EMMA
"Where is that whore?" Vera's voice thundered through the corridor like a whip on my skin.
Hours of scrubbing had left my knees raw and my fingers cracked, but I dared not pause now. Not if I didn't want a repeat of last week's punishment. I'd been scrubbing the banquet hall since dawn to prepare for Vera's engagement to the Triplet Alpha heirs tomorrow.
I sighed, smearing the sweat and grime from my cheek with the back of my wrist. I didn't need to ask what I'd done. If Vera was looking for me, there was a punishment waiting.
There always was. I blinked back to the present as Vera's sharp heel slammed into my arm, sending the brush skidding across the floor. I hissed quietly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from reacting and spending another night in the cold cell.
"Haewww," she grimaced, waving a hand dramatically in front of her face. "You smell like rotten eggs, sister."
The word sister burned deep, and my stomach twisted in irritation as I searched my head for a response but found none. Every time she called me "sister", it felt like a curse. A cruel reminder that although we shared the same blood, I was the bastard. Born of a woman who scrubbed floors just like I did now. A woman they called a whore. A stain on the Pack's image.
She let her gaze travel slowly down my body, as if the sight of me in my rags offended her eyes. Sometimes I wondered if she was truly my sister.
"You missed a spot," she sneered, then tossed a robe into the dirty water I'd just wrung out. "Here's my Luna robe, wash it again. If there's even a wrinkle, I'll have the guards give you a dose of last week's punishment."
Vera was the chosen Luna of the Alpha triplets — Xavier, Xander, and Xerxes. I picked up the robe, careful not to meet her eyes. The fabric was delicate and far more valuable than I was. A single stain and she'd make sure I didn't eat for days. She turned and strutted out of the hall.
I turned to carry it out of the hall, only to be smacked hard across the ass by one of the guards.
"Move faster, whore," he growled with a sneer. "Try not to get your stench on the future Luna's dress."
I bit down a retort, recalling how they all started calling me a whore. It was the night they killed her. That same night, everything changed. I was ten, shivering outside the Pack House in the snow as they accused my mother of trying to poison the Luna. They dragged her into the courtyard under the full moon, her hands tied, and her face streaked with blood.
I screamed and tried to run to her, but a guard held me back. Then they slit her throat in front of me. I screamed until my voice broke. That night, I fell asleep crying in the servant quarters. Layla, my mother's sister, held me tight, trying to hush my sobs.
And in the dark of that horrible nightmare, I woke up choking on air, only to realise that something heavy locked around my neck—a collar. They told me it was to protect the Pack from what lived in me. When I asked what that meant, someone slapped me so hard I didn't ask again. Unknown to me then, the collar meant something else entirely. And by tomorrow, I'd learn what it meant.
"The Triplet Alphas are back!!!" Someone screamed at the end of the hall, and a jolt coursed through my body. It was shameful that even after what they did to me six years ago, I still had a crush on them.
My spine tensed when Vera ran out to the courtyard, throwing her hands around them. Xander grinned and flung his arms open "Come here, baby."
Vera kissed him hard, a low moan escaping her lips as Xavier stood close behind her, nuzzling his head in her neck as she dragged her nails down his chest.
I scoffed, barely keeping the bile in my throat down. Three Alphas, and this is what the Moon Goddess matched them with? A venom-lipped, title-thirsty viper who couldn't even keep her legs closed? She didn't know it, but I saw her that night.
Xerxes, the third triplet, stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. He leaned in close to bite her ear before saying something in her ear. Whatever he whispered made Vera shiver and bite her lower lip. My throat burned as I stared, a jagged ache twisting behind my ribs. Would I ever find my mate? Would anyone ever look at me like that—with desire, with hunger, with anything other than contempt?
Then Vera looked up and smiled.
"Enjoying the sight, little sister?" She sneered, and the triplets turned almost immediately to regard me.
I had never wished for the ground to open up and swallow me before, but now, I did. Their hatred and disgust burned through my gown, making my skin crawl. The triplets had always hated me, even as children; they found ways to make me bleed. But there was one day… one strange, golden day six years ago when everything shifted.
Xavier brought me honey bread from the kitchens and sat beside me like I wasn't an omega. Xander defended me when one of the warrior pups called me a mutt. And Xerxes—he smiled at me. Not the cold, mocking smirk I knew, but a real smile, like maybe I wasn't invisible after all.
I still remember how warm the sun felt on my skin that afternoon. How, for once, I didn't want to run and hide. How Xavier had kissed me under the harvest moon. My first kiss.
But the next morning?
While Xavier shoved me into the mud, Xander sneered at me like I'd betrayed him, and Xerxes ignored me. No one ever spoke about what changed. No one told me why. And I've spent every day since wondering what I did wrong that broke whatever that one day was.
"Are you too dumb to greet us?" Xavier, the eldest of them, growled at me, a cynic expression grazed his face.
"Good evening, Alphas. Welcome ba–back." I lowered my gaze and curtsied before them, but none of them responded; instead, they turned into the Packhouse.
Fatigue and tears weighed me down when I finally stumbled back to the servant quarters. Layla, my aunt and mother's sister, pressed a damp cloth to my bruised cheek. I sank onto my straw mattress, wincing as the wood scratched my back. She handed me a crust of stale bread, the exact opposite of the rich food the guests were having in the Packhouse.
"Eat," she said softly.
"Thank you, aunty."
"You'll be eighteen tomorrow," she said, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead. "Time moves so fast."
I scoffed. "There is nothing to be happy about tomorrow, Aunt Layla, and you know it."
Her eyes softened. "You can never be too sure, Emma. Maybe this year will be different. Have faith."
I didn't believe her, but I didn't have the strength to argue with her. My birthday only held sad memories for me. My mother was murdered on my birthday, and the year before, I had lost my only friend in the Pack. I didn't see the need to be happy about tomorrow.
I leaned against the wall, staring at my bruised palms. I didn't feel like someone fate would choose; I felt like something forgotten. I closed my eyes as Layla tucked a blanket over my legs. Memories swirled in my head: my mother's smile, her whispered words, and my own scream. I ran my fingers over the collar around my throat; it itched more than usual tonight.
Thinking of my mother's final smile and last whisper, I closed my eyes and whispered into the darkness, "What did you say on that night, Mother?"
"You should sleep. Tomorrow will be long."Aunt Layla patted my back before blowing out the candle.
I said nothing in response, unaware that tonight was the last night I'd ever be invisible.
Because tomorrow, something would happen.