The Wolfless Luna Chosen by the Sacred Wolf

The sound of lashing and my continued sobbing filled the quiet room.

The silver whip is slashing my back as I lie on the icy ground.

Nonetheless, I had no choice but to put up with all of this.

'More wounds to heal, more tears to shed, and more pain to bear.'

I laughed.

I did my best not to react to the whip I was constantly given.

Besides, I'm used to being in this situation.

But then the last hit, which grazed the side of my left breast, made me groan so loudly.

"Fuck it, just stop!"

I yelled as I noticed blood dripping from my skin.

"And who taught you to argue with me and raise your voice!?

You wolfless creature have no right to do such things!"

As he lands another set of blows on my skin, the person who was beating me says.

Even if I don't have a wolf, I'm still a werewolf, and I'm used to their cruelty and the pain they cause my body.

But there are times when I wish things could be different for me.

"Sorry, but it's just too painful...

Please leave me alone with my body.

I've had enough, and all I want is a normal life."

My emotions began to overflow.

I can't help but express what's on my mind.

"Oh, you poor thing!

Dumbass!

Do you think I'll feel sorry for you because of your acting?

No way, no how!

A strange creature does not deserve a normal life!"

He yelled, so close to my face that his saliva landed on my ripped skin.

Then there was another beating.

I cried because of the physical and emotional pain he caused.

I can't believe I'm going through this in his hands, in their hands, actually.

"I know I'm getting up later than usual, but that's because you gave me too much work yesterday.

After all, I am still a member of this family.

You don't have to—"

He never let me finish what I was saying.

He immediately grabbed my neck, making it difficult for me to breathe.

"Stop the nonsense!

I'm not interested in hearing from you!"

Then he smacked me down on the filthy floor.

"And no, you are not a member of our family!"

Those words pierced me to the core.

I chose to remain silent.

I'm pretty sure this conversation will go nowhere.

"You lazy ass, learn to get up earlier next time!

Is that understood?

Or do you want me to keep doing this to you?"

The person wielding the whip yelled at me, loud and deafening.

I continued to be silent.

He's nasty and completely cruel.

I had no idea he was capable of such venomous hatred.

He grunted and walked away, followed by another man who stood by and watched.

I came to a complete stop, expecting him to assist me, but he did not.

Who would even think of assisting someone like me?

My brother, relatives, or other pack members would frequently come over to physically harm me out of rage.

Yes, they hurt me by venting their rage over things I didn't even know about.

I cried and cried until I was used to their antics.

And this is something that happens every morning of my life.

I remained silent.

I never grumble.

But now that he's reached rock bottom, I'm speaking up.

Too much pain, too much torture, simply too much—and I am exhausted; my body, mind, and heart.

Every day, I am accustomed to waiting for them to beat me because I know it is their way of expressing their unending rage and anger.

I know my life is miserable.

When I realized that crying would not help the situation, I decided to stop crying and making noises.

Why am I being tortured in this manner?

I was unable to shift when I was thirteen, and my so-called family disowned me as a result.

The pack then mimicked their movements.

In the werewolf civilization, young pups must shift at the age of thirteen.

It's a werewolf trait, and unfortunately, I was the first to live without a wolf.

Since then, all I've gotten is pain, curses, and degrading words that have continued to hurt me to my bones.

My own father regards me as repulsive.

My mother wished she had never had me.

My brother is not pleased that I am his sister.

I'm an unwanted member of our pack.

In the eyes of others, I am nothing more than an insane, crazy, and strange being.

Every day, I was subjected to a barrage of slurs, to which I had grown accustomed.

That evening, my family insulted me for the first time, and they have never stopped reminding me of who I was since.

Their voices never leave any part of my mind...

Nothing hurt me more than how they said those words.

I didn't try to ignore the blood on the ground this time.

I let it flow as I stare at it intently.

I sighed nervously and stood up to take a look around my room, which is almost like a prison.

It was dark, dusk, filthy, and lonely.

Each stride left a trail of blood on the ground, which also dripped from my back.

Eris, my brother, hurt me even more at that point.

Nonetheless, I did not whimper in pain.

Before I stopped feeling anything, I was abused and tortured for five years.

I always choose to bear the pain they inflict on me and do my best to ignore and not feel it.

Every time I felt the pain of a seeker, especially from them, I would do this automatically; I would do my best to ignore and not feel.

I tried cutting my fingers with shattered glass to feel anything, but there was never any pain or sensation.

I was and still am a dead being to this pack.

Most abused werewolves, I'm sure, will flee or commit suicide, but I never have and never will.

My friend was the only thing that kept me alive in this place.

Him.

This is my second half.

I'm bracing myself for his rejection.

I'm expecting him to reject me.

Every werewolf who is blessed with a mate is fortunate, but I am not because Samson is my mate.

He has no idea that I was meant to be his.

I knew he was my mate when I was 16 years old.

Despite the fact that it perplexed me because I didn't have a wolf.

Furthermore, werewolves find their mate at the age of 18, but I had found mine two years earlier.

How did I discover this?

I was completely smitten by him.

He triggered an intense attraction in me that I couldn't explain.

My heart would occasionally race when I saw him because of his antics.

Other times, I'd feel a strong dislike for him that I couldn't put my finger on.

He also had this distinct scent.

His odor would alert me when he was nearby.

But what makes me so certain that he will reject me as his mate?

He adores Cindy, my perfect and ideal sister.

They've been dating for quite some time.

Samson's parents thought these two were a perfect match, and Cindy was the ideal future luna.

Isn't it wonderful?

I'm confident that under duress, he'll label her as his luna sooner or later.

They are expected to succeed the Nightcrawler Pack's current Alpha and Luna.

I could see dead brown eyes staring back at me through the mirror.

It was my father, and he appeared to be passing judgment on my thin, pale, damaged, and battered skin.

This part of me that was once so vibrant, smooth, and delicate.

I was distracted and didn't hear Cindy calling out to me "Nikky, you're a jerk!

What the hell happened to you?!

How come you didn't even iron my shirt?!"

"Coming!" I exclaimed, ignoring the pain I was in.

Hello, my name is Nikky, and welcome to my strangely unhappy life.