The air tasted like spray-on chemicals. It was hot. Too many bodies.
The grand hall was too bright. A trap.
Ella was in black. The wool of the dress was itchy against her throat.
She didn't try to 'blend.' She just found a corner behind a catering cart and stayed there.
The crystal chandeliers were humming. A noise that got inside her head.
She felt sick. A weight in her gut.
Sarah was close. The noise of her dress gave her away before she appeared.
She scanned the room.
Her gaze snagged on Ethan.
He was laughing. Holding a drink.
He looked too bright. Plastic perfection.
His sandy hair was damp. Stuck to his forehead. He looked real.
His smile made the air in her lungs vanish.
Suddenly, his head turned.
His gaze hooked into hers across the sea of bodies.
His smile faltered. Softened into something heavy.
He started moving. Pushing through the throng.
Ella froze. Her mouth was dry. Sarah was close. Ethan was close. But Ethan was slower.
Sarah stood on the stage. Tapping the mic. She looked magnificent. Iridescent fabric. Slick as oil. A viper in finery.
"Attention!" Sarah grinned. Her voice tight.
"Before the Alpha speaks, we have something special. A look at how... diverse our pack really is."
Ella went cold. Numb. *No.*
"Play it," Sarah barked.
The giant screen behind her hummed. A blast of cold, white light.
It wasn't a montage of pack achievements. It was the locker room.
The room died.
On the screen, the video was shaky. Overexposed.
Ella. Pinned against the lockers. Two girls ripping her shirt away.
The camera jerked. Zoomed in on her back.
The scars looked like raw meat under the fluorescent glare.
No sound. Just the visual violence.
"Oh god," someone whispered near Ella.
"Is that...?"
"Gross."
"No wonder she never shifts."
The whispers were a physical blow.
Ethan stood still. He stumbled.
He didn't look away from the screen. His mouth was open. Grey.
To Ella, it looked like a car wreck.
Sarah was still on stage. One hand over her mouth. Wide eyes.
"Oh! Who put that up there? Turn it off!"
But her eyes were cold. Sharp. She looked at Ella.
Everything stopped.
Ella moved towards the front.
People parted for her. Not with respect. They pulled their silks away so she wouldn't touch them.
She reached the base of the stage. Alpha Marcus stood there. He was a mountain of gold and power.
"Alpha," Ella said. Her voice was thin.
He didn't look down at first. He was watching Sarah. Smiling.
"Alpha, please," Ella reached for his sleeve.
He pulled back. As if she was a hot coal.
He looked at her then. His eyes were hard. "What do you want, Ella?"
"The video. Make her stop. It's... it was private."
Marcus looked up at the screen. The zoom on her scars.
"The pack sees what you are now," Marcus said. His voice was a physical weight. "You have no wolf. No dignity. You bring this rot into my hall, and you want me to hide it for you?"
"She stole it! She's the one who—"
"Sarah is the future," Marcus interrupted. He leaned down. His breath smelled of bourbon. "You are a defect. A stain on this gala. Don't ask me to choose a broken thing over my daughter."
He turned his back.
The silence of the room was worse than the whispers.
Every pair of eyes felt like acid on her skin.
She turned.
She ran.
"Ella! Wait!"
The voice was Ethan.
She didn't stop. She couldn't let him see her.
"Ella, please!"
She reached the trees.
The woods smelled of damp dirt. Darkness. It was a weight she could hide under.
"Ella! Wait!"
Ethan was close. His footsteps heavy on the grass.
Suddenly, the scent of cedar and old paper blocked him. A physical wall.
Roman.
He didn't just stand there. He occupied the space. A physical block of wool and heat.
He didn't touch Ethan. He just existed in his way.
"Let her go," Roman said. His voice was flat. Dead air.
"Move, Roman. She's hurting," Ethan shoved.
Roman didn't flinch. He caught Ethan's shoulder. A vice.
Ethan winced.
"Look at her," Roman leaned in. "She's running. You chase her? You're just another witness to the shame."
"I need to tell her—"
"She doesn't want to hear you."
Roman's voice turned heavy. Alpha weight pressing on the air.
"Not the boy she wanted to impress."
"Let her hide. Let her bleed in peace."
Ella watched from the tree-line.
Ethan's shoulders slumped. He looked at the dirt. Defeated.
He stepped back.
Roman nodded. His mouth curled into something like sympathy, but his eyes were stone.
"Go back," Roman ordered. "Divert the crowd. I'll find her."
"Take care of her," Ethan's voice was white noise.
"I always do," Roman said.
Ethan turned. Walking back toward the noise and the yellow light.
Roman turned his head. Slow.
He looked straight at the patch of darkness where Ella stood.
He didn't move. Stone-still. Unblinking.
Ella felt her skin turn to paper. A cold draft in her blood.
She turned. Ran.
Running into the darkness of the trees.
Running until her lungs burned.
Running until her legs gave out.
Running from the laughter. From Ethan's pity. From Roman's cold, knowing gaze.
The forest was a wall of rot.
Ancient trees hooked their branches into the sky. Strangling the moon.
Ella didn't care. She wanted to be small.
To disappear.
She hit the ground at the base of an oak.
Gasping.
Her dress caught on a root. Ripped.
Her skin felt tight. The scars were a sharp itch under the bone.
She pulled her knees up.
A raw, wet noise.
*Defect.*
*Freak.*
*Waste of space.*
Sarah's voice was a ghost in the canopy.
And Ethan.
That look. Soft. Pitying.
It was a weight. Crushing the air out of her.