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When I was six years old, my father tore my throat open with his claws. He aimed for my vocal cords. He said my singing was a weapon. He said my mother was a temptress, a danger, and I had inherited her curse. He said it was for the good of the pack. I haven't spoken a single word since. Ten years. I learned to speak with my hands, to walk with my head down, to stand still while my brother fastened a dog collar around my neck. He holds the remote. Every time he shocks me, the dining table erupts in laughter. My father put my plate on the floor and pressed his foot on the back of my head, shoving my face down. “Eat like the dog you are,” he said. So, I did. Because I was hungry. Because I no longer remember what it feels like not to be. Tonight is different. They drugged me, shoved me into a car, and drove me into another pack's territory. My father lied to the Alpha standing at the gate—told him I was nothing but a servant. They hid a tiny vial on my body before we crossed the border. I don't know what was in it. Poison, maybe. A weapon, probably. I threw it out the window before anyone could see. The car stopped. A massive man stood at the entrance of the pack house, arms crossed, eyes like a blade. Alpha Jaxon. One of the most ruthless Alphas in the country. He looked down at me—and his gaze stopped on the collar around my throat. “Why do you wear a collar?” he demanded. --- Riley’s POV I was only six years old when I broke the first of many of my father’s cardinal rules. Although he had drummed it into me, since I was born, I forgot on that one awful day. Lost in the warmth of the summer’s sun, enveloped by the cheerful atmosphere as pack members and other children ran around playing recklessly, my spirits had risen and unbeknownst to me, my father had watched from the pack house as I skipped forward, my voice rising in majestic angelic tones as I sang from a space in my heart, where all of my pain and all of my hurt was washed away in a sea of calm and serenity. I had never felt so at peace or so in tune with myself. A child singing should not be enough to warrant a punishment. At least, that’s what I imagined. I was young, foolish, and hadn’t realized the extent of my father’s rage or hatred of me. I was still innocent. I was still naïve. I was stupid and I paid the ultimate price for it. A hand clasped itself around my throat, strangling me in mid-song, effectively cutting me off. I clawed at the hand, trying to frantically break its grip, my nails scratching and gouging, my legs kicking futilely as I was lifted or rather hoisted off the ground with remarkable ease. He turned me to face him. I was speechless. I had never seen my father so furious before. My eyes slid to my brother Damien, beseeching him to help me, but he shook his head and looked away, a resolute expression on his face. It was not the first time my brother had failed to come to my aid, but it was the first time I realized how much he hated me as well. In this instance I was well and truly alone. Tears poured down my face, while I struggled to gasp in air. I could feel my heartbeat racing, my forehead beading with sweat. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes bulged in panic. My father’s eyes narrowed as he brought me close to his face, his lips inches from my ear. “What did I tell you about singing? I told you before that it’s expressly forbidden” he snarled, shaking me like a limp rag doll as I silently cried, my eyes begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry Father” I wheezed, as his hand loosened ever so slightly, allowing me to draw in some much-needed oxygen. “Sorry” he roared, the pack members turning to face us all with curiosity, some even shocked by the Alpha’s animosity towards his own daughter, something that would no longer shock them in the years to come “You’re sorry?” he repeated dangerously while still holding me firmly in his grasp, his eyes glittering “You have no idea what you just came close to doing” he breathed. Confusion warred inside of me. How could singing be considered so dangerous? Why did it warrant such a strong reaction from my father? I didn’t understand. The other children could sing, why couldn’t I? Was it because it reminded him of my mother? He never spoke of her, and I had no photographs or clear memories of the woman who had died giving birth to me. My father refused to answer my questions and eventually I stopped asking about my mother altogether. “It won’t happen again” I stammered, as he slowly lowered me back onto the ground, his breathing heavy and his eyes blazing “I promise. I won’t forget next time.” He continued to study me, his eyes darkening, an indecipherable expression on his face. I wrung my little hands together, feeling anxious. The pack members went back to their business, but my father never took his eyes off, off me. My brother Damien left, heading for the pack house, as though he had some inkling of what was about to happen and couldn’t bear to witness it with his own eyes. Only two years older than me, but Damien was by far the favorite of the two of us. My father never had an angry word for him, only for his daughter, me. “It can never happen again” my father murmured, a strange gleam in his eyes “The power you yield, can only end in the destruction of our pack. You are an abomination. A disgrace to my family name. Your temptress mother fooled me but you, you will not” he vented out loud. Tears trailed down my face. I struggled to comprehend what he was saying. What he was telling me. I took a step back and fell, grazing my palm on the ground and letting out a cry of pain. It stung. My father’s body towered over me. I could feel my thin frame shaking as he tightened his lips. I held up a hand, desperate to prevent him from doing something to hurt me. He knelt, shaking his head. My breath hitched. His eyes flashed between his normal color and black. His wolf surged to the surface, only to be brought back under control. He was struggling internally with something. As young as I was, even I could sense his wolf’s distress at whatever he was about to do. I slid backward, but my father grabbed my arm, stopping me from running away. I couldn’t move. My eyes slowly slid down as I heard the distinct sound of his nails growing into claws. Fear turned my mouth dry. I began to panic. “What are you…” I whispered, my voice shaking. I gave a shriek as I saw his hand raise up high in the air. I saw him clench his jaw and grit his teeth. “This is for your own good and the good of the pack” he warned me solemnly. “Don’t” I screamed, the sound bloodcurdling and loud, echoing across the grounds. I felt the pain first. The excruciating pain as he plunged his claws into my throat, aiming directly at my vocal cords. It felt like my throat was on fire. My screams were abruptly cut off. I felt blood as I swallowed, my throat convulsing. I felt him drop me hard on the ground, my hands scrabbling uselessly at the hard grass. I thought I was going to die. I thought for sure that he had killed me for real this time. There was so much blood, so much pain. My father never said a word. He just watched as I curled up in a fetal position, in so much agony that at one stage I wished for death in order for the pain to be over. Eventually, it stopped. My wounds had slowly healed. The pain faded until there was nothing left. I gingerly sat up, weeping. I touched my throat, surprised to feel nothing shredded or torn. My father watched as I opened my mouth. Fear took over. I tried to form a sentence, a word, a sound. Nothing. Utter silence. The harder I tried to speak, the more my father looked amused, satisfaction taking over his face. “You can heal but even your body has limits” he murmured “I guess you’re too young to be able to heal something as extensive as vocal cords” he added nonchalantly. I stared up at him feeling betrayed. He looked pleased as he straightened up. My mouth opened and closed. He chuckled. “We no longer have to fear you forgetting my rule,” he said as I began to awkwardly climb to my feet “and you’ve seen what the punishment is for forgetting the rules I have in place. If you think that this is unjust” he paused and pinned me with a gaze so hostile that it paralyzed me “then consider what might happen to you, if you forget any of the other rules I’ve told you.” Silence. I understood the implications of what he wasn't saying. I shuddered. In one day I had lost what little childish innocence I had and what stood in front of me, resembled nothing more than a monster, instead of my own flesh and blood. He looked at me impatiently and waved a dismissive hand, wrinkling his nose “Go and get cleaned up. You’re covered in blood and smell disgusting” he grunted. I began to hobble towards the house, aware that everyone’s eyes were on me, some of them sympathetic, but the majority of them were cold or suspicious. I thought that day was the worst day of my life, but as the years passed, there were so many of them that it was impossible to pick out which day was worse than any other. By the time I turned sixteen, not only did my father torment me, but so did my brother Damien and the rest of the pack as well. Riley's POV Bruised, battered, beaten. I can feel the pack's eyes on me as I'm dragged to the center of the crowd. My hair covers my face as I fall to the ground, my knees hitting the hardness of the floor with a loud thud. My brother sneers at me as he spits on my prone form. "We should have known that you would always be a worthless and pathetic little one" he said loudly, the crowd echoing the same sentiments, while my father observes in the background, making no move to stop them. I keep my face covered. I hurt all over. My frame is thin, painfully so. My hair is a bright dark blue with tinges of black in it. No matter how much I dye it, it never changes color to my father's disgust. He forces me to wear contacts, covering up the glacial blue of my eyes and making them a dull brown color. I awkwardly get to my feet, the moonlight shining down upon my pale skin and causing me to look almost transparent in nature. I look nothing like my brother and my Father. Something else that my father abhors. Sixteen. A sweet birthday for most girls. A time when most dream of boys and a future as they get prepared to leave the pack for college. A serious birthday, especially for shifters, as it's the day when we transform for the first time into our wolf. Usually. It was approaching midnight however and I had failed to shift, something almost unheard of in a pack. It was considered the ultimate betrayal, worse than being human, to not possess your wolf. Tears shimmered in my eyes. I had suspected, when the morning light had broken and I remained whole, that my wolf would not appear, for I had never heard her, not once, in all the years I had spent in this pack. When midnight passed and it became the next day, we would know for certain. I would have given anything to have heard the sound of my wolf right then as the pack glowered at me as a whole. I stand, shivering in the cold, my arms folded tightly across my chest. The pack forms a circle, keeping me confined in the center. Their gazes are filled with hatred and hostility. My own brother looks triumphant as he eyes me coldly. There is no love lost between us. He has always hated me, courtesy of my father's influence. I'm grateful that he hasn't hurt me worse than he already has tonight. "It looks like we have an unwanted in our midst," Damien said loudly, as the pack continued to watch me, some glancing uneasily at the night sky as the minutes passed by "A shifter with no wolf. By rights, my sister here" he drawled, holding everybody's eyes as they looked to him, the next Alpha in line for the title "should be killed for being a hindrance to our pack." I stared him in the eyes, my hair moving to reveal mine. Part of me wishes to beg for death. It would be a good sight better than anything I have to endure in this pack. My brother's lip curls and I know that he's not going to let me get off the hook so easily. My father clears his throat and glances down at his wristwatch, tapping it pointedly with one finger "It's now past midnight and Riley James has failed to shift as witnessed by the Crescent Moon Pack" he announced solemnly "As Alpha it falls to me to deem what should now be done with an unwanted shifter. Unfortunately, she also contains Alpha blood, meaning that her life must remain whole" he added snidely. Who would have thought that being the Alpha's daughter would save me from certain death? It was almost laughable, it was that unjust. My brother looked at my father, disappointment on his face. The pack was silent. Anticipation flooded through the air. I knew this was not the end. The pack began to murmur amongst itself. "What good is she if she can't shift?" "She can't defend our pack." "She's useless. Even more than an omega is!" "At least an omega can shift. This girl has been weak since she was born." My father held his hand up, demanding silence. The murmurs slowly died down. Anger was palpable in the air. The crowd was restless. I stood still, waiting for the verdict. I felt hatred curdle inside my heart. This pack was filled with nothing but cruelty. I had suffered at the hands of everyone here, one way or another. There was no mercy, no sympathy and no kindness to be found in this pack. My father was ruthless and so was the pack. There were times I even found myself wishing that the pack would be taken over by another Alpha, just to give me a chance to prove I was worthy of something more than this miserable existence. "Now, now, settle down," my father said sharply. The pack shot mutinous looks at me. My father gestured for the women with children to take them to bed. They hurried away, without a second glance. This left me with the males, the warriors, and the omegas. The elderly never attended pack meetings. "I understand your frustration" my father continued as Damien winked at me, a smug expression on his face "and I sympathize with how you are feeling. I despise having such a blight upon my impressive lineage and am thankful that I have Damien to show off how impressive my bloodline is. I will not allow this girl to go unpunished, simply because she is an Alpha's daughter." The pack already knew that. I knew that. Damien was grinning widely now, almost rubbing his hands together in glee. I glared at him. Of all those that hurt me, he and father were the worst. "Damien" my father called out, causing Damien to reluctantly turn his head and regard his father with a serious expression on his face "as the next Alpha in line, I hand over the punishment to you. I believe that you will find one suitable for this, this disgusting piece of trash" he spat out, visibly shuddering as he looked at me. My brother chuckled. "Of course Alpha Maxwell" he was careful to use my father's title in this instance, out of respect. My father nodded "I leave you to it then" he said nonchalantly and then turned around, striding back to the pack house without another word while Damien stepped closer, a look of satisfaction on his face. I could see the vicious gleam in his eyes. I swallowed hard. Damien eyed the pack, of which there were still a considerable number. "Everybody line up in single file" he ordered, putting a random pack member at the beginning of the line, facing me. Before I could move, he stepped quickly behind me and I felt my arms being wrenched above my head and held firmly in place. I struggled silently. He chuckled lightly in my ear, as we watched the pack line up. "Hit her as hard as you can, one at a time, while she can't defend herself" he ordered the pack, keeping my body still "Let's see if she lives through this," he said smirking. "The Alpha said we couldn't kill her" one of the pack members tried to protest. Damien grinned "He did, but if Riley dies, he's hardly going to complain" he shrugged "And she's survived all manner of beatings, I doubt she won't survive this. It's freaky how she manages to heal without a wolf" he muttered under his breath, the pack members nodding in agreement. I saw the first pack member move a little closer. Damien wrenched my arms higher and I felt the first punch as the pack member hit me deliberately in my rib cage. I felt the bone break, my mouth opening in a silent scream. My vocal cords had never recovered from what my father had done to me when I was six and I was mute, further compounding Damien's joy. Tears pricked my eyes as the pack member moved to the side and the next one moved up to take his place. My side throbbed in pain, and I could feel a bruise forming already. "Pathetic little man, I hope this breaks you" Damien whispered in my ear, his voice venomous "You'll be wishing for death by the time this is over" he added gloating. I looked at the long line of pack members waiting patiently for their turn, all with wide grins on their faces, and forced the tears threatening to fall down my cheeks back. Weakness would only encourage them to go even harder on me. The second pack member reached back and then punched forward, hitting me in the sternum, and causing me to lose my breath for a moment. He flexed his knuckles and stood to the side. By the time we reached the end of the line, Damien was the only thing holding me upright. As the last pack member took their shot, Damien allowed me to drop bloody and bruised to the floor, tears flooding down my cheeks. I was in agony. I curled up in a fetal position, unable to move. He stood over me and grabbed my hair, yanking my head up to face him "Shame you're still alive" he grunted "But maybe you'll do us all a favor and die in the next few hours" he added, dropping me back down. He walked off without another word, while I lay there, wondering what I had done to make the moon goddess so angry with me and contemplating whether death was preferable to living. Riley's POV I survived. The next few hours were spent wallowing in pain and spitting up blood. Eventually, my father grew curious enough to come out and check on my condition. I felt him pick me up. His arms were not gentle as he carried me roughly back into the pack house. I was carried to my room. If you could call it that. Technically I live in the basement of the pack house. Where the dungeon primarily lies and where we put our prisoners and the rogues that we catch. My room is nothing more than a cell that contains a threadbare mattress, a blanket with holes in it, a dresser with clothes piled in it, and a small bathroom in the very back corner of the dungeon itself. They never bother to lock the cell door on me and keep me confined. What would be the point? I had nowhere to go. No family besides my brother Damien and my father. Once before, I had tried to escape and been caught. I had spent two days, chained up outside like an animal, while the rain poured down on my open wounds and scabs. The pain had been excruciating. The pack members had spat on me, thrown food at me, and even hit me when the guards hadn't been looking. I had learned a valuable lesson that day. Escape was futile. The only way out of this pack was death. At my hands or theirs. I wasn't ready to greet the moon goddess personally yet, but at this rate, I wasn't sure if it was going to be much longer. My father threw me into the cell that I called home, my body landing haphazardly onto the mattress with a soft thud. I guess I should have been grateful he didn't throw me onto the ground, with all the bruises and broken bones I had. As it was, I tightened my lips, glancing up to see him looking at me with darkened eyes and a strange expression on his face that I couldn't quite decipher. For a moment he surveyed me. Strange. His normal behavior was to look at me and then shake his head in disgust before walking away. My head turned and I eyed him curiously. I could not speak, but my eyes could speak volumes without even trying. He pointedly ignored my gaze. "You look more and more like your mother," he said, narrowing his eyes and looking me over even more carefully. It was not a compliment. I had heard on more than one occasion how much he despised my mother. How much he had hated her. That he had fought against the mate bond for so long until eventually, he took her life after she gave birth to me. I hated him for that. He could have just rejected her, like other shifters did. He didn't have to end her life, but he was cruel and a man. He chose to take something that was valuable and dispose of it. I stared at him defiantly. His lip curled. If I looked like my mother, I took it as a compliment, because it meant that I did not look like him or Damien. It meant that I had a part of somebody who did not possess the same qualities as them. I liked to think that my mother was kind and caring, even if the pack had nothing good to say about her, or nothing at all really. My mother was an enigma to me. A mystery and I would have given anything, to lay my hands on a picture of her, but my father had destroyed every single one of them in a fit of rage and none had survived. "Mark my words, If I didn't have a use for you" he murmured, coming closer and cocking his head, a strange light in his eyes "I would put my hands around your throat and kill you myself." A use for me? I wanted to laugh. There was nothing useful I could do. I possessed no wolf and could not shift. He had ensured that I could no longer speak. My eyes had to be changed with contacts and he had tried to dye my hair on numerous occasions only to give up when it changed back to its normal color within hours. "You have no idea what you're capable of" he muttered, that strange light still in his eyes "What your mother was capable of. She was dangerous," he said with a snarl "and so are you. If you had shifted today, you would be dead already" he added, causing me to stiffen. The irony. I was alive because I hadn't received my wolf, but he'd had me beaten and threatened to kill me because I hadn't shifted. Did he realize the hypocrisy? Either way, I lost. "If you had been a shifter and the other, it would have been perilous for us" he continued to mutter in a low tone. What other thing I want to scream at him, even as I stayed curled in the fetal position, my heart hammering in my chest. What was I? I was only a shifter, wasn't I? But the way he acted, the way he spoke to me, indicated that I was more than that. He almost made it sound as though my DNA was something to be feared and that made no sense to me at all. He came closer and I cringed. His hand moved to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. I shuddered. His touch was gentle, which was even more frightening. "So much like Andrea" he murmured, his voice filled with a hint of longing that made me glance at him sharply. Andrea was my mother's name. Was he confusing me with her? I held my breath, as he knelt next to me. He stroked my cheek and my hair. I blinked up at him, not daring to move or break the spell he seemed to be under. I didn't want to be hurt for reminding him of who he was speaking to. I was hoping that he might let slip something about my mother that he hadn't told me about her. "Why did you have to lie to me?" he murmured regretfully "If you had told me what you were, I may have accepted you in time. I may have loved you instead of fearing what you could do" he muttered, sounding slightly angry. I'm not Andrea, I wanted to shout. I'm your daughter. His hand drifted down my collarbone. I began to feel uncomfortable. This was not the touch of a father, but rather the touch of a man and his mate. This was not his usual behavior. His eyes were blank. His expression chilled me to the bone. "So beautiful" he whispered "But that's part of your tricks isn't it" he snarled suddenly out of the blue, gripping my throat as I struggled in his grasp "Using your beauty to lure men. I won't fall for it" he growled ferociously "you will not lure me to my death you disgusting creature" he roared. I beat at his hands, my eyes bulging. He continued to strangle me, his hands tightening even harder, staring down at me, and then suddenly his eyes began to focus and become clearer. His expression changed and he looked bewildered. He let go of me hastily and stood up, retreating backward. I looked at him, struggling to draw some air into my lungs. I was confused as to what had just happened. I was certain that he had thought I was my mother. He gave a low growl. "Be grateful that your punishment was not worse. Your brother did well in choosing and you got no less than what you deserved" he spat out venomously. He slammed the cell door shut. I heard the loud clanging noise it made, but he made no attempt to lock it. He sneered, as I remained helpless on the mattress, my eyes watching his every move. I was wary of him now. More afraid now that his behavior had turned so peculiar. "You're expected to resume your normal duties the moment you're able to move properly" he snapped "If I find you down here loitering then I will further punish you" he threatened "and it won't be a lenient one." It never was. I nodded slowly. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, opening his mouth, hesitating, and then slowly closing it. Whatever it was, it appeared he had changed his mind. "I guess I don't have to worry about you saying anything about what happened here tonight," he said mockingly. What had happened? He clenched his jaw and turned around, moving away into the pitch darkness. I heard his footsteps moving steadily away from the cells and then making their way slowly up the stairs. I heard the basement door open and close. Then all was silent. I gazed around the darkness of the basement, feeling a sigh of relief. I was in pain, my body throbbing and I was barely holding onto consciousness but at least my father was gone. He had frightened me when he called me Andrea. I knew that I bore a passing resemblance to her, but I didn't think I looked so much like her that he would grow confused between the two of us. I tried not to shudder, tried not to think about the way he had touched me. It had been almost loving. But he had hated my mother, hadn't he? Despised her? Why had his voice been so gentle then and so remorseful? Did he regret that he had killed her all those years ago? Did he miss his mate? I rolled over onto my back, wincing at the pain. The mattress had springs in it, some of them broken and digging into me. I was used to it and ignored the discomfort. I stared up at the ceiling. I could hear the sounds of mice nearby scurrying around as they looked for food. I was grateful there were no prisoners in the other cells to share the basement with. At least I would not have to deal with the sounds of screaming and crying as they were tortured for information or because my father enjoyed it. There was nothing but the sounds of the animals and the sounds of the wind outside. I would take one day to recover, at most. I gritted my teeth. My bones would knit together, my bruises would fade till they disappeared. The heat in my stomach would eventually dissipate and the throbbing would lessen. But the pain in my soul would never fade. The pain in my heart would remain along with the desire for revenge against those who hurt me. I close my eyes, and it seems like only seconds have passed before I hear the sounds of the basement door open again and feel the freezing cold water as it's tossed all over me, waking me up from a deep sleep and causing me to jerk into a sitting position in a panic.