Christine's P.O.V

After my mother left, I curled into the dark. My heartbeat was too loud. The air grew thick with tension. Footsteps echoed through the packhouse, accompanied by angry shouts and the sickening crack of wood splintering under force. Then, my father's voice cut through the chaos. I crawled forward on trembling hands, pressing my face desperately to a crack in the wooden panel, desperate for a glimpse. He was on his knees, covered in blood. I gasped, "Father, Father," I screamed, hitting my small fists against the unyielding barrier, tears streaming down my face. His eyes found mine. He smiled as horror flickered across his ashen face. "Christine, oh Christine, my perfect child," he muttered, his voice weak. "Father, I'm here," I cried, reaching toward him. "Please get me out of here. Don't leave me." He dragged himself closer to my hiding place, each movement etched with pure agony. Behind him was red.

Blood moon hung low and ominous in the night sky. He pressed his palm to the wall, directly against mine, the thin wood the only barrier between us. "Be strong, be brave," he whispered, his voice barely audible. I sobbed, shoulders shaking with grief. "You must be strong, Christine." As he spoke, a shadow rose behind him, tall and menacing against the crimson light. Fear twisted his once handsome features. "None of this is your fault," the darkness lunged forward, Rod, stabbing a dark sword through my father's chest. "No!" I screamed, as the world snapped back. "Child, what are you still doing here?" A sharp voice rang out. I gasped, yanked violently from memory into the present.

"Daydreaming again, Christine?" An older servant snarled as she loomed over me like a storm cloud. "I'm sorry," I whispered, fixing my gaze on the worn stone floor, willing my trembling hands to still. "Always sorry," she sneered, venom dripping from each syllable.

"Don't you get tired? You should thank us," she continued cruelly, draping her gown, "for allowing you to stay among us, Omega. Your parents died like failures, she said. If I were you, I would have gone with them." She spat, rolling her eyes. "Finish this before sunset. Madam Cora always punish us for your incompetence, so be quick." She snapped her fingers. I sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes, ma'am. I shall not cause any trouble."

She looked down at my bleeding nose and blinked once before stalking away, her shadow stretching long and dark across the stone floor. Then a bell rang through the evening air, each chime reverberated through the hallways like a proclamation. Excited voices erupted above, echoing down the spiral staircase. "Sir has arrived at last. He has arrived." The words tumbled over each other in breathless anticipation. I gripped tightened on my bucket. This means nothing for me. I stood on my feet, walking down the corridor in silence. Two servants stood nearby, their eyes glowing with anticipation, faces flushed with excitement that I couldn't share. "The moon goddess will choose tonight," one whispered reverently. "Just one wish. Anything anyone desires will be granted. You know anyone could be chosen." Just then a guard's voice echoed sharply through the corridor. "All servants remain out of sight. You must not be found anyway close to the back halls." My bucket fell as I stumbled back instantly, hiding myself behind the stone walls. Any attempt on defiling orders would lead to grievous consequences. Especially for the wolfless one, guard continued his voice filling the corridor. Every gaze turned toward me, a dozen pairs of eyes filled with disgust. Shame burned hot and familiar beneath my skin, an old companion I could never escape. In their eyes, I was empty, unworthy, less. I reached for my bucket. "Christine," a calm voice whispered in my ear. It sounded soft. I froze and looked around me as someone had spoken my name, but no one was behind me. There was absolutely no one. The moonlight crept closer. It touched my skin. I traced its light. "Christine, go!" My breath hitched. That voice, what was that voice? It didn't echo. It landed, hard, inside me. No one else reacted. No one else heard it. I carried my bucket and walked back towards the servants' quarter, ignoring several glares in my direction.

"Christine Vale, you are going the wrong way." I stopped, turned around sharply, my breath stuttering. Go where? I cannot be out there. This thought was reckless. It was madness. Whatever this is, stop! But it didn't. It filled my head, threatening to explode as the voice growled. Christine Vale, go, go.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing here? Get out!" A hand slammed into my shoulder and yanked me backward. Pain shot down my arm as the guard twisted it behind me. "Get back, wolfless. This hall is not for you." I didn't know when I found myself crawling towards the hall, a sacred place I had always been denied access to, summoned only when it needed its floor polished to crystalline perfection. "I... I just wanted to glance. Please," I whispered, my voice trembling like autumn leaves. "No. Keep your eyes forward and your hands on your head, and walk back, or you'll regret it," the guard barked. I twisted against his grip, just enough to look past him. The hall. Silver light. Elders. Power. And then... he slammed me into the wall. Laughter rippled through the corridor. Soft whispers, locking glances that cut deeper than any blade. "Oh, look at her. Even the wolfless thinks she has a chance?" "Careful, she might beg the moon goddess for scraps too." They chuckled. "The moon goddess didn't even grant her a wolf, and now she expects to be honored?" "What a joke. What is she doing here, anyways? Get her out of here before the Luna arrives." Someone threw the brick towards me, hitting my shoulder. I didn't turn. Suddenly, the guard burst in rage.

Christine's point of view

"That's it. You are coming with me this instant. You don't listen, wolfless, so I will have to teach you a lesson. Come here," he dragged me by my hair, threatening to rip my hair out my skull. "Please," I cried as I held his strong, masculine arm. "Please let go. Let go of me. Please." The guard dragged me down the corridor like a disobedient pet, fast, rough. "Try that again," he muttered, "and I'll have you locked below." Dungeons? That shut me up. "Now, move, wolfless." I stumbled beside him, my knees scraping against the stone. Every footstep echoed like a final verdict on my worth. Behind us, the ceremonial chants continued, soft yet insistent, the scrape of robes mingling with hushed reverent voices. I longed to look at the moon, to see if it truly called to me, but I couldn't raise my eyes, not yet, until he was gone. My thoughts had to remain hidden, secretly protected from those who would extinguish it. The guard shoved me against the wall, his eyes cold as winter frost. "Remember your place, forever beneath us, like the nothing that you are." I did. I always did. I was dragged back to my room like a piece of discarded trash, but the rage inside me to attempt joining the ceremony of wolves. So I sat on my tiny bed, fingers tracing the cracked glass of a salvaged lamp I'd rescued from the trash, undoubtedly once owned by one of those privileged, spoiled brats in the pack. A familiar scent wafted through the air. A door knocked, sharp, unexpected. "Christine. Christine. Are you there?" My heart lurched painfully. Footsteps crept along the corridor. Doris leaned against the doorframe. "I saw what happened." Her eyes moved over me, not sympathy, assessment. "You're still doing it?" she asked. I stiffened. "I can handle myself. You shouldn't be here." She smiled slightly. I could say the same to you. Applause. Then, you tried to enter the hall, she asked. Not shocked, interested. "That told me everything. Are you okay?" I stood up abruptly. "You have to leave." She smiled. Too wide, too rehearsed. "Yes, I know. I cannot be seen with you, obviously. I just... I just hate seeing you treated like that. You don't deserve it." I studied her closely, noting the changes time had etched into her once familiar face. But she pitied me from her lofty perch. "Doris, I'm fine. Thank you," I said tightly, fingers clutching my threadbare blanket. "Just busy. Busy scrubbing floors, I see," she whispered, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "The ceremony sounds incredible. I don't blame you for sneaking in. Sometimes I do sneak into events like this, trying to fit in." I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp in my throat. "Try to fit in? Oh, come on. You already fit right in. You're the beta's daughter, born to privilege. But me? Not so much." Her expression flickered for a heartbeat, something genuine from our childhood briefly surfacing. But it vanished, replaced by flawless composure. "Still, you shouldn't be alone right now. I know that guard was rude, and I've seen to it." I looked away, relief washing over me, mingled with caution. Experience had taught me not to rely on anyone, not even Doris with her fair-weather friendship. A faint shuffle from the hall reminded us both that any servant caught speaking with someone from above risked severe punishment. "You won't get caught again as long as you're with me," she hissed, her eyes darting nervously toward the ceremonial hall. I nodded silently, my pulse slowed. But unease lingered in my chest. Her concern seemed genuine, but layered with ambition and self-interest. "You're lucky I saw you first," she added, brushing a strand of her glossy hair from her face. "Some people would enjoy watching you break." I smirked faintly, wariness never leaving my eyes. "Lucky me, then." Even in her presence, tension simmered between us like water about to boil. Though I wanted to trust her, but conflict blinkered between us like an ember I couldn't extinguish. "Come on," she pressed. We huddled in the shadows of the servant wing, voices barely above whispers. The faint hum of chanting and ceremonial movement echoed from the hall, reminding us of worlds divided. "You know at the academy, everyone's talking about LaMarcus," Doris said, leaning close, excitement. "LaMarcus has been doing really well the past season," she said. My chest tightened. Of course he was. "He's impressive," she added. "Everyone says he'll be a force to reckon with when he takes leadership in our pack." I nodded once, didn't trust my voice. "Won't you say anything?" she pushed, nudging my shoulder. "I... I know. That's... Expected of him," I stammered, fingers clenching in my lap. I fought to appear calm and collected, but inside my chest ached with longing. Every mention of his name sent butterflies dancing in my stomach. I remembered vividly the day Lamarcus and Doris left for Moonbound Academy. We were standing at the crossroads of our lives. I had watched them go, bright-eyed and wolf-marked, entering the elite school where only the strong, the wolf-bonded, and the worthy could tread.

I had cride until my eyes slowly shut. The worst day of my existence, watching my future walk away without me. I had stayed behind, wolfless, invisible, forgotten. Doris cleared her throat delicately. "The academy is wonderful. Everyone hopes to find their mates there, too. I'm rather terrified for Lamarcus. He's an alpha heir and hasn't shown any signs of recognizing his mate, which is rare since alphas typically find theirs quicker. The Luna is deeply worried. Everyone is." She paused. "I know you both share history together. You still think he'll choose you even after you lost everything?" she asked. That... that hit. My pulse quickened at her words, hope fluttering dangerously in my chest. I had waited my entire life for Lamarcus Ares to claim me, to declare me his mate once he became crowned alpha heir. My fingers curled. He promised. That was enough. It had to be. Doris's gaze caught mine, sharp and probing. "Your quiet again. Are you worried about the ceremony?" I forced a shrug, deliberately changing the subject.