### Prologue: Cursed Under the Moon 🌙✨
**Lia's POV**
The air in the pack hall stinks of sweat and ale, thick with the stench of Lycans who think they own the world.
I clutch the tray of drinks tighter, my knuckles white, weaving through the crowd of leering men.
Their eyes crawl over me like I'm prey, and I hate it. I hate *them*. Lycans. Every single one of them. 🐺 Their growls, their smug grins, the way they look at me like I'm nothing but an omega to be toyed with—it makes my blood boil.
I'd burn this whole place down if I could, but an omega's got no power here. Not in this pack. Not after what they did to my family.
I spot an empty corner and head for it, desperate for a moment to breathe, to escape the weight of their stares. My worn boots scuff the wooden floor, and I'm almost there when a voice slices through the noise like a blade. Cold. Sharp. Unmistakable.
"Hey, Lia. Stop."
My body locks up, every muscle betraying me. My heart stumbles, and I curse under my breath.
An omega like me can't fight a Lycan's command—not when their alpha aura sinks its claws into your will.
I try to move, to pretend I didn't hear, to just *walk away* like I never stepped into this cursed hall. But my feet won't budge. It's like chains are wrapped around my soul, yanking me back.
"Turn around," the voice orders, low and cruel.
I grit my teeth, forcing my body to obey as I slowly pivot. My eyes land on him—Zara, the court warrior. Of course it's him.
His grizzled face twists into a smirk, his gray eyes glinting with something ugly.
He's sprawled in his chair, surrounded by other Lycans, their mugs raised like they're watching a show. The hall buzzes with their cheers, a low rumble that makes my stomach twist. Something bad's coming. I can feel it in my bones. 🌑
"What do you want?" I snap, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. "If you've got something to say, spit it out and let me go."
Zara stands, his broad frame looming as he steps closer. The crowd's cheers grow louder, egging him on.
My heart hammers, but I hold my ground, glaring up at him. He's all muscle and menace, his scent—like damp fur and iron—choking the air.
Then his hand snakes around my waist, pulling me close, and my skin crawls. I want to shove him off, to claw his face, to make him *pay* for touching me. But I'm just an omega, and he's a Lycan with power I can't fight.
I glance to the side, desperate for an out. Dorian's there, lounging at a table, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he sips his drink.
The eldest Alpha brother. Cruel. Heartless. The one who hates omegas like me most of all. His gaze flicks over the scene, but he doesn't move, doesn't speak.
Just watches, like I'm nothing. Like my humiliation is just another night's entertainment.
My chest tightens, a mix of rage and something sharper—betrayal, maybe, though I don't know why I expect better from him. 🥀
"Don't touch me," I hiss at Zara, my voice shaking but defiant. "Lycans like you are dirty. Impure."
The words are a mistake. I know it the second they leave my mouth. Zara's smirk vanishes, replaced by something darker.
His hand shoots up, grabbing my cheek so hard I wince. Pain stings through me, and I stare at the floor, shock freezing my thoughts.
The crowd's laughter rings in my ears, and I risk another glance at Dorian. Still nothing. He's just… drinking, his eyes fixed on his mug like I don't exist. Like he doesn't care.
Zara leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "You think *I'm* dirty, omega?" he sneers. "Let's see if you're so clean inside. Strip."
My blood runs cold. "What?" I choke out, my voice barely a whisper.
He chuckles, low and vile. "Take your clothes off. Let everyone see what you're hiding under that rag you call a dress."
The tray slips from my hands, crashing to the floor. Glass shatters, ale splashing across my boots, but I barely notice.
My hands move on their own, trembling as they reach for the buttons on my blouse. No. *No.* I scream inside my head, fighting the Lycan aura pressing down on me, forcing my body to obey. I can't stop it.
My fingers fumble with the first button, then the second, and the crowd's cheers turn feral, their eyes hungry. My heart pounds so hard I think it'll burst, and I look at Dorian again, pleading with my eyes. *Do something. Stop this.* But he just stares, his face unreadable, his silence cutting deeper than Zara's words.
Zara's aura grows heavier, like a weight crushing my chest. My hands move to the third button, and I'm shaking so hard I can barely breathe.
The fabric parts, exposing the edge of my collarbone, and Zara's smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction.
I want to scream, to run, to tear his throat out—but I'm trapped, my body betraying me, my omega blood no match for his power.
Then, a hand grabs my arm, yanking me back. I stumble, landing against a broad chest, soft but strong.
A growl rumbles through the air, low and dangerous, cutting through the crowd's noise like a blade. The hall falls silent, and I hear a voice—cold, lethal, shaking with barely contained rage.
"Who dares do this?"
My eyes lift, slow and trembling, and meet his. Rick. The quiet brother. The overlooked one.
His hazel eyes burn with something I've never seen before—pain, anger, maybe both.
He's not supposed to care. I almost killed him once, back when I thought I could fight my way out of this hell.
I hated him, hated all of them. Yet here he is, his arm around me, shielding me from Zara's gaze. My heart twists, caught between relief and distrust. Why is he helping me? What does he want? 🐾✨
---