Future Unknown

My father is a brutal Alpha unyielding, merciless, and utterly allergic to weakness. In his eyes, weakness isn’t just a flaw it’s a threat. A crack in the foundation of the pack. And I am that crack. The defect in his bloodline. The liability he never asked for and never learned to stomach.

An Alpha’s heir is supposed to radiate dominance with every breath, strength carved into their bones, confidence stitched into their soul. I came into this world eight weeks too soon, fragile and gasping for air. The healer didn’t think I’d last the night. Truthfully, no one did.

My father wanted to leave me in the woods. Said it was better to let the rogues finish what nature had started. Let them silence the embarrassment before it could grow.

But my mother stood between me and death, her body trembling, her eyes blazing. She dared anyone to touch me. Dared him to defy her. Her defiance was the only warmth I ever knew in a world that had already decided I wasn’t worth saving.

And even now, years later, I live in the shadow of that moment born unwanted, raised under scrutiny, and constantly reminded that survival doesn’t mean acceptance.

He never lets me forget what I am to him, an embarrassment. A stain on his bloodline. He’s said it more than once: if the Alpha King were in his place, he’d have snapped my neck the moment I drew breath. No hesitation. No mercy. Just silence where my shame used to be.

My sixteenth birthday looms like a sentence. Two weeks. That’s all I have left to prove I belong. Every night, I pray to the Moon Goddess, begging her to awaken the wolf inside me. Without her, I’m nothing. No rank. No voice. Just a hollow name whispered behind backs. A shadow trailing behind the pack, never truly part of it.

I convinced my mother to let me enroll in a human high school and get a job at the diner, just in case. Just in case the Moon Goddess turns her back on me, and I have to walk away from everything I’ve ever known.

Even my father allowed it. Said it was fitting. Said working at a diner was the only thing I’d ever be good for, serving hash browns and coffee to humans. That’s how he sees me. Not as a daughter. Not even as a wolf. Just a placeholder. A mistake waiting to be erased.

“Order up, table five,” Dennis barks, his voice slicing through my thoughts like rusted metal.

“That’s Heather’s section,” I mutter, eyes locked on the floor, hoping to stay invisible.

“She’s on break,” he snaps. “So move it, girl.”

Heather owns the diner, but the moment she’s out of sight, Dennis morphs into a tyrant. Just a cook, but he struts around like he’s Alpha of the kitchen, throwing orders like punches. He thrives on control, especially over someone like me an easy target, no bite.

I grab the tray without protest. Arguing would only feed his ego. Besides, I’m used to it. Even here, I’m not respected. I’m tolerated. A shadow that clears tables and keeps quiet.

I walk the food to a booth crowded with football jocks from school. They don’t look up. Don’t acknowledge me. Their laughter is loud, their conversation sharper than it should be. Probably plotting their next humiliation ritual for some unlucky freshman.

They don’t see me. And maybe that’s the safest place to be unseen, unheard, untouched.

I move through school like smoke silent, unseen, untouchable. I’ve mastered the art of invisibility, slipping between conversations and crowded hallways without leaving a trace. It’s the only place I can breathe. The only place where the storm of home doesn’t chase me down.

Maybe everything will shift once I get my wolf. Maybe then Father will stop looking at me like I’m a stain on his legacy. Maybe I’ll finally be something he can be proud of or at least tolerate. I know what it will cost. School will be over. My job at the diner, gone. The fragile pieces of normalcy I’ve clung to will be stripped away. But if it means earning a place in the pack, if he allows it, maybe it’s worth it.

But nothing is ever truly mine unless he grants it.

And I know what comes next. The moment I turn eighteen, he’ll expect me to find a mate. For a profitable alliance that strengthens the pack and erases the shame I’ve carried since birth. Pack politics wrapped in a wedding dress.

And I don’t know if that’s a price I’m willing to pay.

Maybe the Moon Goddess has something else in mind. Maybe happiness isn’t found in the place I was born.

The diner is quiet tonight, the kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath. I wipe down counters beside Heather, stacking chairs, trying to stay busy trying to stay grounded.

Then, just as I look up, a car horn cuts through the stillness like a warning shot.

My stomach drops.

I already know who it is.

It's Cole. My brother. My father’s pride, his perfect creation. Four years older and sculpted from everything I was never going to be. From the moment I could stand, he was taught to look down on me and he’s mastered the art.

“Hurry up, mutt,” he barks from the driver’s seat.

I rush to the car, slipping into the passenger side without a word. “Thanks, Cole,” I murmur, careful not to provoke him.

He scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. Mother asked me to pick up her precious little pet so she wouldn’t have to walk an hour in the dark. You don’t say no to a Luna.”

His words drip with contempt, each one a reminder of where I stand and how far I’ll always be from his world.

We pull up to the pack house a few minutes later. I don’t wait for Cole to say anything, I’m out of the car before he can throw another insult my way.

When I reach my room, my mother is already there, waiting. Her presence is calm, gentle like a balm I didn’t know I needed.

“Samantha, sweetheart,” she says softly.

“Hi, Mum. How was your evening?” I ask, trying to sound normal.

“It was good, my love.”

“Please don’t send Cole to get me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve been walking just fine since I started there.”

“Samantha,” she replies gently, “there have been too many rogue sightings near the borders and even around town. I just want you safe.”

“I’m no use to rogues,” I mutter. “There’s nothing here worth taking.”

She steps closer, her eyes soft but firm. “Let your mother have a little peace, knowing her baby’s protected.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. Then she adds, almost cautiously, “I want to talk to you about your birthday.”

Her words send a chill down my spine. My sixteenth. The moment everything could change or fall apart.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I don’t want a party or anything. I just want to go to the meadow and wait. Wait for the Moon Goddess to decide if I belong.”

“If you’re certain” she says, her voice gentle but edged with that unmistakable Luna authority. “But I’m still getting you a gift, no arguments.”

“Mum, please don’t,” I whisper, desperation clawing at my throat. “You just got me those art supplies. Father was furious, I thought he was going to destroy everything.”

She waves a hand, her voice steady, almost dismissive. “Hush now. He’ll keep.”

But I hesitate. I know what his fury looks like when it turns cold—when it stops being loud and becomes something far more dangerous. He’s never hit me, but sometimes I wonder if that would’ve been easier. Bruises fade. Words don’t. They embed themselves deep, like splinters in the soul. They echo in the quiet, long after the shouting stops.

Most days, she can calm him with a glance, a touch. Maybe the mate bond really does tame the monster. They’ve clashed over me more times than I can count, but they always find their way back to each other. I’ve watched him look at her like she’s the sun and he’s just a planet caught in her orbit.

And maybe that’s why I’m still here. Not because I’m wanted. Not because I’m worthy. But because her love is the only shield I’ve ever had. The only thing standing between me and him.

“Please, Mum, nothing extravagant,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “You know what I’m wishing for. It’s the only thing I want. The only thing that matters.”

She smiles, but there’s something behind it something fragile. A flicker of sorrow, maybe fear. It passes quickly, hidden beneath the warmth she always wears like armor. Then she gives me a playful wink, her voice soft like falling snow. “I know I’m no Moon Goddess,” she says, “but trust me… you’re going to love it. And it didn’t cost a thing.”

Even I can’t resist her. She has a way of pulling people in soft words, steady eyes, and a strength that doesn’t need to shout. Everyone bends to her, not out of fear, but out of love. She’s the true Luna, the heartbeat of the pack.