The jarring sound of the alarm clock was abruptly silenced as it met with an unintended forceful blow. The remnants of the timepiece were scattered across my bedside cabinet and floor, a stark reminder of my latent strength. I sat up reluctantly, dismissing the covers off the bed. Monday mornings, truly a universal dislike, weren't they?

Trying to clear my foggy mind, I looked as lively as a zombie. I managed to drag myself out of bed, shower, blow-dry my hair, and brush my teeth. I threw on my day's clothing—baggy jeans, an oversized top, a loose jumper, and trainers. My hair was twisted into a neat bun and minimal make-up applied. I gazed into the mirror at my reflection.

The sight was disheartening. An eighteen-year-old girl, whose once sparkling eyes were now dull grey and lackluster. The baggy clothing concealed her fit and attractive figure. This was me—the girl lost within her own attire. This camouflage was my protection for the past four years, marking me distinct from the rest of the pack and subjecting me to ridicule. Underneath the light makeup, the remnants of a black eye from a locker slam incident were still barely visible.

Isn't my life a ball of joy?

Grabbing my pre-packed school bag, I descended the stairs, dropping the bag near the front door. My breakfast awaited me on the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal paired with a cup of tea. As I began eating, my mum entered the kitchen, greeting me with a warm hug.

"Happy Birthday!" she beamed.

I had entirely forgotten. Today marked my eighteenth birthday—four years since my life took a turn for the worse as a Wilford Wolf. Without a mate, despite our strength, speed, and intellect, we are potential prey for rogue werewolves who bear an intense grudge against our kind. I say "we", even though I'm the only one. The only ones in the know are my parents and our pack's Alpha.

"Thanks, mum," I managed to mutter, my voice devoid of cheer.

"Darling, please try to lighten up. It's your birthday, and I can't bear seeing you unhappy," my mum implored.

"I'm sorry," I replied, "Where's dad?"

"He's meeting with the Alpha. They had some business to discuss," she answered.

She handed me a birthday card with £100 tucked inside. I thanked her, glancing at the time and realising I needed to leave. Raindrops were falling outside, so I slipped on my raincoat and shoes, slinging my bag over my shoulders. I stepped into the rain, pulled the hood over my head, and set off to school.

I was prepared for an onslaught of teasing today. As per common knowledge, I was yet to shift, two years overdue, and was treated poorly for this delay. As I was halfway to school, the rain intensified, creating puddles alongside the road. The rhythmic sound of the droplets hitting the pavement filled the air as I kept my head low to shield my face from the rain.

Just as things seemed to be routine, they worsened. A massive puddle lay beside the pavement as I heard a car accelerating from behind. The driver honked, causing me to turn just in time to see the car splashing into the puddle, drenching me in water. I recognised Griffin's car as he sped away. The Alpha's son, the main instigator, was the reason for my widespread ostracisation.

I sighed, shivering in the cold March weather of England. I continued to school, now even more of a spectacle. The entire school, exclusive to my pack, was well aware of my predicament. The laughter and sneakers filled the air as I hurried inside.

The familiar chorus of taunts, the stinging insults, the hateful comments echoed around me. The torment they inflicted was profound, yet I never allowed my emotions to surface. Despite the pain, my emotions remained locked away. I recalled a time when these hallways were friendly, when greetings were exchanged instead of harsh words, a time when popularity wasn't dictated by the Alpha and his followers. Those days were a distant memory.

Upon reaching my locker, I quickly unloaded the books I didn't need for my upcoming classes. With a sigh, I locked the locker and was about to pick up my bag from the ground when I felt a sudden, brutal force. A hand gripped my hair and my head was slammed against the locker, leaving a small dent and a spray of blood across the locker door. I crumpled to my knees, clutching my throbbing head. Griffin and Lewis' laughter echoed in the hallway as they left me alone.

"Just perfect," I muttered to myself.

Although my wound would heal in a few minutes, to maintain the facade of being an omega, it had to seem as though it would take at least a day to heal. I swiftly grabbed my bag and dashed into an often-empty girls' bathroom. I secured the door behind me, tossed my bag onto a cabinet, and examined my reflection. There was a cut just above my left eyebrow.

Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out my make-up kit, which now doubled as a first-aid kit. I was no stranger to this routine. I meticulously cleaned the blood from my face and around the cut. I disinfected the area and could already see it starting to heal. Unfortunately, that meant skipping my first-period class to allow the healing process to complete before reapplying a false wound with make-up.

With a sigh, I reflected on my birthday morning - already injured, and I doubted they even remembered my birthday. I slumped down next to a sink. Why was my life so complicated? Why had the Moon Goddess selected me for this unique path? Why was I different?

Hunched over my schoolwork, I found myself gnawing on my pen as I drafted a history essay about Nazi Germany.

"The Treaty of Versailles spurred the rise of the Nazi Party due to German resentment towards the democratic government..." I murmured, forming my conclusion.

History was a subject I enjoyed. Noticing it was five minutes before the end of the period, I hastily packed my things. The cut was fully healed, so I got to work creating a realistic-looking injury, concealing yesterday's bruise and adding a couple of butterfly stitches. Why was I allowing this? Why was I letting them treat me like this?

Seeing my eyes flare to a vibrant silver in the mirror, the hallmark of my anger, I took a deep breath and slowly returned them to their usual grey. Packing up my make-up kit into my bag, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way to my History class. If I was the first to arrive, I could avoid Griffin.

Unfortunately, Griffin and his cronies were in the same class. By the time the bell rang, I was already at the classroom door, retreating to my usual spot in the back corner.

To my surprise, neither Griffin nor his gang showed up. Perhaps they were occupied with some pack business. Either way, their absence meant I was free from torment, at least for this period. Halfway through the class, while I was busily taking notes, a knock interrupted us. A year seven student handed a note to the teacher before promptly exiting. The teacher read the note.

"Gianna, you're needed in your art classroom immediately, regarding your coursework. Please leave your essay on the desk," the teacher instructed.

In a hurry, I gathered my belongings and exited the classroom, dropping my history essay on the desk as I left. I was puzzled, wondering why my art teacher would want to see me considering I consistently achieved top grades on all my pieces.

Making my way through the hallways, I arrived at the art classroom, knocked and entered. I placed my bag near the teacher's desk, but there was no sign of him. Why would he call me here and not show up? Then I heard it-the audible breathing of five individuals.

Inhaling deeply, I recognized Griffin's distinct scent, a mixture of woodland and alpha dominance. Realization dawned on me - it was a set-up, a trap. Hastily, I tried to retreat to the door only to find Lewis blocking it, smirking. I backed away and was suddenly pelted with water balloons filled with various paint colors. As the onslaught continued, paint ran down my hair, forcing it to slip out of its bun and splattering over my face. Once the barrage ceased, I lowered my hands to find them laughing hysterically.

"Just look at you. Much improved," Griffin sniggered.

Seething with anger, I lowered my head, knowing my eyes were likely shifting color.

"How dare you? I despise you, Griffin. You'll rue this day, every bruise and cut you've inflicted. I promise you, your life will become unbearable. I LOATHE YOU. I despise all of you," I finished my tirade, calming myself.

I could feel my eyes reverting back to their normal shade. Suddenly, I was hurled against the wall behind me. I gasped as the wind was knocked out of me. Griffin was charging at me, his eyes pitch black. He seized me by the neck with both hands, lifting me off the ground. Pressed against the wall, his grip tightened, making me squeal.

Should I retaliate with my powers? Should I shove him away? No, he wouldn't kill me, I just needed to endure. As my airway constricted, I began to gasp for air, feebly attempting to loosen his grip. The burning sensation in my throat intensified, my gasps becoming more desperate. He looked furious as his grip tightened further. The agony and burning sensation escalated, my body instinctively fighting for survival. My vision started to blur, black spots appearing.

"Griffin. Release her. You don't want her blood on your hands. Your father would never forgive you, regardless of her disrespect," Lewis intervened calmly.

My vision worsened, black spots outnumbering the clear areas. I continued to gasp, each effort futile. As darkness encroached, I felt myself slide down the wall, collapsing onto the floor before blackness consumed me...

When I regained consciousness, I was still lying on the art room floor, surrounded by pools of paint that had dripped from me. No one had bothered to help me. I dragged myself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. My throat was incredibly sore, and touching it caused intense pain. It had been two hours, and the pain hadn't subsided-this was a serious injury.

I crawled to my bag, surprisingly free from paint, and hastily wiped the remaining wet paint from my hand. Retrieving my phone, I dialed Alpha Kendrick.

"Gia. Are you okay?" Kendrick's concerned voice came over the line.

"Alpha. Help me," I rasped.

"Hold on. I'm on my way," He responded, hanging up.

I crawled back to the wall, leaning against it. My voice was hoarse, and I could barely speak. Time crawled by until the door burst open. Kendrick assessed the situation, his eyes widening at the sight of me.

Kneeling in front of me, he lightly touched my neck, causing me to wince. His eyes filled with a range of emotions, shifting from care to a stormy black as his rage ignited.

"I'll make him pay. How could he do such a thing to a fellow pack member? I've taught him better. He almost took your life," Kendrick grumbled with seething anger.

As if I were weightless, Kendrick scooped me into his arms. He slung my bag over his shoulder, deftly navigating us out of the school unnoticed. He gently placed me in the backseat of his car and drove me home. Upon reaching my house, he lifted me once more, carrying me up to the front door. As the door swung open automatically, I saw my dad's worried gaze.

He carefully handed me over to my dad, giving my bag to my mum.

"She needs to clean off the paint and rest. Her neck and throat need to heal. I won't let him escape punishment. This is a step too far," Kendrick declared with a venomous tone.

My dad responded with a solemn nod, watching as Kendrick sprinted to his car and sped off. It seemed Griffin was in for some retribution. Giving me a tender kiss on the forehead, my dad carried me upstairs and gently set me down in the bathroom. I stood there, my feet wavering.

"I'm so sorry, darling. If I could, I'd make him pay for the torment he's put you through. I regret the necessity of protecting you from rogue attacks and I'm truly sorry this happened on your birthday," my dad whispered sorrowfully.

After sharing a comforting hug, my dad left me alone. I took a shower, watching the paint rinse off and swirl down the drain. Afterwards, I slipped into warm pyjamas and climbed into bed. School was out of the question for the rest of the week. As sleep overtook me, I reminded myself: I just had to endure for nine more months.

I stirred awake. It had been a week since Griffin's near-fatal assault on me, and I hadn't ventured outside my house since. The bruises on my neck had long faded, and a few days after the incident, my voice regained its usual strength.

My father had been livid. It took every ounce of effort from both my mum and me to prevent him from ripping Griffin to shreds. Frankly, I wouldn't have minded if he did. I utilized the time at home to catch up on assignments and review material for my upcoming exams. Although they were still a few months away, I seized every opportunity to prepare.

Today marked my return to school following the harrowing incident. I braced myself for the inevitable stares and whispers. My presence was bound to intensify the pack's animosity towards me. Word had it that Griffin faced a public admonishment from Kendrick in front of the entire pack.

For an Alpha, such a public disgrace was the utmost form of humiliation, often resulting in their wolves distancing themselves for a few months before fully cooperating again. Given the circumstances, Griffin was likely without his wolf's support, making his predicament even more precarious.

Serves the ignorant jerk rig—

Jazzlyn! No profanity. What have I told you about this?

Apologies, Gianna, but admit it. He is one, isn't he?

I laughed. I cherished my wolf, Jazzlyn, the rebellious spirit within me that I yearned to channel more frequently. She didn't take things to heart, a trait I wished I possessed.

No, Gianna. 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.

I sighed. Perhaps she was right, but at the moment, I felt devoid of confidence. Where was this rebellious streak she spoke of? It was certainly not here. I rolled out of bed and trudged through my usual morning routine, managing, miraculously, to make myself somewhat presentable.

Donning skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and a loose hoodie to conceal my figure, I barely looked presentable. A light application of makeup helped hide the dark circles under my eyes, a testament to my restless nights. I looked disheveled, a fact no one could dispute.

Dragging my feet down the stairs, I dropped my school bag near the front door. The scent of a bacon sandwich wafted from the kitchen, where my father was engrossed in the paper and my mother sat with a steaming cup of tea.

Wordlessly, I took my seat and began to eat. I didn't feel like talking, the dread of the upcoming day overshadowing any appetite I might have had. I was apprehensive of how the pack would react to the incident with Griffin, their judgment adding to my mounting anxiety. My parents glanced at me, remorse apparent in their eyes. Their guilt tore at my heartstrings – they blamed themselves for my circumstances, even though they had done everything they could. They had no reason to apologize. My fate was beyond their control.

After I finished breakfast, I snatched my bag and bolted out of the door, hoping to avoid any further conversation with my parents. As I drew closer to school, my anxiety heightened, a gnawing fear consuming me. I dreaded the prospect of heightened hostility and judgment.

The sight of the school brought a wave of panic; my breath became shallow and rapid. I needed to calm down – a panic attack was the last thing I needed. A haze settled over my mind, but I forcefully pushed it away. I couldn't afford to succumb to fear, I had to face this head-on. I refused to be intimidated.

Gradually, I regained some control over my emotions as I stepped onto the school grounds. It felt as though I had a beacon on my head, drawing attention to me. As soon as I set foot on school property, it was as if a spotlight was trained on me. The experience was as uncomfortable as I had feared – I might as well have grown three heads since my last school day.

My frustration grew at their curious glances and murmured judgments. Their probing stares felt like daggers, hatred and scorn palpable in their expressions. I was the girl who had caused their Alpha's public disgrace, a perfect target for their contempt.

Determined to ignore the harsh gazes, I kept my head down and navigated through the school grounds. Just as I was nearing the entrance, the distinctive click of heels alerted me to an approaching presence. The overpowering smell of cheap perfume confirmed my suspicions-Remi. Another name to add to the list of school tormentors.

"How dare you show your face here? Everyone hates you for what happened to Griffin. You absolute witch!" Remi's shrill voice echoed.

A crowd soon formed around Remi and me, eyes wide with expectant curiosity.

"I couldn't care less about your precious Griffin. He ceased being my Alpha long ago. And you, Remi, why don't you go and find some new boy to amuse yourself with? Your boyfriend alone seems insufficient to keep you entertained," I retorted.

"How dare you disrespect the Alpha? And who are you to speak to me like that, you pitiful omega?" Remi shrilled, approaching me with a repetitive click-clack of her heels.

She attempted to project an air of intimidation but failed miserably.

"As I mentioned earlier, which might have been too complex for your limited intellect, Griffin is irrelevant to me. I'll be long gone before he assumes the Alpha role. And please, drop the act, you're failing at appearing threatening," I countered.