Stolen Mate

The pack didn't wait until dawn to decide I was cursed.

By sunrise, my cabin door bore claw marks—jagged lines scored deep into the wood. A warning. I traced them with trembling fingers, the splinters biting my skin. *Outsider. Traitor.* The words hummed in the air, unspoken but everywhere.

I walked to the infirmary with my hood up, eyes on the ground. My hands still worked. My herbs still healed. That had to matter.

It didn't.

Mara blocked the doorway, arms crossed. "We're fine without you."

"The fever tinctures need refilling," I said, clutching my basket.

"Rhea's handling it." She didn't move.

Rhea, the omega who'd never stitched a wound. "Let me show her—"

"No." Her gaze flicked to my wrists, where scent glands once pulsed. "You shouldn't be here."

The words were a shove. I stepped back, the basket slipping from my grip. Jars shattered, spilling yarrow and chamomile across the dirt.

Mara shut the door.

***

I ate alone by the well, chewing stale bread, when a pebble struck my shoulder.

"Cursed!" A child's voice.

I turned. A boy, no older than six, bared his tiny fangs. His mother yanked him away, hissing, "Don't touch her. She'll taint you."

The bread turned to ash in my mouth.

***

Lila found me at dusk, gathering firewood at the forest's edge.

"Elara!" Her voice dripped honey. "Let me help."

She wore Kieran's cloak—too large, swallowing her frame—and reeked of my stolen lavender. My stomach heaved.

"Go away," I muttered, stacking kindling.

She crouched, her smile knife-sharp. "You look terrible. Not sleeping?"

I gripped a branch until the bark bit. "What do you want?"

"To *thank* you." She plucked a wildflower, twirling it. "Without your… donation, I'd never be Luna."

The title punched through me. Luna. *His* Luna.

"They'll find out," I whispered.

She laughed. "Who? The elders? They're already planning our mating feast." She leaned in, her breath hot. "Kieran's a quick learner, by the way. So *devoted*."

My vision blurred. I lunged, but she caught my wrist, nails digging.

"Careful," she hissed. "No one believes a scentless wolf."

She shoved me back. I stumbled, roots scraping my palms.

"Oh, and Elara?" She tossed the flower at my feet. "The Alpha needs the infirmary cleared. You'll sleep in the old storeroom now. Less… distraction."

***

The storeroom reeked of mildew and rat droppings. I swept cobwebs with a broken broom, my only light a sliver of moon through a cracked window. My cot was a threadbare sack; my blankets, burlap. I curled up, shivering, and pressed my nose to my wrist.

Nothing.

*Nothing.*

A sob tore loose, raw and guttural. The walls swallowed it.

***

Days blurred.

I scrubbed laundry in the icy river, knuckles bleeding. Hauled water for the feast fires, shoulders burning. Ate scraps tossed outside the kitchen. The pack's eyes followed, wary and cold, while Lila's scent clung to Kieran's lodge—a taunt on the wind.

At night, I heard them.

Lila's laughter, high and bright. Kieran's growl, low and warm. Sounds that once meant safety. Now, they carved me hollow.

***

The worst was the howling.

Each evening, the pack gathered to sing to the moon, voices weaving into a fierce, beautiful chorus. I hid in the storeroom, hands clamped over my ears, but it seeped in anyway. My wolf writhed, desperate to join, to belong.

One night, I broke.

I crept to the edge of the gathering, hidden by shadows. The pack stood united, Lila at Kieran's side, his arm draped around her. Her howl rose first—clear, commanding. His answered, deep and resonant, and the pack followed.

My throat ached. I opened my mouth, but no sound came.

A hand gripped my shoulder.

Garrick. His bandaged arm had healed. "You shouldn't be here."

I jerked free. "Where else would I go?"

He hesitated, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch my scent. Found nothing. "You rejected the bond. This is your doing."

The accusation choked me. "I didn't—"

"Save it." He stepped back, lip curled. "A true mate wouldn't hide."

He melted into the crowd, leaving me colder than before.

***

Lila saved her cruelest blows for the full moon.

She cornered me outside the storeroom, Kieran's mark now a crescent on her neck. "The Alpha wants a private feast. You'll serve us."

"I'm not your servant," I spat.

She smirked. "Aren't you?"

In the lodge, I laid plates before them, hands shaking. Kieran barely glanced up, his focus on Lila's every word. His fingers brushed hers, and I dropped a goblet.

Wine splashed his boots.

"Clumsy," Lila sighed. "Apologize."

I knelt, wiping the stain. "Sorry, Alpha."

He stiffened, finally meeting my eyes. For a heartbeat, something flickered—recognition? Longing?

"Leave," he growled.

I fled, Lila's laughter chasing me into the dark.

***

That night, I found the lavender petal.

It lay crushed near the infirmary door, dried but still fragrant. My scent. My *life*.

I cradled it, tears falling. When I lifted it to my nose, the faintest whisper remained—a ghost of what I'd lost.

But ghosts could haunt.

And I was done hiding.