Emma Greens was mowing the thick, unruly grass of the front yard when the distant growl of engines rolled across the Dark Moon Pack estate. The low hum echoed against the mountains, vibrating through the pine forests, and her chest tightened instinctively. She resisted the urge to look up.
Ever since she could remember, Emma had been an outcast in the pack. Raised under the strict supervision of Alpha Daniel, she had learned early that her presence was tolerated, not welcomed. She was the shadow behind the celebrated faces of the pack, the forgotten wolf in the corridors of power.
The Alpha's biological daughter, Lunara, was the pride of the Northern Territory—the future Luna Regent. The pack adored her, and every member knew better than to cross her path. Lunara, in turn, despised Emma's very existence, a disdain that needed no words.
An hour later, Emma's phone vibrated sharply in her pocket.
"Emma, what happened?"
She glanced at the screen. It was Marta, the older she-wolf who lived across the forest ridge. Emma typed slowly, hesitant.
"Nothing, Marta." Her eyes wandered toward the distant cabins nestled among the trees.
"Then why did you register on the Howling Union? Begging wolves to claim you? You're twenty-three, Emma!"
Emma frowned, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.
"Marta, please calm down. What is the Howling Union?"
"It's a mating registry!" Marta replied sharply. "Delete those images now. Your hair is wild, your clothes… poorly chosen. He-wolves are laughing at you!"
The mower slipped from Emma's grip, clattering against the stone pathway.
"Lunara! She did it again!" Emma shouted, her voice cracking as she ran toward the stone lodge at the estate's heart.
She burst into the grand hall, breath ragged.
"Lunara, did you register me on a mating registry?" Emma demanded.
Lunara reclined elegantly on one of the carved sofas, her posture flawless, her ankles crossed with deliberate grace. Power clung to her like a second skin.
"Oh?" Lunara's tone was lazy, almost mocking. "You roam the registry but never thought to make a profile yourself? Aren't you overdue to be claimed?"
"I never visited it! Someone contacted me just now. Did I ask for a mate?" Emma's voice rose despite herself.
Theresa, the Luna and Lunara's mother, rose abruptly, shouting, "Emma!"
"Stay out of this, Mother. I'm talking to my sister," Emma snapped, meeting Lunara's gaze.
"You stupid creature," Lunara hissed. "I have told you repeatedly: I am not your sister. Your mother dragged you here as collateral. You were payment. Stop calling me family. I am refined. I am intelligent. I will not be linked to a dull, filthy stray."
Emma pressed her lips together, swallowing back the sting. Collateral. That word followed her everywhere, clinging to her like a curse. She had been taken in as a child, yet the truth of her origin remained obscured. Was it desperation? Malice? She didn't know—but the pack's constant reminders burned into her soul: she did not belong.
Whispers haunted her. Some said her mother arrived at the pack borders desperate, borrowing gold from Alpha Daniel, then vanished into the mountains. Others claimed she knowingly traded her daughter to settle a debt. Emma had no memory clear enough to confirm either version. She only knew she had grown up feeling invisible, resentful, and wounded by a past she could not piece together.
"Please remove all the pictures you uploaded," Emma said quietly, her voice fragile. "I will choose a mate when I find the right wolf for me."
"When will that be?" Lunara snapped. "You are twenty-three! You consume the pack's food and contribute nothing. If raising a child were easy, your real mother would not have abandoned you. You are leaving this pack whether you want to or not."
Emma lowered her gaze. "Fine. I'll go. I just need time to find somewhere to stay."
Her real need was freedom—money, independence, and a life that wasn't dictated by her collateral status.
"Your time is up," Alpha Daniel said, stepping into the great hall. "A suitor contacted me thirty minutes ago. He arrives tomorrow morning. He has cleared the debt your mother left behind."
Emma froze. "You sold me?"
"No. Someone cleared your debt," the Alpha replied sharply. "Either you leave as his mate tomorrow, or you leave with nothing. Pack your things."
Tears burned her eyes as laughter echoed from the council lounge below. Every rejection, every whispered word, every bruise to her self-worth pressed down heavier than the last.
Emma Greens, twenty-three, with her soft pink-tinged pale skin and cascading golden hair, had always been told she was ugly. They said the only beautiful thing about her was her hair. And yet… there was something more, something in her essence she herself did not understand. Something that stirred a reaction in certain wolves, though she had no idea why.
She collapsed onto her bed, sobbing, when a gentle voice broke the silence.
"Emma," Princess Elara said, her silver robe shimmering in the doorway.
"Elara…" Emma whispered.
"Blessings come in many forms," Elara said softly. "Those who see beauty in humble places are truly blessed. Wipe your tears. Prepare yourself for tomorrow."
"They hate me," Emma sobbed. "They will give me to a monster."
"What kind of he-wolf would you wish for?" Elara asked gently.
"One who loves without conditions."
Elara smiled faintly. "Pure hearts are never ignored." She paused. "And remember, go with whoever they choose for you."
Emma moved to the window, watching Lunara waiting outside, red-gold hair glowing, flanked by guards. She radiated power, beauty, and influence—the very embodiment of what Emma was not.
When Princess Elara departed, the convoy rolled away, swallowed by the forest road.
Alone in her room, Emma touched the windowpane, her reflection wavering in the glass. There was something in her blood, something she could not yet name, something that had already begun to stir…
A presence that drew certain wolves without reason. An unclaimed power that whispered her name in the forest wind.
She did not yet know it, but far beyond the mountains, a powerful Alpha had already felt her presence.
And by tomorrow morning, he would come to claim what had always been his.