Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1

Anya Pov

The whip slices through the air with a sickening crack, and a fresh wave of fire erupts across my back. I grit my teeth, the pain a brutal reminder of my place. My crime? I spilled a cup of water in the Alpha's office. A petty mistake, a common one, but for me, an omega, it is an offense punishable by pain.

Elias, the Alpha, stands over me, his face filled with cold satisfaction. He holds the whip loosely in his hand, symbol of his power. His boots, caked with fresh dirt, scrap against my back.

"You're a useless omega, Anya," he spits, a glob of saliva hitting the side of my face.

"A worthless piece of garbage." He presses his heavy boot down harder, a jolt of pain shooting up my spine.

"Did you forget your purpose? Did you think you were finally worth something?" His cruel laugh is a sound I hear in my nightmares.

"Get up," he snarls. "Clean up your fucking blood. And finish the work I gave you. Faster." He walks out, banging the door behind him.

With every shuddering breath, I drag myself across the floor, my muscles screaming in protest. I finish the work, then scrub away my own blood. I stopped crying for this life. The more tears I shed, the more joy it brings them.

When I am finally done, I do not run. I just walk, my pace slow and deliberate, a testament to the agony across my back. The packhouse is big, but not big enough to hide from their gaze.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts, no time for self-pity. As I make my slow, painful walk, I overhear a conversation from the common room. The she-wolves are whispering, their voices a low, excited hum.

"Tonight's the night. The Moonlight Ball!"

"And they say Alpha Kaelen Thorne is coming!"

I hear his name whispered over and over, Kaelen Thorne, the Alpha of the most powerful pack in the land, the Crimson Moon Pack. They speak of his power, how he commands not just respect, but fear.

They describe his good looks as something almost supernatural, with eyes as dark as midnight and a frame so powerful it could bring any wolf to its knees. Every eligible she-wolf dreams of being his Luna.

"He's a true Alpha, a king," one girl sighs dreamily.

"I hear he's ruthless, though. He has no heart," another chimes in.

"A heart of stone just means he's strong," a third girl reasons. "I'd give anything to be his Luna. Think of the power."

My heart hammers in my chest. A wolf like him, a legend in his own right, is a universe away from me. He is a walking disaster for any wolf who crosses his path. My life depends on being invisible, on not attracting the attention of a wolf like him.

A few of the she-wolves see me standing there, a pathetic, bruised figure clinging to the wall. Their whispers turn to snickers.

"Look at her," one says, her voice dripping with venom. "Thinking she's listening for her mate."

"As if," another scoffs. "As if an omega like her could ever get a mate. She'll be mateless her whole life."

Their words are like a physical blow, and I lower my gaze, nodding slowly. They are right. I know it. A wolf like me can never get a mate. The very thought is a joke. I have to stay invisible. That is the only place I am safe. I turn and continue my journey to my room, the sound of their laughter surrounding me.

I finally reach my room, the cold air a welcome relief against my wounds. My room is nothing. Just a cold, rugged space with a thin mattress and a single, locked door. But it is mine. It is the only place where no one can mock me or hurt me.

As an omega, I have no family, no voice, no rights. I am just the pack's punching bag. My existence is a constant life of submission, a forced silence to avoid more pain. My life is not my own; it belongs to them, to Elias, to anyone who feels the need to step on me to feel tall. I had just closed the door when a knock came.

"Anya! It's me."

Elara's voice is a bright melody, a burst of sunshine in my dark world. She is the Beta's daughter, the one person who sees past the omega brand. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees the cuts on my back, the blood seeping through my torn clothes.

"Oh, Anya. He... he did this to you?" Her voice is laced with pure outrage.

I just shake my head, not wanting to talk about it. "I have to finish my work."

"No!" Elara grabs my hands. "You are not finishing this. Come with me. I have to get you cleaned up."

She leads me to a quiet corner, pulling out a cloth and a bottle of antiseptic. The sting is sharp, but her gentle touch is a balm. As she works, she speaks, her voice low and furious. "I swear, I don't know why my father lets him get away with this. You are worth so much more than this, Anya."

"I know," I say. "We have to go to the ball."

Elara's face lights up, a brilliant smile chasing away her anger. "I know! And my father said we get to wear what we want. This is our night, Anya. I'm not letting you hide in the shadows anymore." She pulls a beautiful sky-blue dress from her bag. It is a simple but elegant creation, made of a fabric as soft as moonlight, a stark contrast to my patched, worn clothes.

"I won't take no for an answer," Elara says, her tone firm but kind. "You deserve this. You've been working too hard."

I stare at the dress, my throat tight. It is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and the reality of it feels like a heavy weight on my heart. I want to believe Elara, want to imagine for one night that I am a real wolf, not just an omega. But my instincts, honed by years of abuse, scream a warning.

"Elara, I can't. It's too much," I whisper, my voice breaking.

"Beautiful for an omega? No. It's perfect for a friend," Elara counters, her eyes unwavering. "And I'm not letting you go to that ball in rags. Don't worry, Anya. Nothing bad is going to happen tonight. I promise."

"They want me to go to remind me of my place," I whisper. "To be disgraced."

"Then we will go and show them they are wrong," Elara says. "Please, Anya. Nothing bad is going to happen tonight. I promise."

I want to believe her, want to believe that this single night can be a lie, a break from my reality. But I know better. I will be a worker, a symbol of my low status, but I have to survive tonight. My life depends on it. I just have to be careful. My survival depends on my invisibility.