The first slap came before she could answer.
Mira Thornveil didn't flinch. She had learned long ago not to. Her father, Alpha Horace Thornveil, stood over her, rage dripping from his every word as his hand lowered back to his side.
"You think you're special?" he growled, voice tight with disgust. "You're a curse, Mira. A plague. I should've left you to rot the day your mother died birthing you."
She stared at the floor, jaw clenched so hard her teeth hurt. Her skin stung, her cheek blazing red, but she didn't let him see the pain. She never did.
"Speak!" he roared, grabbing her by the collar of her tattered shirt. "Why were you talking to that Beta boy behind the academy?"
"I wasn't-" she began, but another strike silenced her.
"I told you to stay away from anyone with rank. You bring misfortune to everything you touch!"
At the doorway, Mira's stepsister, Liana, leaned against the frame with a smug smile. Her long blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight, and her manicured nails drummed softly against the wood.
"Daddy, don't waste your energy," Liana said sweetly. "She's just trying to seduce someone again. Maybe she thinks her mate will save her."
Horace barked a bitter laugh. "Mate? This one? No male would be fool enough."
Mira bit her tongue. Hard. Blood pooled at the corner of her lips, but it was better than screaming. Better than giving them the satisfaction.
Ever since her mother's death during childbirth, Mira had been branded cursed. No one spoke her name with affection. Her father had remarried weeks after her mother's funeral - to a powerful she-wolf from another pack. Liana was born two years later, and everything Mira never had was handed to her: love, praise, privilege.
Mira was left with scars and silence.
She was forbidden from training with the others. Forbidden from wearing clothes that weren't ragged. Forbidden from showing her wolf. She didn't even know what her wolf looked like. She had never shifted.
At eighteen, she was already an outcast, a ghost with breath.
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