Chapter 4: The Worthless Girl

SERAPHINA

I have always known my place in the world—above Raven.

It is a fact as unshakable as the moon itself, as natural as breathing. I am the true daughter of the Nightshade Pack’s Gamma, the one destined for greatness, the one groomed to be the perfect Luna, a mate to a powerful Alpha who will elevate me even further. I have been raised to be admired, envied, revered.

I am beautiful, refined, desired.

And then there is Raven.

A stain. A lingering reminder of Victor’s **first mistake—**his weak, dead mate who had the audacity to leave behind a child. A child who should have been erased along with her.

From the moment Raven took her first breath, she has been a blight upon our home. I’ve watched my mother work tirelessly to smooth over Victor’s guilt, to erase every trace of the woman who came before her. She took control of the household, shaped it into something strong, something worthy of the Nightshade name.

And still—**still—**Raven refuses to break.

I despise it.

That defiance—that quiet, simmering delusion that she is worth more than the dirt beneath my feet.

The sharp tongue. The unearned self-respect. The way she walks like she is something more than what she is.

Like she is not beneath me.

That is the worst part.

Because Raven is beneath me.

I have everything—beauty, status, a future. I am everything she is not and never will be.

So why does her very existence set my teeth on edge?

Why does seeing her watching the warriors with that wistful, pathetic longing make irritation curl in my gut?

Why does it feel like she’s waiting for something?

She is always lurking, always watching, as if she actually believes she belongs among them.

Pathetic.

I sneer as I watch her from the other side of the training ring, arms folded neatly across my chest.

She has no place here.

And today, I have the perfect opportunity to remind her of that.

My gaze flickers to the nearby wooden bench, where a warrior’s coin pouch lays unattended. The leather is worn from use, the gold inside glinting dully in the afternoon light. Someone must have carelessly left it behind after training.

A slow, deliberate smirk spreads across my lips.

Perfect.

I wait, biding my time, watching Raven out of the corner of my eye. She’s completely absorbed in the sparring match in front of her, her focus locked onto every movement, every strike.

She doesn’t see me step forward.

She doesn’t see me pluck the pouch from the bench.

And when she finally turns away, I slip it into her satchel without so much as a flicker of hesitation.

Satisfaction warms my chest.

Raven will never see it coming.

I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and let my voice cut through the courtyard like a blade.

"Stop right there!"

The command rips through the training grounds, sharp and piercing, carrying the weight of authority I know how to wield so well.

Heads turn. Conversations die. Warriors halt mid-movement, their eyes snapping to me.

And, just as I knew she would, Raven freezes.

She turns, just in time to see me storm toward her, my expression a perfect mask of righteous fury.

"You little thief," I spit, my voice thick with disgust.

Before she can react, I seize her satchel, yanking it from her grasp. I don’t hesitate. I tear it open, sending its contents scattering onto the dirt.

Scraps of parchment flutter down. A crumpled piece of fabric lands near her boot.

And then—

The warrior’s coin pouch hits the ground.

A moment of heavy, suffocating silence.

Then—gasps.

Murmurs spread like wildfire through dry grass. Warriors exchange glances, some with disgust, others with mild amusement.

After all, it’s just Raven.

She has no friends here. No allies.

And I know it.

Her **eyes widen for only a fraction of a second—**but I see it. The brief flicker of surprise. The tiniest crack in that insufferable cold exterior.

And then—it’s gone.

Her face hardens. Her jaw locks tight.

Seraphina: 1. Raven: 0.

I smirk internally. Caught.

"I knew it," I sneer, turning toward the warriors. "She’s nothing but a filthy little thief."

More murmurs. More judgment.

I bask in it.

I step closer, leaning in just enough to whisper for her ears alone.

"You’re nothing. And I will make sure everyone remembers it."

Raven doesn’t move.

She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t plead for mercy like a proper servant should.

She just stands there, staring at me with those sharp green eyes filled with quiet, simmering rage.

I hate that look.

That defiance. That stupid, misplaced pride.

As if she still believes she has an ounce of dignity left.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because Lilliana is already stepping forward.

And she plays her role beautifully.

"Oh, Raven," my mother sighs, shaking her head, her expression a perfect picture of sorrowful disappointment. "I truly hoped you would do better than this."

Her voice is gentle, heartbreakingly full of regret.

Some of the warriors shift uncomfortably.

Of course they do.

It’s a mother’s voice.

A voice that commands pity from those watching. That solidifies the pack’s perception of Raven as a lost cause.

I barely contain my glee.

"You’ve been given so many chances," Lilliana continues, her sigh deep and weary. "And yet, you choose to disgrace this pack with your actions."

Raven’s fists clench at her sides. Her nails dig into her palms.

But she says nothing.

I almost laugh.

What could she possibly say?

Who would believe her over me?

"I didn’t steal anything," Raven finally says, voice level, steady.

I let my mouth part **slightly, feigning shock—**even heartbreak.

"Are you calling me a liar?" I ask, voice delicate, wounded.

I turn toward the gathered warriors.

"You all saw it. The proof is right there. What reason would I have to lie?"

**Kellan—one of the stronger, more influential warriors—**shifts, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It’s not the first time something’s gone missing," he mutters.

I hide my smirk.

It doesn’t need to be true.

It just needs to sound true.

Lilliana sighs again, placing a hand lightly over her heart, as if this whole situation truly pains her.

"Raven," she murmurs, her voice thick with disappointment. "This cannot go unpunished."

There it is.

I feel the cold, sweet satisfaction of victory settle into my bones.

"Take her food rations for the next two days," Lilliana declares. "And since she seems to enjoy spending time near the training grounds, she can spend the night cleaning them. Alone."

Raven’s expression doesn’t change.

No begging.

No pleading.

Just that infuriating silence.

I smirk, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"Enjoy your meal, sister," I murmur. "Oh, wait. You won’t have one."

Then, without another glance, I turn and walk away.

And if I notice the way Raven’s fists tremble at her sides, I don’t care.

I have won.

Again.