Chapter 1
Layla Stromwall – Point of View
Sunlight filtered in through the cracked door. The light creating an orange tinge behind my eyelids. I dared not to move hoping he would just go away after yelling at me. Unfortunately, everything I do sets him off.
A hard kick in my side caused me to collapse in on myself silently. I knew better than to make any noise. The thin pad I sleep on was ripped out from under me causing me to roll onto the tender part of my ribs. Still, I let out no noise. I felt the dirt grind into my skin.
Slowly I moved to stand hoping my movements didn’t trigger another assault. As I slid my body up the damp cellar wall, I kept my eyes down in submission. “Get up.” His tone was just as a master would speak to their slave. “The Alpha and Luna will be over at 6 PM this evening. You need to clean the house and prepare dinner. The Luna asked for you to join us so make yourself presentable. I don’t want you looking like the disgusting pig you are.” He threw a bag of clothes at me, his tone laced with repulsion.
I nod continuing to keep my eyes low. “Yes sir.” The insults have been thrown at me since I was 6. I had no reaction to them anymore. They stung deep down but we knew better than to fight back. “Good. If you embarrass me tonight, consider this your new home. I will tell them you left for training and boarding school earlier than expected. Not that anyone would care where you are.” He was challenging me, his tone almost sounded like he was hoping I would mess up.
The man who is not only the Beta of our pack but also my so-called father turns and walks through the wooden door and into our backyard. I sighed and made my way out as well. The early morning sun was just coming out of its slumber as well and a sea of pinks, purples, and blues painted the cloudless sky.
The grass glistened with the morning dew as the forest started to come to life. The fresh scent of moist earth and stale bonfires filled my nose. It was much better than the mold and mildewy smell of the cellar.
I wasn’t always in the root cellar. When my father got angry, really about anything in his life, he would take it out on me. It started with verbal and mental abuse. From the day I was born I was constantly reminded that I killed my mother. Then when that was well ingrained in my soul, he won my brother over and they both began insulting at me. I was never strong enough, pretty enough, smart enough, coordinated enough, or just generally good enough.
My mom died while giving birth to me. I know, typical story, dad hates kid that took his mate away from him. Unfortunately, the mate bond isn’t always a good thing and it has the ability to destroy someone if the bond is ever broken or strained by rejection, distance, or death. I witnessed that first hand.
My brother and I were friends until I was 6. My father’s insults started to change around then and that caused a domino effect. My brother started to believe my dad so he started to treat me the same way. This followed me to school as well since my brother, the future Beta, was treating me poorly the other kids did too.
What neither of them know is that I have worked the last 10 years to prove them wrong. I have almost no allies in our pack. The only people who have ever helped me or shown interest in my wellbeing are the current Delta, the Alpha and Luna, as well as the principal of the school. However, even they don’t fully know what is going on, they just think I am bullied.
After a few moments of taking in the sunrise I make my way to the house. I step into my bedroom and sigh. It is a soft baby pink with a small twin bed and pink frilly bedding. I haven’t been provided anything new for myself since I was 6.
The only things I am provided are meals when my father is in a good mood, and clothes when my father is required to bring me somewhere or we might have company. Everything else I provide for myself one way or another. All my money is tucked aside for when I leave. And I will be leaving, soon.
I step into the ensuite bathroom and begin to rinse the heavy weight of yesterday’s emotional and physical turmoil away. I need a clean slate before I start collecting today’s load.
The boiling hot water singes my bronze skin giving me relief from the heavy lifting my mind had been doing. As I step out the steam leads my way to the fogged-up mirror. The fog doesn’t matter, I don’t need it anyways.
I don’t own makeup; I don’t want to see the hideous thing looking back at me, nor the angry bruising or the scars that are a permanent reminder of one of the worst nights of my life so far.
Even through the fog I can still see just one of the many things that make me stand out. My hair reaches down to my hips but that isn’t the strange thing. The top of my hair is black from the roots down about six inches where it blends into a silvery grey.
I quickly put my thick locks into a bun and pull on a baggy sweatshirt I snagged from the lost and found at the packhouse and a pair of sweatpants I took from one of the community bags the pack hangs throughout the forest for those who shift in a hurry.
I am short for a werewolf so I have to roll the sweatpants a few times in order not to trip on them. Where your average she-wolf stands about 5’11” I am a mere 5’5”. Don’t even get me started on the male wolves’ height.
It is Thursday and according to my flip phone, yes, I said flip phone, it is currently 4:45 AM. I have about 2 hours until I need to head to the training fields and only an hour until my father leaves the house and I can try to sneak some food.
I open my window, extend my claws then leap the 5 feet to the tree in our backyard and dig my claws in to keep from falling. Could I walk through the house and out the door like a normal person? Sure, if I was a normal person and didn’t have a ticking time bomb living under the same roof.
It is just easier to sneak out and it got even easier when I got my wolf early. Most werewolves receive their wolves at 16, Ranked wolves (Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta) receive their wolves around 15, and then there is me who received Zora a few months before my 14th birthday.
The only people who know about Zora are the Alpha, Luna, Delta, Principal Evander and five out of the 50 first class warriors. I am not sure how, but Zora is able to keep her scent and aura hidden. She says we are special but special is only relative in this world.
The only reason the Alpha, Luna, Delta, and Principal Evander know about her was because I wanted to train with her but didn’t want to draw attention considering I received her earlier than expected. They know my relationship with my father is strained but not to what extent so they understood me wanting to keep this from him. They urged me to tell him saying he would be proud but I insisted on ‘surprising’ him when we were stronger. They let the subject go, luckily.
The Alpha approved the training and secrecy so we setup a schedule with Delta Duncan. Yes, the weird D names run in his family as his son’s name is Donovan and Duncan’s father’s name is Derek. I asked him about it once and he just shrugged saying it was a Delta thing.
I dropped stealthily from the tree and made my way to the edge of the forest.
‘Are you ready Zora?’
‘Can I run today?’
‘If we don’t scent anyone around, I don’t see why not.’
I could feel her excitement at the thought of being free. I am a member of the pack so it should be safe to let Zora out but because of our size and coloring we tend to stand out and we can’t afford the attention.
I started my run-in human form and after about 40 minutes we have made it to our ‘spot’. It is a dark part of the forest that dips down into a rock formation that overlooks a lake. Most people enjoy the other side of the lake where it is sunny and there is a large clearing extending from the water’s edge to the forest line. The rock formation on this side cozies up to the edge of the lake creating the perfect wall of protection from those enjoying themselves.
When we arrive, I see that no one has made it to the lake on either side and we both do not sense anyone around. I strip out of my clothes and hide them within the rocks.
It took a while to get used to being naked in the fresh air, or naked in general. The feeling of a cold breeze making contact with areas that are rarely uncovered is a foreign one at first but has become second nature eventually.
I will never be comfortable doing this in front of people though. My back is covered in scars, one set even forms an ugly word, and there is a much deeper pain that I resonate with it. The Delta is one of the only people who has seen the scars and I refused to tell him who did it because it doesn’t matter anyways. He did know light details about what happened but he never pushed any further.
The last time I tried to reach out for help for the physical abuse I was called a liar, forced to apologize to my bullies for ‘slandering’ them, and called a disappointment by my father who then proceeded to insult me in front of the three girls, their fathers, and the principal.
That same night I was dragged by my hair from my bed by my father and thrown into the cellar. I stayed there locked in the dark damp room for four days. He had left me there, alone, until the school called letting him know I wasn’t in classes for two days. At this point I knew no one cared if I lived or died.
I tried to fight back once. I did end up knocking out the two girls who were holding me down but their leader, Clarissa AKA Claire, ran. The whole situation was turned on me and they played the victim cards. The cameras were conveniently out of service as always, so I had no proof, also, as always. That night my dad whipped me for three hours straight. I never made that mistake again.
Zora comes out as we transform and I give her control. After we run, hunt, and stretch we return to our spot and quickly shift back pulling on our clothes just as patrol makes their way into the area. My chest is heaving at how close we were to being found out.
It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world but both Zora and I believe that these people do not deserve to see who we have became nor who we will become. We have big plans. Earlier this year I finally submitted my application to Wyrd Academy. It is very unlikely I will get in but it is what I have been working for.
Wyrd Academy is meant for the gifted and in other words the ranked or ‘blessed’ people of the supernatural world. The most powerful of all breeds attend but every year they open their doors to 25 scholarship students based on performance and strong referrals. There is also a rumor that they have an oracle that lives on campus that helps them choose future students.
I asked the Alpha, Luna, Delta Duncan, and my principal to write me referrals for “college” applications. They all happily obliged. I sobbed when I read them. No one has ever said such nice things about me and it made me even more motivated to leave. Don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly thankful for their kindness but they can only do so much.
All I want is a fresh start.
