Chapter 1 A Life in Hiding

Mira

The sound of a breaking plate echoed down the hallway before I even turned the knob to enter the kitchen. I stood there for a heartbeat longer, hand frozen on the door, breathing in the silence that followed.

Then her voice, sharp and seething. "Mira! Did you forget how to walk faster, or are you just enjoying your usefulness today?"

I pushed the door open, and I stepped into the kitchen like a prisoner entering a cell.

My stepmother Talia stood at the centre of the room, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip, the other pointing to the shattered plates like it was my fault gravity existed.

Her hair was curled in a lazy bun, not a single strand out of place. Besides her, my half-sister sat at the counter scrolling on her phone, smirking like she was waiting for her cue in the cruel play.

"You've got eyes, don't you? Clean that up." Talia's voice grated, cold and impatient.

I swallowed whatever words rose up my throat. Anger was dangerous. Anger made her worse. So I dropped my school bag by the door and crouched, carefully picking up each piece of porcelain. The floor was cold against my knees. The edge of the shards bit into my fingers.

"Be careful," my half-sister Sia said with mock sweetness. "We wouldn't want you bleeding on the floor you haven't mopped yet."

I didn't reply.

There is power in silence; it made them think they'd won.

But I knew better. Every scar they left only built the armour around me tighter.

I finished cleaning and headed to the sink to wash dust off my hands.

My fingers trembled as I turned on the water. Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe something else. I hadn't slept much again-same old dreams. Same blurry flashes of my mum, a storm, a scream, a shadow in the woods, and then...nothing. Just that burning emptiness where her voice used to be.

She died nine years ago. I was ten.

They said I killed her.

I blinked hard and shoved the memory away like a splinter under the skin. Some pain didn't fade. You just learnt to limp with it.

"Mira". My stepmother's voice again. I turned her eyes to rank over me. "After school, don't even think of coming straight home. The car shop called. Their cleaning girl quit again. You'll take over until they find someone less pathetic."

I opened my mouth.

"Don't talk back." She snapped. "You're already eating free food under my roof. Might as well work for it."

Free food. Right. The food I bought from my part-time jobs last week. The one they devoured while I stayed hungry and silent.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. Just before I left, I heard her whisper to Sia, "If only she'd died with her mother."

The door clicked behind me before I let the tears sting my eyes.

The cold wind bit into my face as I stepped out. Autumn in this town always had a certain cruelty to it-like even the weather knew how to bruise. I kept my hood up and headphones in, not because I listened to music but to drown the whispers when I passed by the others.

They never changed.

"Still hasn't shifted."

"She's 19 and still not wolf embarrassing."

"I heard she's cursed. Something about her mom's death..."

I walked faster. The streets blurred. My body moved on autopilot until I reached the gates of Crescent Hill High.

Inside it was the same story on repeat.

A shove against my locker, laughter echoing in the hallway.

"Ohh, sorry. Didn't see the invincible girls there," Aria sang, flickering her perfect hair. Nelly stood beside her, giggling like a wind-up doll.

I stepped away, gripping my books tight. I'd learnt not to flinch. That only gave them more reason to play harder.

"Still haven't sprouted a tail, runt?"

Aria's smile was all teeth. "Maybe your daddy should have mated with someone more... functional."

The words didn't hurt anymore.

Not because they weren't true. But because pain only mattered when you expected kindness.

And I'd stopped expecting that years ago.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of dull lectures and I didn't return. I worked two hours after school, scrubbing grease off the garage floor and wiping down muddy tires.

By the time I got home, the house was dark. No dinner, of course. Just a cold kitchen and a colder silence.

I stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror staring at the girl staring back.

Red hair- long curly, impossible to tame . Pale skin. Grey eyes are too big for her face. I looked like a ghost for a girl who never got to be whole.

But it wasn't the hair or eyes that haunted me.

It was the absence of everything else. No wolf. No strength. No shift. Nothing. Like something inside me was frozen. Waiting.

I reached up and rolled back the sleeve of my shirt.

There, hidden beneath years of secrecy, sat the mark I never let anyone see. A soft crescent on the inside of my back- faint , glowing silver in the bathroom light. I can only see it when I use a mirror.

The mark had been there since the night mom died .

And sometimes... just sometimes ... it shimmered when I cried.

I curled up in bed that night without dinner, blankets tucked around me like armor . Somewhere between sleep and memory, I saw it again .

The forest.

The scream.

The blood.

The wolf's eyes staring through the dark.

And a voice-distant and low-whispering words I couldn't understand.

But tonight something changed. For the first time, the voice ended with a word I understood.

"Soon"

I woke up gasping, clutching my wrist.