The warehouse smelled of rust, blood, and something darker—something that clung to the bones like fear. My wrists ached from the iron cuffs digging into my skin, but I didn't cry. Not anymore.
Crying had stopped working a long time ago.
"Stand still, girl," barked my stepfather, shoving me forward with a growl. "You're lucky anyone's even willing to take you."
Take me? No, sell me.
That was what this was. A sale. A transaction.
Me? I was the merchandise.
I stared at the cracked concrete floor beneath my bare feet, refusing to look at the man who had raised me—not out of respect, but because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears in my eyes.
"I should've let the rogues take her," he muttered under his breath. "Stupid cursed omega. Worthless."
My hands clenched into fists. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him I wasn't cursed. I just… didn't shift. That didn't make me broken.
But I said nothing.
Not when the doors to the warehouse opened and the atmosphere changed.
He walked in like a shadow given flesh—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black from head to toe. His silver eyes swept the room once, and every single werewolf there lowered their heads without being told.
Even my stepfather.
That was him.
Kyren Blackthorn.
The heir to the Shadowfang Pack. The ruthless Alpha Prince everyone feared.
He didn't spare me a glance. Just walked past, handed a contract to my stepfather, and dropped a black leather pouch onto the table. The sound of coins clinking echoed like thunder.
"That's it?" my stepfather asked, looking nervously between the pouch and Kyren's stone-cold expression.
Kyren raised one brow. "Do you have a problem?"
My stepfather quickly shook his head. "No, no, Alpha. She's yours now."
Those words struck deeper than the chains ever could.
She's yours now.
---
Outside, the night was quiet. Cold wind brushed my cheeks as I was led to a sleek black SUV waiting near the gates. No one spoke to me. No one looked at me.
I might as well have been invisible.
The leather seats felt too soft beneath my bruised skin. As the car pulled away, I glanced out the window one last time.
My home—if I could even call it that—faded into the shadows.
Good riddance.
---
The ride to Shadowfang territory was long, winding through forested roads and steep hills. The deeper we went, the heavier the air became.
Something ancient lurked in these woods. I could feel it.
By the time the SUV rolled up to the massive gates of the Shadowfang Pack, my stomach was tight with knots.
They opened with a mechanical hiss, revealing a world far more dangerous than I had imagined.
Black stone towers spiraled into the clouds, silver banners bearing the Shadowfang crest swayed in the wind, and warriors in obsidian armor stood like statues guarding every entrance.
This wasn't just a pack.
It was a kingdom.
And I was the unwanted gift sent into its heart.
---
Inside the main hall, the air was thick with dominance. Every step echoed, every glance from the guards felt like a warning.
When the doors opened, and I was led into the throne room, my breath caught in my throat.
Kyren Blackthorn sat on a black throne, carved from dark marble and iron. He looked as untouchable as a god—expression unreadable, one leg casually draped over the other, his chin resting on his hand as he studied a report.
He didn't even look at me at first.
"Alpha," said the man beside me, bowing deeply. "She's here."
Kyren's gaze lifted slowly. And then, he looked at me.
My heart stopped.
There was something sharp in his stare. Something old and cold and unrelenting.
His nostrils flared. His body tensed. And then, something shifted in his eyes.
Recognition?
Shock?
Rage?
He stood in a single, fluid movement.
"You—"
He stalked toward me, slow and deadly.
Everyone in the room held their breath.
Even me.
Kyren Blackthorn stopped right in front of me.
He was taller than I imagined. Towering, broad-shouldered, with midnight-black hair that curled slightly at his collar and silver eyes like storm clouds ready to burst.
His scent hit me like lightning—pine, firewood, and rain.
And then it happened.
A sharp pull deep inside me. My chest clenched. My skin burned. Something ancient stirred in my blood like it was waking up from a thousand-year sleep.
Mate.
The word echoed in my head like a bell tolling in the distance. It wasn't mine. It was hers. My wolf. She had been silent my whole life. Until now.
But as soon as the word landed, Kyren's jaw tensed. His eyes flickered with rage, then disgust.
"No," he said coldly.
He turned to his Beta.
"This must be a mistake."
My heart shattered in one clean break.
Mistake?
Kyren took a step back like I was filth. His voice echoed across the grand marble hall, low and dangerous. "There's no way she is my mate. This… pathetic thing?"
Laughter rippled through the guards around us.
"An omega?" someone muttered.
Kyren's eyes locked on mine—ice meeting ice. "I, Kyren Blackthorn, reject you as my mate."
My knees nearly buckled.
Pain exploded in my chest. Real pain. Like something was being torn from my soul.
I doubled over, gasping for breath as my body screamed from the inside.
My wolf cried out.
"No—!" she roared. "He's ours! He's—"
Then silence.
She vanished as quickly as she had come.
Kyren didn't blink.
He turned his back on me without another word, walking up the steps to his throne.
I was left on my knees, breathing hard, humiliation burning hot in my veins.
My first moment in this pack.
And I had been publicly rejected.
---
A voice echoed behind me. A feminine one, soft but laced with venom. "The mighty Alpha Kyren nearly mated with a nobody? How quaint."
I turned slightly and saw a tall, elegant girl with silver-blonde hair and a cruel smile.
Her arm slid around Kyren's like they were born to fit together.
"Maybe next time, they'll bring you someone worthy," she purred.
Kyren didn't look at me again.
---
That night, they locked me in a small room beneath the servant's quarters.
No windows. A thin mattress. No food.
I sat in the darkness, wrapping my arms around my legs, fighting the cold and the ache inside me.
My wolf was silent.
Rejected.
Broken.
But something else stirred in the back of my mind.
They think I'm weak.
They saw the bruises on my skin, the iron chains, the silent girl who didn't fight back.
They didn't see the fire.
Didn't feel the storm inside me growing louder.
Didn't know that deep, deep down, something ancient was beginning to wake.
A whisper echoed in the silence of my mind.
> "Not yet. But soon."
And just like that, the broken omega they all mocked… was no longer alone.