Chapter 3

Survival isn't about dignity. It's about how low you are willing to bend, how much of your soul you are prepared to sell just to keep breathing. Lydia watched her mom crumble. Not metaphorically. Actually crumble. On the cold, dirty floor, hands clasped together, begging Mr. Miller like he was some kind of god. "Please," she whispered to Mr. Miller, her voice a ragged thread of broken hope. "Please. We'll do anything." Anything. The word was out now, impossible to take back, waiting to strangle whatever remained of their pride. Mr. Miller stood there, impeccable in his tailored suit, looking down at her mother like she was some curious insect. Amber stood beside him, her eyes cold. This wasn't just about punishment. This was about power. About showing exactly how little people like them mattered. "What do you want?" Mr. Miller asked Amber. Amber's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Her scholarship. I want it gone. She shouldn’t be in this school anymore. And I want this incident on her record. People like her don’t deserve to be around anyone. Her mother didn't hesitate. Not even a moment of resistance. "Done," she said, her cheek pressed against the floor. "You won't see her again." Just like that. Their entire future. Erased. When the Millers finally agreed to have mercy and left, the silence was suffocating. Her mom picked herself up slowly, each movement looking like it hurt. Every inch of her body seemed crushed, defeated. By the time they got home, she was moving like a ghost—shoulders hunched, head down, looking like someone had stolen everything from her. She was heading towards her room, dragging her feet, when Lydia spoke. "Mom," she called out, her voice soft and vulnerable. "Who am I?" Her mother turned just enough and Lydia could see the absolute pain etched across her face. But she didn't say a word. She just gave this tiny, heartbreaking head shake like whatever was going on was too painful to even speak about. Then she just... walked away. Lydia sank to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest as tears ran down her face. … Ethan stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. Tonight wasn't just another night—it was the Moon Challenge, and looking the part was half the battle. Riley leaned against his doorframe, a smirk playing on her lips. "Nervous?" He rolled his eyes. "Please. I've been through this before." "Yeah, but this time you're overseeing the initiates," she said, her tone turning serious. "Dad's watching. One wrong move—" "I know, I know," Ethan cut her off. "One wrong move and I'm basically dead to the pack." The Laurent family mansion was silent. Their parents were already at the venue for the ritual that would determine the pack's newest members. Riley tossed him a black leather jacket. "Here. You'll want something that can handle a little... transformation." Ethan caught it, raising an eyebrow. "Advice from the sister who nearly got us both killed last month?" "Hey," she held up her hands, "I'm just trying to help." The drive to the pack's sacred ground was quiet. Pine trees lined the road, so tall they blocked out most of the light. It was almost pitch black and the SUV headlights didn’t do much. The full moon was big and bright, but for some reason everything looked off, like it wasn’t real. “Ethan,” Riley said softly as they neared the clearing, “Don’t beat yourself up. Whatever happens, it’s not something you could have stopped.” For a moment, Ethan felt something crack inside his usual tough exterior. He smiled—a genuine smile that rarely made an appearance, especially with everything about to unfold. "Yeah," he nodded, trying to sound more confident than he felt. They squeezed each other's hands. A moment of solidarity in a world that demanded ruthlessness. Just as Ethan was about to step away and head down to the clearing, Riley suddenly pulled him into a hug. It caught him completely off guard. Ethan froze for a second. Riley never did this. Not in front of anyone. Not where someone might see a moment of genuine emotion. Their parents had trained them too well to show weakness. But right now, in this moment, he felt different. He hugged her back. No words needed. The clearing was already filled with pack members— older wolves who had seen countless ritual, younger wolves eager for their first taste of tradition. All watching. Waiting. As soon as the moon reached its peak, the clearing transformed. Ethan felt it first. A tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine and spread through every nerve. Transformation wasn't a choice. It was a demand. His bones began to shift. First, a crack. Then another. His skin rippled, muscles expanding, bones lengthening. It wasn't smooth. It was violent. Painful. A scream caught in his throat—part human, part animal—as fur burst through his skin. Riley was already transformed beside him, her wolf form sleek and powerful. Her eyes—amber and razor-sharp watched the initiates. And so was every other person expect the initiates. Alpha Alexander stood at the center, his presence more intimidating than any physical threat. He didn't need to move to command respect—he simply existed. "Ethan," his father's voice cut through the murmur of the pack. "It's time!” The three young wolves stood chained near a cluster of massive rocks. They weren't just scared—they were terrified. One looked like he might throw up. Another was shaking so hard Ethan could see it from across the clearing. "The first test is simple," Alpha Alexander announced, his voice carrying over the gathering. "Survive the transformation. Control your first shift. Show your worth to the pack." The rules were simple and brutal. Only one would survive. The others? Eliminated. Not killed but broken. Stripped of pack status. Worse than death in their world. The first initiate, a wiry girl named Harper, began her transformation. Her bones cracked audibly, her screams piercing the night as her body shifted. Fur sprouted along her arms, and her hands morphed into claws. But as the transformation progressed, something went wrong. Her wolf form wasn’t normal—it was larger, more monstrous. Her fur was pitch black, and her eyes glowed a sickly green. Gasps rippled through the crowd. “What is that?” someone whispered. “Stop her!” another voice hissed. Harper let out a guttural snarl, her movements jerky and unnatural. She lunged at the second initiate, a boy named Connor, who barely dodged in time. The pack erupted into chaos as Harper’s mutated form tore through the circle, attacking anything in her path. Alpha Alexander’s voice cut through the panic. “Why is she still breathing, Ethan?” No, no. There must be a way out. He can make her control it. Killing her wasn’t an option. This wasn’t a normal shift gone wrong—this was something else entirely. Something darker. He could feel the power radiating from Harper, wild and unrestrained. “Harper!” he called out. “You have to stop! Fight it!” She turned toward him, her glowing eyes locking onto him. For a second, just a second, he thought maybe she might actually listen. But then she roared, charging at him with terrifying speed. Ethan didn’t wait. He moved like lightning, ducking under her swipe and slamming his shoulder into her side, sending her staggering back. He wasn’t just strong—he was precise, calculated. Every move was designed to subdue, not harm. “Ethan, don’t let her get the upper hand!” Riley called, but she didn’t step in. She knew better. This was his fight, his responsibility. Harper lunged again, faster this time, her claws aimed at his throat. Ethan twisted, catching her wrist mid-swing and spinning her around. He pinned her arms behind her back, his grip like iron. “Harper,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “You’re not this. You’re not a monster. Fight it!” She just... stopped. She froze completely. Her breathing got super quiet, and her head dropped. You could tell his words hit her hard. Those green eyes of hers? They went soft. Normal. "I... I can't," she said, and her voice was shaking. You could hear how scared she was. "Yes, you can," Ethan shot back. His hold on her loosened just a bit. “I know you can.” Then everything went to hell. Alpha Alexander appeared like a nightmare—massive, terrifying, cold as winter. One look and Ethan knew what was coming. “Step aside, Ethan,” Alpha Alexander commanded. Ethan didn’t move. “She’s fighting it, Father. I can save her.” “There’s no saving what’s already lost,” Alpha Alexander said, his tone like ice. “This… corruption will spread if we let it. There’s no place for evil in this pack.” Ethan’s chest tightened. “She’s not evil. She’s scared. She just needs more time—” “I said step aside.” The command was absolute. Ethan’s grip faltered, and Harper twisted free, stumbling backward. But before she could regain her footing, Alexander struck. His claws ripped right through her chest in one brutal strike. Harper gasped, her body jerking before she collapsed. “No!” Ethan shouted, catching her before she hit the ground. He knelt, his hands shaking as he held her close. “Harper…” Her glowing eyes met his, the green fading to brown. Tears streaked her face as she whispered, “I… tried…” And then she was gone. The clearing was silent. The pack stared, their expressions a mixture of shock and grim acceptance. Alpha Alexander stood tall, his face unreadable. “There is no place for weakness here,” he said. “This is the cost of failure.” Ethan was totally losing it inside. His jaw was so tight it could snap. He wanted to just... explode. Scream at his father, ask him what the hell was going on. But he couldn’t. Riley approached cautiously, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Ethan…” He shook her off, standing slowly. His face showed anger and grief, but when he actually spoke, his voice was completely calm like he wasn't dying on the inside. “She wasn’t weak. She was one of us.” Alpha Alexander’s gaze hardened. “She was a threat. And threats to the pack are dealt with swiftly. You’d do well to remember that.” Ethan didn’t respond. He simply turned and walked away from the circle, his heart breaking. He thought he could save her. He thought he could make a difference. But tonight, he'd learned a harsh truth: in the Laurent pack, mercy was a luxury no one could afford. “Ethan…” Riley tried again. He didn't stop. Didn't even turn around. He just muttered, barely loud enough for her supernatural hearing to catch, "I need to be alone."