pack by not being able to shift.

Their probing stares, filled with venomous disdain, were something I had grown accustomed to. It didn't matter who and what I was; to them, I was an outcast, a perfect target for their contempt.

I pulled the sleeves of my oversized sweater down further, making sure it covered my hands completely. The smell of cheap perfume clung to me, an overpowering scent meant to mask my true identity as a Nightshade Wolf. I had become adept at hiding who I was by faking Omega scent, and also by using loose clothing to conceal myself. Even at school, I kept my head down, hoping to avoid any more confrontations. I was grateful enough that even though life was hard there, Leon would always make it a little better.

But today, I wasn't so lucky.

Audrey, Grayson's girlfriend, sauntered over to where I was sitting, her entourage of mean girls in tow. She was the epitome of everything I despised—shallow, cruel, and utterly convinced of her own superiority. Another name to add to the ever-growing list of tormentors who seemed to derive endless pleasure from making my life miserable.

"How dare you show your face here?" Audrey's voice was shrill, cutting through the chatter of the other students. "Everyone hates you for what happened to Grayson. You absolute witch!"

I looked up, meeting her gaze with as much indifference as I could muster. Audrey’s words were meant to wound, but I was past the point of feeling hurt.

"Is there something you need, Audrey?" I asked, my voice calm despite the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You need to disappear, Skylar. Grayson was humiliated because of you! How does it feel to be the most hated person in the pack?"

"I wouldn’t know," I replied, shrugging. "But you’re giving me a good idea of how it feels to be the most pathetic."

Audrey’s face flushed red with anger, but before she could respond, the bell rang, signaling the start of our next class. I didn’t wait for her to spit out whatever venomous retort she had prepared. Instead, I gathered my things and walked away, leaving her fuming.