The Abused Wolf

Name: The Abused Wolf
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

K.C Reads

Werewolf | Ongoing

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I watched my parents die. They tried to kill my wolf too. Then my fated mate rejected me Brutally. Publicly. I was beaten, starved, used, until I had no choice but to run. Now I live alone in a broken shack, far from any pack. Until I hear it a soft howl in the night. A pup. Left for dead. I save him. Raise him. Protect him like he's mine. I travel across pack lands searching for where he belongs... And that's when I meet him The Alpha no one touches. The cursed one. My second chance mate. He's everything I was told I didn't deserve. And he's about to find out exactly what kind of wolf I've become.

Fantasy Betrayal Alpha Age gap Romance Kickass Heroine Werewolf Age gap Comeback Second chance

Chapter 1 1

06-13 15:14

Chapter 1 1

The Abused Wolf

Chapter One

The Night They came

The fire crackles. Mom's humming again, low and soft, the way she does when she thinks no one is listening. She's sitting behind me on the floor, her fingers gently tugging through my hair. There's a blanket wrapped around my legs and the fur rug beneath me is still warm from where Dad was lying just minutes ago.

I like nights like this.

Dad's home. Mom is calm. There's stew on the stove, and the wind outside hasn't found its way through the boards yet.

I tilt my head back to look at her. She smiles when our eyes meet and kisses the top of my head.

"You've got the softest hair, baby girl. Just like your dad."

I smile back, and she starts humming again. I try to hum with her, but I don't know the words. It's not one of the pack songs. This is hers. Just hers. The kind she only sings when the doors are locked and Dad is home. I think it's old. Older than me, maybe older than our whole pack.

The front door rattles.

I freeze. Mom's hands stop moving. I hear the shift of Dad's chair from the table, the soft scrape of wood across the floor. My stomach clenches.

He doesn't speak. He just moves to the door, quiet, slow, his hand brushing the edge of the wall near where the emergency axe hangs. He doesn't grab it. Not yet.

I sit upright. The fire crackles louder now, the wind outside suddenly sharp, like it knows something I don't.

Mom grabs my wrist. Her fingers squeeze, not gentle this time.

"Go to the pantry."

My body reacts before I fully understand what she means. I crawl off the rug, blanket dragging, feet cold as they hit the wood floor. The pantry door creaks when I open it. I step inside and close it until there's just a crack.

I can still see the room.

Dad is still facing the door. Mom stands behind him now, tense, her hands clenched in front of her like she's holding something invisible back.

Three knocks.

Hard. Precise.

Then silence.

Then the door explodes inward with a crack that makes me jump. Cold air blasts in, and behind it come shadows-figures. Men. Wolves.

Black coats. Thick boots. One of them is Calder. I know him. He's Beta to Alpha Garrick. He gave me a ribbon for the winter festival last year. I remember his smile.

He isn't smiling now.

No one speaks. Dad lunges forward, but they're faster. Two of them grab his arms. Another swings and punches him across the jaw. He goes down on one knee. He tries to get back up.

Mom screams. She throws herself toward him, but Calder grabs her by the hair and yanks her back. The scream that comes out of her throat is high and cracked. I cover my mouth to stop myself from crying out.

Dad is shouting now. I can't hear the words. His face is bloodied. They drag him toward the door.

Mom kicks at them. She scratches Calder's face. He hits her. Hard. She goes down. The sound of her body hitting the floor is louder than the wind. My chest aches. My throat burns.

"Bring the woman," Calder says from the doorway. "The traitor's dead."

Two more men come in. They grab my mom under the arms. Her head lolls to the side, hair covering her face.

She isn't moving.

They carry her out like she weighs nothing.

I can't move. I can't breathe.

The door slams shut.

The fire crackles again like it never stopped.

And then everything goes still.

I don't come out for hours. Not until it's light. The snow outside glows through the cracks in the wood walls. I push the pantry door open slowly, like something might still be waiting for me.

The house is empty.

There's blood on the floor.

My dad's axe is gone.

Mom's necklace is lying in the fireplace ash.

I pick it up and close my fingers around it. I sit on the rug where my blanket still lies, and I don't cry.

I don't make a sound.

When someone finally comes, they don't knock. They don't ask if I'm alright. They don't even look at me.

They just grab my arm and drag me out the door.

That's the day my name stopped mattering.

That's the day I stopped being someone's daughter... and started being something else entirely.