Aria's POV
The plate slipped from my hands and exploded across the marble floor.
For three seconds, nobody moved. The laughter from the dining room died. My heart stopped beating. I stared at the broken pieces scattered everywhere like tiny white bones, and all I could think was: This is going to hurt.
"ARIA!"
My mother's voice cut through the silence like a whip. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stormed into the kitchen. I didn't look up. I'd learned a long time ago that eye contact only made things worse.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, already dropping to my knees. The broken pieces bit into my skin through my thin pants, but I didn't care. "I'll clean it up. I'll pay for it. I'm sorry—"
"Sorry?" My mother's laugh was cold and sharp. "Do you know how much those plates cost? Of course you don't. You've never paid for anything in your worthless life."
My fingers shook as I picked up the larger pieces. Three days. I just had to survive three more days until my eighteenth birthday. Then I could leave this place forever and never come back.
"Mom, it's just a plate." My older sister Celeste appeared in the doorway, but she wasn't trying to help me. She never did. She was smiling, enjoying the show. "Though I'm not surprised. Aria breaks everything she touches."
The guests in the dining room had gone quiet. They were listening. The whole pack was here tonight for Celeste's pre-engagement party, and now they'd all know about the clumsy, worthless Thorne daughter who couldn't even carry dishes without destroying them.
"Get this mess cleaned up and get out of my sight," my mother hissed. She turned back to her guests with a fake smile plastered on her face. "I apologize for the disturbance. You know how difficult help can be to train."
Help. She called me help. I wasn't her daughter in front of these people. I was just a servant who happened to share her last name.
I cleaned up the broken plate, feeling every eye in that dining room burning into my back. My hands were bleeding from the sharp edges, but I didn't stop. If I stopped, if I cried, if I showed any weakness at all, tomorrow would be even worse.
Celeste walked past me, stepping over the mess like I wasn't even there. "Don't forget—after you finish here, the bathrooms need scrubbing. Dante and his family are arriving tomorrow for the engagement planning, and everything must be perfect." She paused, looking down at me with false pity. "Though I suppose nothing you touch will ever be perfect, will it?"
Dante Blackwood. Just hearing his name made my stomach twist with hatred.
The future Alpha of our pack. The strongest, most handsome wolf of our generation. Every girl wanted him. My sister was going to marry him. And me? I was the wolfless freak he'd spent the last ten years tormenting.
I remembered the first time he shoved me. I was eight years old, carrying books in the pack school hallway. He'd been twelve, already tall and strong, surrounded by his friends. He pushed me into the lockers so hard I saw stars. My books went flying. Everyone laughed.
"Watch where you're going, Worthless," he'd said.
The nickname stuck. For ten years, that's what he called me. Worthless. And maybe he was right.
I finished cleaning the kitchen at midnight. My back ached. My hands were cut and stinging. But I couldn't go to bed yet. The bathrooms still needed scrubbing, and if they weren't perfect when Dante's family arrived, my mother would make me regret it.
I dragged myself upstairs with a bucket and brush. The main house had six bathrooms, all of them huge and fancy. I cleaned them one by one, trying not to think about how tired I was or how much I wanted to sleep.
Three more days. I could survive three more days.
"Still awake, little sister?"
I jumped, splashing soapy water on my shirt. Celeste stood in the hallway, wearing an expensive silk nightgown. Her long blonde hair was perfect even at midnight. She looked like a princess. I looked like exactly what I was—a servant girl covered in cleaning supplies.
"Almost done," I said quietly, turning back to the bathtub.
"You know what's funny?" Celeste sat on the bathroom counter, swinging her legs. "Tomorrow is your birthday. Eighteen years old. The age when wolves get their first shift." She laughed. "But we both know that's not happening for you, is it?"
I scrubbed the bathtub harder, saying nothing.
"No wolf would ever want someone like you. Wolfless, weak, pathetic." Her voice was cheerful, like she was talking about the weather. "At least you're good for cleaning toilets. That's something, right?"
I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. Three more days. Then I'd be gone, and I'd never have to hear her voice again.
"Dante arrives at noon tomorrow," Celeste continued. "Try to stay out of sight, will you? I don't want him reminded that I have such an embarrassing sister. It might make him change his mind about the engagement."
She left, and I finally let the tears fall. They mixed with the soapy water in the bathtub, disappearing down the drain like they'd never existed.
I finished cleaning at two in the morning. My room was in the basement—the smallest, darkest room in the house. It used to be a storage closet. I had a thin mattress on the floor, one blanket, and a small lamp. That was it.
I collapsed onto the mattress, too tired to even change clothes. My body hurt everywhere. But in three days, I'd be free. I had money saved—stolen coins and bills I'd hidden over the years from serving at pack events. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me far away from here.
I'd go to the human city. I'd find a job, a tiny apartment, a new life. I'd leave Silverwood Pack behind forever. No more Celeste. No more disappointed parents. No more Dante Blackwood calling me worthless.
Sleep was just pulling me under when I felt it.
A stabbing pain in my chest, sharp and sudden. I gasped, clutching at my heart. What was happening? Was I sick? Dying?
The pain spread through my body like fire. My bones felt like they were breaking and reshaping. My skin burned. I tried to scream, but my voice came out as a strange, strangled sound.
No. No, this couldn't be happening. Not now. Not tonight.
But I knew what it was. Every wolf knew this pain. I'd heard my sister describe it when she was fifteen, gushing about how beautiful her first shift was.
My wolf was coming.
Three years late, in the middle of the night, in a basement storage closet—my wolf was finally coming.
The pain got worse. I crawled off my mattress, gasping for air. My fingers stretched and changed. Silver fur sprouted along my arms. Silver. That was impossible. Wolves in my family were always golden or brown.
And then I felt something else. Something pulling at my chest, like an invisible rope tied around my heart. It was pulling me somewhere, calling to me, demanding I follow.
Through the haze of pain and confusion, I understood what it meant. Every wolf knew about this feeling. It was the rarest, most powerful thing that could happen to a wolf.
The mate bond.
My wolf had found its mate.
The pulling got stronger, dragging me toward the basement stairs. I couldn't fight it. My wolf was in control now, desperate to find the other half of its soul.
I stumbled up the stairs and through the dark house, following the invisible rope in my chest. It led me to the front door. Outside. Across the lawn. Into the trees at the edge of our property.
And there, standing in the moonlight, I saw him.
Dante Blackwood stared back at me with wide, shocked eyes.
"No," I whispered, but my wolf howled with joy.
Dante took a step toward me, his own wolf rising in his eyes. "Mine," he growled.
The word hit me like a punch to the stomach.
My mate. My fated mate. The other half of my soul.
The boy who'd tormented me for ten years was the one the Moon Goddess had chosen for me.
And from the look on his face, he felt it too.