Chapter 6

The pack house was louder in the evening. Most ranked wolves had finished their training or patrols by then, and the place became a hive of activity—dinner being prepared, meetings held, gossip whispered in corners. Omegas moved like background noise, blending into the architecture, never seen, never thanked.

I reported to the head omega, got assigned to the dining hall clean-up. Scrubbing tables, collecting dishes, wiping down chairs—glamorous, I know.

I moved mechanically, my body on autopilot, my mind drifting as I watched the high-rank wolves laugh over roasted meat and fine wine.

Leon wasn't there.

Neither was Ava.

Probably eating in the private hall.

Didn't matter. I avoided eye contact, kept my head down, and worked in silence.

I was invisible again.

And somehow, that felt safer than being seen.

By the time I finished my shift at the pack house, the sky was already soaked in darkness. The moon hung low and full, casting a soft silver glow across the trees as I walked down the gravel road toward the outer gates. Most of the wolves in the pack house were either finishing their dinner or heading off to patrols. Me? I just wanted to get home.

I spotted my father near the east guard station. He'd just finished his own work shift and was checking in with the Alpha's inner circle, reporting on the day's patrols with the other senior warriors. I didn't interrupt—he wouldn't want me to. But when he finally spotted me waiting by the edge of the trail, he gave me that small, tired smile of his.

The one that never quite reached his eyes anymore.

He didn't ask how my day went. He didn't need to. He already knew. They all did. School was always the same. The Alpha's house was always the same. The sneers. The whispers. The bruises that weren't always physical.

He knew how it wore me down.

But he also knew he couldn't fix it.

Not anymore.

When I was younger, he tried. Gods, he tried. Every time someone shoved me, insulted me, spat on me, he'd show up—quiet but furious—and step between me and the world. And for a while, it worked. They left me alone. Until they didn't.

Until the names got worse.

"Daddy's little pet."

"Useless omega hiding behind her warrior daddy."

"Can't fight her own battles—needs a babysitter."

And yeah, maybe he could've kept shielding me longer. Maybe he wanted to. But eventually he realized something: if I never learned to hold my own ground, I'd get eaten alive the second he wasn't there.

And I'd be alone a lot more often than not.

So instead of protecting me, he started training me.

Quiet sessions in the woods behind our house. Sparring with dull blades and worn gloves. Long hours of drills until my arms ached and my legs buckled. I was barely thirteen when we started, and I'd hated every second of it at first.

Now? It was the only time I ever felt like I had a chance.

That was our plan for tonight too. He wasn't on patrol, which meant we'd get in another round before bed.

We didn't say much on the walk home. We didn't need to. The silence between us had long since become comfortable. Communicative, even. A language of its own.

When we reached the front steps of the house, the porch light flicked on. The door swung open before we even got the chance to knock, and then—

"Daddy! Sely!"

Rhea.

Barefoot and wrapped in one of her cartoon-print blankets, she came flying out the door like a rocket, practically tackling me with a hug and then rushing to dad before I could even recover. She did this every night, like clockwork. Her joy never changed. Never dulled. No matter how rough the day had been, she greeted us like we were the best part of her world.

Honestly? We probably were.

Lilian followed behind her with a towel over her shoulder and a wooden spoon in her hand, a smile on her face despite the flour dust on her shirt and the faint look of fatigue around her eyes.

"There you two are," she said. "You're later than usual."

"Last-minute report," Dad muttered, patting Rhea on the head as she chattered about how she'd made a paper wolf mask today and wanted to wear it tomorrow even if the teacher said no. "Alpha requested all patrol leaders stay behind."

I didn't say anything. Just stepped into the house and let the warmth wrap around me.

Our home was small. The furniture didn't match. The couch had a tear in the cushion. One of the kitchen cabinet doors hung slightly crooked. But it was ours. Every scratch, every creak in the floorboards, every scuff on the walls—we knew them all.

And somehow, they comforted me.

It wasn't fancy. But it was safe. And that was more than most omegas could say.

As we stepped inside, Lilian ushered us toward the living room, telling Dad that dinner would be ready in half an hour. He nodded and went to his room to change into training gear.

I lingered for a moment, watching as Lilian helped Rhea pick up a trail of toys she'd left scattered across the floor.

We didn't have much. No luxuries. No fine clothes. No money for extras. But we had this.

Us.

A mother who loved fiercely, even if she wasn't my blood.

A father who taught me to fight, even if the world thought he shouldn't.

And a sister who ran to hug me every day like I mattered more than the moon.

No rank could replace that.

No wolf could give me what they gave me.

So yeah... it wasn't perfect.

But it was mine.

And I loved it.

A few minutes later, I changed into my training clothes—black leggings and a tight-fitted shirt, my hair tied back in a braid—and met Dad out back. The night air had chilled. The stars were clear. The moon, bright and full, hung low in the sky, watching us like a silent witness.