Orphan Luna

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming

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Helen's POV

As Marcus moved closer to Scott, I stood motionless, my heart racing. Scott was still hurt and struggling for air on the ground. Marcus's eyes were crazy, and his claws were poised to deliver the last blow.

"Scott!" I yelled, but my voice could hardly be heard over the noise of the surrounding battle.

I could sense deep inside me the strength I'd been scared to use, the power I'd always tried to ignore. But now that Scott's life was in jeopardy, there was nothing else to do. I would lose him forever if I didn't act.

I closed my eyes without thinking and allowed my inner energy to rise. It was strong and wild, and it swept through me like a hurricane. Every part of me buzzed with strength I never knew I had, and I gasped as the force surged into my veins.

My surroundings were brighter and sharper when I opened my eyes once more. The power was surging within me, waiting to be let go.

Marcus froze in place, his eyes narrowing when he saw how I had changed. Confused, he hissed, "What is this?" "What are you?"

I didn't respond. I didn't have to. With each passing second, I sensed the strength within me increasing. It no longer frightened me. I could use it to defend the people I cared about because it was a part of who I was.

I lifted my hand in a single motion, and a surge of energy erupted from me and struck Marcus. The intensity of the strike stunned him, and he stumbled back.

"Leave him alone!" With a voice full of authority I didn't realize I had, I yelled.

Everyone turned to stare at me, and the whole battlefield seemed to pause. Everyone was in awe of what they were witnessing, including the rogues and pack members.

I sensed the change beginning. I moved more quickly and had keener senses. I wasn't the helpless misfit they all believed me to be. More than that, I was something strong.

Marcus growled as he regained his strength. He snarled as he charged at me, his claws outstretched, "You think you can stop me?"

However, I was prepared this time. I easily deflected his blows, meeting his onslaught head-on. Every time he swung, I was stronger and faster. I felt invincible because of the force within me.

As I sidestepped another of his blows, I murmured, "You're not going to win, Marcus," in a firm voice. "This ends now."

I pushed him back with one more surge of energy, and he fell to the ground. His face contorted with anger and incredulity, he fought to stand up.

He spat, "You!" but I gave him a final blast of power before he could continue, rendering him comatose.

Marcus lay motionless, vanquished, and the battlefield grew quiet. My pulse was pounding from the ferocity of the battle as I stood over him, panting.

Scott was still on the ground, staring at me with wide eyes when I turned around. He was hurt, with blood on his side and his shirt ripped, but he was still alive. I felt a wave of relief.

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