As laughter swelled somewhere outside, sunlight spilled into a square, nearly barren room. No furniture. No polished trinkets. Nothing that would keep the place from being mistaken for abandoned—if not for the floor, scrubbed so clean it almost gleamed, and the lone figure seated close to the window, the source of the shadow that stretched across the mattress on the floor.
Alexander sat there, small and heavy-set, her cheeks puffed by soft fat. Her eyes were little, her nose small, her mouth smaller still—features that didn't seem to match the fullness of her face. A red ribbon tied back her hair. Her dress was dotted with patches, each one a quiet confession of how little she was worth to anyone in this house.
Alexander.
Daughter of Gideon—one of the most influential council elders in the pack.
The door creaked open. A girl in a maid's uniform slipped in, paused when she saw Alexander, and lowered her voice.
"Alex. Your mother demands your presence immediately."
Then the maid was gone as quickly as she had appeared.
Panic tightened Alexander's expression. She pushed herself up, her body trembling with the effort, and hurried toward the door. What should have taken seconds took her nearly a minute—the handful of meters stretching into a miserable journey.
Outside her room, the door opposite stood slightly ajar. Voices drifted out.
"My darling Damon," a girl breathed, "I can't wait to stand beside you as your Luna and rule the pack with you—"
Alexander narrowed her eyes. She knew that voice.
Tracy.
Her half-sister.
A second voice—lower, warm—answered, "You're going to be the most beautiful Luna in the history of the pack."
Tracy giggled. "You always know what to say to excite me, Damon."
Alexander moved on silent feet and peered through the crack.
Tracy was clinging to Damon's neck, pressing herself to him. Damon—future Alpha—held her waist, kissing her like she belonged there, like she was worthy of the entire pack's admiration.
It was the kind of scene people celebrated.
But Alexander had never been allowed a share of her family's glory.
Pain pinched her chest, sharp and humiliating. Damon had been her crush since she was a child—since the day he'd pulled her from her stepmother's grasp, when the woman had tried to sell her off because she was an eyesore.
"Where is the girl?" an angry voice thundered from several doors ahead.
Alexander jolted so hard she lost her balance and fell back onto the floor. Terror flooded her limbs. She scrambled up just in time to hear Damon's voice, suddenly cold.
"Someone's peeping."
Tracy's voice followed, unconcerned and sweet. "It doesn't matter. We're getting married today."
Alexander wanted—despite herself—to look again.
But she knew better.
One more minute in that hallway meant punishment. Torture. Starvation that could last for days.
Alexander panted as she fled down the corridor, her dress soaked through and clinging to her back. Beads of sweat slid from her hairline as she pushed herself toward the door ahead. By the time she reached it, exhaustion had already caught up with her—her chest heaving, her limbs heavy, her face drawn with fatigue.
"What nonsense!"
The sharp voice that had spoken earlier cut into her ears. Alexander snapped upright, stiff as a blade.
Her eyes locked onto the woman before her, whose expression twisted with open disgust. The maids nearby immediately retreated, heads bowed low, making themselves small.
The longer Alexander stared, the more fear crawled up her spine.
"I heard from the butler that you spent the night in your room," her stepmother, Jezebel, said coldly. "And now you want to spend the morning there too. Since when can you afford such luxury?"
Alexander's legs shook. She tried to answer, but her voice wouldn't come. Her lips trembled uselessly.
Jezebel arched an eyebrow, studying her. "I see your workload has become too light," she said, almost thoughtfully. "I'll have the butler increase your duties at once—"
Before she could finish, the door flew open.
Gideon—Alexander's father and Jezebel's husband—strode in, laughing boisterously.
The maids dropped to their knees at once. "We greet the Elder."
Gideon didn't spare them a glance. With a sharp wave of his hand, he dismissed them. They hurried out, shutting the door behind them.
After the maids left, Gideon—Alexander's father—finally noticed her. She stood close to the wall, trying to make herself invisible.
Gideon's brows knit in displeasure. He didn't value this daughter of his. She had refused to go to school, she was "ugly" by their standards, and she hadn't transformed during her coming-of-age ceremony—useless, in his eyes. Still, something about her silence bothered him, especially when he was standing so close and she didn't address him as "Father."
He frowned. "What are you doing here? And why are you still undressed?"
Jezebel answered quickly, "She refused to do her work—"
"I'm not interested," Gideon cut in. "Let her have the day off. Get her a new dress. Tonight is Bonding Night. She might get lucky and find a mate."
Jezebel clenched her teeth, but she didn't challenge him. Instead, she turned sharply to Alexander. "You may leave."
Alexander stepped out. She'd barely taken a few steps when Gideon's voice stopped her again.
"The bonding is public now," he said. "No more secrecy. No more 'finding your mate' nonsense. In front of everyone, our daughter Tracy will be bonded to Alpha Damon."
Jezebel's voice lit up—excited, almost breathless. "If that's true, let night come quickly. I've been waiting for this day…"
A mocking smile tugged at Alexander's lips. For a moment, she'd almost thought her father cared. But his words made the truth clear: the dress wasn't kindness—it was appearance. He didn't want the pack to see just how little he valued her.