Chapter 5
Kara
The final bell rings at 3 PM, and I'm already halfway out of my seat when I hear it—a groan so dramatic it could wake the dead.
"We're screwed."
I pause, glancing toward the back of Dr. Harrison's classroom. Sophia and Emma are still at their desks, staring at a sheet of paper like it's a death sentence. The "makeup assignment" Dr. Harrison just handed them—a full page of complex biology problems due tomorrow morning.
Sophia drops her head onto the desk with a thunk. "I can't even pronounce half these words. What the hell is 'mitochondrial respiration'?"
Emma whimpers. "We're going to fail. We're going to get kicked off the cheer squad. My mom is going to murder me."
I should leave. I should go straight home, scrub the floors Luna Victoria left for me, prepare tomorrow's party decorations, and survive one more night in that goddamn house.
But I don't move.
What the hell am I doing? My feet won't budge. You don't owe these girls anything. They didn't give a shit about you until this morning.
But that's not entirely true, is it? They talked to me. They called me funny. They said I had gorgeous hair.
When was the last time anyone said something nice to me?
Never. That's when.
I stare at their paper from across the room. Even from here, I can see the problems clearly. Cellular respiration. Protein synthesis. DNA replication. Basic genetics.
Child's play.
Ten minutes, I think. That's all it would take me. Ten minutes, and they'd be done.
And then—then what?
An idea sparks in my head. Dangerous. Desperate. Probably fucking stupid.
But maybe, maybe it's the only chance I've got.
Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. Tomorrow, I'll shift for the first time. Tomorrow, I'll finally have my wolf, my scent, my power. And tomorrow night, there's a party at Midnight Estate—a party full of wolves from neighboring packs, celebrating the triplets' official inheritance as Alphas.
If I'm lucky, one of those visiting wolves might be my mate. Someone strong. Someone from far away. Someone who could give me a reason—a legitimate reason—to leave this hellhole.
Someone who isn't them.
But right now? I look like absolute shit. Tangled hair that smells like the cheap shampoo I steal from the bathroom. No makeup. Clothes that reek of mildew and desperation. I'm not going to attract anyone like this.
Especially not when I'll be standing in a room full of glossy, perfect she-wolves who've never scrubbed a toilet in their lives.
And I don't have a single fucking dollar to my name.
Luna Victoria takes every cent I earn. "Debt repayment," she calls it. Bullshit. It's called slavery.
But Sophia and Emma? They have everything. Designer clothes. Credit cards. Access to stylists, salons, makeup counters.
Fuck it.
I take a breath. Walk over to their table.
"I can help you with that," I say quietly.
Both girls' heads snap up. Sophia blinks at me like I just materialized out of thin air. "What?"
"The assignment. I can do it for you."
Emma's eyes go wide. "You—you can? But it's, like, impossible—"
"It's not." I tap the paper, keeping my voice steady even though my heart is hammering. "Cellular respiration. ATP synthesis. Krebs cycle. I can finish this in ten minutes."
Sophia sits up straighter, hope flickering across her face. "Oh my God. Seriously?"
"Yes." I swallow. "But I need something in return."
There's a beat of silence. Emma leans forward, practically vibrating with eagerness. "Anything. Name it. Do you need money? We can pay you—"
"I don't want money." My voice is steady now. Calm. Like I'm negotiating a hostage situation instead of my own pathetic future. "I want you to give me a makeover."
Sophia tilts her head. "A... makeover?"
"Tomorrow is my birthday," I say. Each word feels like I'm pulling teeth. "I'm turning eighteen. I'll shift for the first time. And there's a party tomorrow night at the Estate—the triplets' inheritance celebration." I force myself to meet their eyes. "I want to look... good. Really good. I want to look like someone people actually notice."
Someone worth loving. Someone worth saving.
Understanding dawns on Emma's face. Her mouth forms a perfect O. "Oh my God. You want to find your mate at the party, don't you?"
I don't answer. But I don't need to.
The truth is written all over my face: I want to get the fuck out of here.
Sophia's entire expression shifts—from desperation to excitement in half a second. "Wait. Wait wait wait. Tomorrow is December first, right? That's also the triplets' birthday. You and the Sterling boys have the same birthday?"
"Yes." My jaw tightens. Don't think about it. Don't think about how they get a three-day celebration and I get a closet and cold leftovers. "But no one remembers mine."
Emma grabs Sophia's arm, her voice going high and breathy. "This is so romantic. If you shift on your birthday and meet your mate the same night—that's, like, destiny!"
Destiny. Right. If destiny were real, my parents wouldn't have dumped me like garbage. If destiny were real, I wouldn't have spent ten years being treated like a goddamn servant.
But I smile. I nod.
Because this is my only shot.
"Okay." Sophia stands up, suddenly all business. "Deal. We'll make you look incredible. Hair, makeup, clothes, everything. You help us pass this class, and we'll make sure every wolf at that party notices you."
Something loosens in my chest. Something small and fragile and hopeful.
It scares the shit out of me.
"Deal," I whisper.
Sophia's car is a silver Range Rover with leather seats so soft they feel like butter. The heat is cranked up to full blast, and for the first time all day, I stop shivering.
Holy shit. I sink into the backseat, my frozen fingers tingling as warmth floods through me. This is what rich people feel like all the time?
Emma slides into the passenger seat and twists around to hand me the assignment sheet and a pen. "Okay, biology genius. Work your magic."
I take the paper. Scan the problems. My brain shifts into autopilot—diagrams and processes clicking into place like puzzle pieces.
Mitochondria. Ribosomes. mRNA transcription. DNA base pairs.
Eight minutes later, I hand it back.
Emma stares at the completed page like I just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. "What the hell. You're not human."
"Just copy it over," I say, trying to sound casual even though my hands are shaking. "Change a few words here and there so Dr. Harrison doesn't realize it's the same handwriting."
Sophia glances at me in the rearview mirror, something like awe in her eyes. "Why aren't you, like, famous? You're literally a genius."
Because geniuses don't sleep in storage closets, I think bitterly. Because no one gives a shit how smart you are when you smell like bleach and desperation.
"I don't have time to be famous," I mutter. "I have... chores."
It's the truth. But I don't mention that "chores" means scrubbing floors until my knees bleed, cooking meals I'm not allowed to eat, and being treated like fucking furniture in my own home.
Not your home, the cruel voice in my head whispers. You're just the help.
Sophia starts the engine. "We're going to Nordstrom in Anchorage. Best selection in the state."
I freeze. My stomach drops. "I don't have any money."
Shit. Shit shit shit. Why did I agree to this? They're going to realize I'm broke and laugh at me—
Emma waves a hand. "Don't worry about it. This is part of the deal. You helped us—we'll help you. Besides," she adds with a grin, "it's going to be so fun."
I lean back against the seat, watching the snowy landscape blur past the window.
Is this real? My chest feels tight. Am I really doing this?
For the first time in ten years, I feel like I might actually have control over something.
Even if it's just one night.
Even if it's a stupid, desperate gamble.
Fuck it. What do I have to lose?
