Chapter 1: The Forgotten Daughter

RAVEN

The morning air is crisp with the scent of pine and damp earth, but to me, it smells like another day in hell.

I crouch on my hands and knees, scrubbing the stone floor of the Nightshade Pack’s communal hall. The rough bristles of the brush bite into my palms, the cold water seeping through the torn fabric of my dress. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifts in from the kitchen, a cruel reminder that I’ll only eat if there’s anything left—if they decide I deserve it.

Laughter echoes from the far side of the hall. I don’t need to look up to know she’s watching me.

“You missed a spot, sister,” Seraphina calls, her voice dripping with amusement. “Right there, by my feet.”

I tighten my grip on the brush, forcing myself to keep scrubbing. Ignore her. Don't give her the reaction she wants.

I learned a long time ago that defiance comes at a cost, and Lilliana is always watching, waiting for an excuse to punish me.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Lilliana glides into the hall, her presence commanding attention. Draped in silken robes that accentuate her regal bearing, she is every bit the Gamma’s wife—a title she stole through manipulation and deceit.

“Seraphina, darling,” Lilliana coos, running her fingers through her daughter’s golden curls. “Don’t waste your voice on the help. She’s barely worth speaking to.”

Seraphina giggles, tilting her head just enough for her mother to kiss her forehead. “I suppose you’re right, Mother. I just enjoy watching her grovel.”

My teeth clench, but I keep my focus on the floor. One stroke, two strokes, breathe. One stroke, two strokes, don’t break. The stone beneath my hands blurs, but I refuse to let them see my anger.

The door creaks open, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickers in my chest.

Victor strides into the hall, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his presence still commanding respect even after years of burying his spine beneath Lilliana’s control.

Maybe today he will acknowledge me.

Maybe today he will see me.

Maybe—

He walks past me without a glance.

Without a word.

Like I don’t exist.

Lilliana straightens, a pleased smile curving her lips as Victor presses a kiss to her cheek. “The warriors are preparing for training,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through the hall. It used to comfort me when I was younger. Now, it only reminds me of what I lost.

“We need to discuss our strategy for the upcoming border patrols.”

“Of course, my love,” Lilliana purrs, slipping her arm through his. “Shall we discuss it over breakfast? The cooks have prepared your favorite.”

Victor nods, and with a final glance at Seraphina, the pair disappear down the hall.

I let out a slow breath, tension leaving my shoulders. But I’m not safe yet.

Seraphina rises gracefully, sauntering toward me with the slow, deliberate steps of a predator toying with its prey. She crouches, reaching out to lift a damp strand of my black hair.

“You should really do something about this, sister,” she whispers. “You’re starting to look like a stray dog.”

I jerk my head away from her touch, my stomach twisting as her nails scrape against my scalp. “I’d rather be a stray than be like you.”

Her expression darkens.

The slap comes so fast I don’t have time to brace for it. A sharp sting blooms across my cheek, but I refuse to react.

Seraphina wants a reaction. A sign that she has won.

I won’t give it to her.

“You will never be anything,” she hisses, her voice low and full of sick satisfaction. “Not here. Not anywhere.”

I meet her gaze steadily, forcing my face into blank indifference.

“Are you finished?” I ask, my voice steady despite the fire in my veins.

Seraphina smirks, straightening. “For now.” She flicks her golden curls over her shoulder and strides toward the exit. “Don’t forget to clean up your own mess.”

The moment she’s gone, I let myself breathe.

The sting on my cheek is nothing.

I’ve endured worse.

A shadow moves in the doorway.

“You should’ve hit her back.”

I turn to find Elara standing there, arms crossed over her chest. Her sharp hazel eyes see too much, the way they always do.

She’s the only one who treats me like a person rather than a servant.

“And give Lilliana another reason to have me locked in the cellar?” I scoff, wiping my hands on my ragged dress. “No, thanks.”

Elara’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she steps forward, dropping a small cloth-wrapped bundle onto the floor beside me.

“I stole some bread and cheese from the kitchen,” she says. “Eat before they find an excuse to starve you again.”

Gratitude swells in my chest. “You shouldn’t risk yourself for me.”

Elara snorts. “You’d do the same.”

She’s right.

I take the food, eating quickly and efficiently. Moments like these are rare, and I can’t afford to waste them.

Elara crouches beside me, voice dropping to a whisper. “You need to get out of here, Raven. If you stay, they’ll break you.”

I swallow hard. “And go where? Rogues don’t last long in the wild.”

Elara meets my gaze, fierce and unwavering. “Then we make sure you’re not just another rogue.”

I look away, my hands clenching into fists.

Leaving means stepping into the unknown.

Alone.

Unprotected.

But… staying?

Staying means living like this forever.

Elara seems to sense my hesitation. She sighs, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve heard rumors. There are packs beyond our borders that don’t follow the same rules. Some don’t even have Alphas.”

That catches my attention. I keep my expression neutral, but I can’t ignore the flicker of curiosity.

“And you think I’d be welcome there?” I murmur.

Elara shrugs. “I think you’d survive.”

A flicker of something deep in my chest ignites.

Hope.

Determination.

Or maybe just pure, stubborn rage.

Surviving is something I’ve spent my whole life doing.

But one day, I’ll do more than survive.

One day, I will rise.

And they will all regret underestimating me.