The night air was sharp, carrying the scent of pine and the distant hum of crickets. Abigail pulled her thin cloak tighter around her shoulders as she slipped out of the servants' quarters. Her bare feet padded silently against the dirt path, guided by instinct toward the river.
She often came here when sleep refused her a place just far enough from the packhouse to breathe without feeling watched, yet close enough to hear the faint echoes of howls in the distance.
The river shimmered beneath the moon, silver waves catching the light like shards of broken glass. Abigail crouched by the bank, hugging her knees as she stared into the dark water. Her reflection stared back hollow eyes, bruises faint beneath her skin, lips pressed tightly against words she never spoke.
What if I just left?
The thought came suddenly, sharp and dangerous. She imagined running, slipping into the wild forest beyond the territory, past the borders where no one would ever whisper her name in disdain again. No more chores, no more cruel laughter, no more Selene's venom.
But then came the memory of rogues, feral wolves with no pack, no mercy, and no rules. She had seen what they left behind once. Bones and blood scattered like broken promises. If she left, she would be prey.
Her chest ached as tears threatened, but she blinked them away. Crying only made her feel weaker. Still, her voice cracked as she whispered into the night, "Why wasn't I born to someone who loved me?"
The river answered only with its steady flow, uncaring and endless.
She thought of the children she had seen earlier in the day laughing in the market as their mothers gave them coins for sweets, their fathers ruffling their hair with pride. Jealousy twisted in her stomach, a bitter ache she could never confess aloud. She had no mother to wipe her tears, no father to teach her strength. She had only herself.
And yet, wasn't that all she had ever needed?
Abigail closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as the cool mist of the river kissed her skin. She couldn't run, not yet. But she wouldn't let them destroy her either.
Her dreams of belonging felt shattered, scattered like the moonlight on the water. But even broken things could shine.
With trembling fingers, she brushed a tear from her cheek and stood, squaring her shoulders. "One day," she whispered, her voice steadier this time. "One day, I'll be more than this."
The river carried her vow away, but the echo remained in her heart.
She turned back toward the packhouse, unaware of the faint golden glow that had lingered in Steve's study window, where the Alpha had paused, staring into the night as though he could feel the whisper of her resolve.