Chapter 1
-Malia-
From the kitchen, I could hear the shouting and objects crashing to the floor. Through the crack in my door, I saw my younger half-brother standing in his room’s doorway, smirking, as if he took pleasure in hearing our mother’s abuse. It was obvious he was following in my stepfather’s footsteps, but I couldn’t handle listening to this any longer. I stood up, opened the door, and glared at him, but he returned the look.
“Why do you enjoy this?” I asked.
“What? She should’ve cleaned better,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes and walked past him. I had to stop this before it escalated to the point I’d have to rush my mom to the hospital again. He kept shouting and throwing things, while she cowered in the corner, trembling with fear. Broken plates scattered the floor as he cornered her.
“Stop!” I yelled.
The room fell silent. They both turned to look at me. I held my head high. It wasn’t the first time I’d faced punishment, but I would gladly endure it to spare her. Tonight, though, felt different. The stench of alcohol clung to him. Even as a half-blood, my senses were sharper than a human’s.
“Excuse me?” he slurred.
“Malia...” my mother whispered, shaking her head.
“I’ll help clean up. You don’t need to shout anymore. It’ll get done.”
“Well, it wasn’t done right the first time. Why should I expect it to be different now?”
“Because I’ll help,” I replied.
“You should’ve helped in the first place, brat!” he shouted.
“Just stop.”
“You don’t fucking rule this house,” he warned.
“She got the message. We’ll take care of it,” I assured him.
“Oh, will you now?”
“We will.”
He stumbled forward, and my mother grabbed his arm to stop him. He swiftly turned and slapped her.
“Mom!” I shouted, frozen in place.
He charged towards me, grabbing my throat. I braced for a slap, but it never came. His grip tightened, choking me.
“You’re a fucking waste of space. Good for nothing. Why the hell do I even bother having you here? Are you good for anything?” he snapped.
I couldn’t respond. He was choking the life out of me while he stared at me. But then he briefly glanced at my mother, who cradled her cheek in terror. His eyes returned to me, and an unfamiliar expression crossed his face.
“You know, I think I have a way to make sure your mother never leaves a spot uncleaned. I know how to put both of you in your place and find use for you. You two look so much alike, don’t you?”
I knew that. Despite the different hair colors—hers blond, mine dark—we were practically twins. My mother and I exchanged confused looks, but then he pushed me backwards, forcing me to stumble before shoving me onto the dining table.
“Stop it!” my mother shouted, emerging from the kitchen.
I struggled against his grip, realizing where this was going. He released my throat to undress me.
“Let go!” I cried.
“Now we’ll put you to good use,” he laughed, as my mother rushed forward, grabbing his shirt.
“Get off her!” she shouted.
His anger surged, and he let go of me long enough to strike her so violently that she fell unconscious.
“Mom!” I yelled, attempting to rise, but he shoved me back onto the table. “No!”
His breath reeked of alcohol, making me nauseous as his hands fumbled with my pants.
“Let me go!”
“I bet you’re tighter than her,” he growled in my ear, revulsion making my skin crawl. “Now I finally get to see if you’re still that sweet girl. I didn’t scare off all those males for nothing.”
He made it sound like he’d been waiting for this, sending an icy chill through me. He’d always forbidden me from dating, saying there’d be no romantic relationships under his roof. Had he been waiting for this moment? For a chance to assault me?
“Stop!” I cried.
His hands fumbled with my pants, trying to lower them, but I kept pushing him away. His weight was overpowering, and the fear was overwhelming. Was this really happening? Was I going to be violated in my own home while my mother lay unconscious?
No, I couldn’t accept this. But what could I do? He pulled my pants down and then began undoing his own. His intoxicated coordination slowed him down, but I knew what was coming.
“No! Please!” I pleaded.
“Lie still,” he commanded.
Tears welled in my eyes, but something else stirred within me. I had felt it before, but never so strongly. A power surged through my veins. I knew what it was, and I had been warned against giving in to it. Half-bloods could transform, but it was dangerous. Yet in that moment, I chose death over being violated. I surrendered to the power, and it overtook me.
There was a sharp snap, my back bending unnaturally, and my stepfather recoiled in shock. His pants were still undone, but he froze, realizing what was happening. The transformation was painful—my bones cracking, my body shifting—until I stood on all fours, growling fiercely. His shock wore off, and his eyes glowed yellow, filled with a need to dominate. I growled back, refusing to submit.
“Oh, you want to play?” he snarled.
Suddenly, he vanished, and I walked over to my unconscious mother, licking her cheek, trying to rouse her. But she didn’t respond. I heard my stepfather returning, this time with a gun in hand. He aimed it at me, and I narrowly avoided the bullet as it struck the wall.
“If you want to act like a dog, I’ll put you down like one!” he shouted.
He fired more shots at me, but I knew I couldn’t stay. He would kill me. I sprinted towards the open door and dashed outside, hearing the gunfire behind me. I had no idea where I would go, but I ran, fleeing from him and the horrors of that house.
