Skylar's POV

I remember the first time I truly felt the weight of being different. I was about fourteen, maybe fifteen, when it hit me that I wasn't just the "lost pup" whispered about in passing I was the pack's disappointment, the one who didn't belong. Around me, the others shifted effortlessly, their bodies changing with the moon's pull, becoming fierce and wild like they were born for it. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not ever, it seemed.

It was like watching a private world unfold in front of me, a world I was locked out of. The other kids, the ones I'd grown up with transformed into powerful wolves under the moonlight, their bodies strong, their instincts sharp. They were everything I wasn't.

School turned into a battlefield. The same kids who once laughed and joked with me grew cold, their smiles replaced with sneers. "Freak," they'd whisper as I passed. "Useless." Sometimes, I heard those words loud and clear, their venom sinking deep into my bones. But no one dared say it to my face, as I was the Alpha's last born. The only ones who dared were successors to other packs Alphas.

I tried to ignore it, to bury the shame, but the pack's rules were clear: strength ruled everything. And I had none.

One night, after a pack meeting, I found myself cornered in the dimly lit hallway by Elena, my older sister. Her eyes were cold, her voice dripping with venom. "You're embarrassing us," she spat, stepping closer. "You're weak, Skylar. You make Mom and Dad look bad."

I wanted to fight back, to yell at her that I was trying, that I was more than this failure she painted me to be. But exhaustion weighed me down, and I swallowed the words, my throat tight. Instead, I said nothing, pretending the sting didn't reach my heart.

At school, the bullying only got worse. One afternoon, as I walked past the cafeteria, a group of kids from the Crescent pack blocked my path. Among them was Liam Brooke the golden boy everyone adored, son of the Crescent alpha, and, at the time, not yet my boyfriend.

"Hey, Skylar," Liam called out, flashing that effortless smile that could charm anyone. But today, there was something darker in his eyes a flicker of mockery I couldn't miss. "Still can't shift, huh?"

The words landed harder than any punch. I looked down, biting my lip to stop the sting from showing.

Suddenly, Mila appeared by my side, her voice steady and fierce. "Leave her alone, Liam."

He turned to her with that same sharp smile, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Later, as we walked home from school, I tried to keep the memory of Mila's words close. She was the only person who stood up for me when no one else would. "Thanks for stepping in," I murmured.

Mila shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "You know I got you."

It may sound complicated but I finally fell in love with Liam and we started dating. Yurp! We did.

Dating Liam was complicated. On the surface, he was everything I wanted: charming, confident, and from a powerful family. But behind closed doors, things were different. I often felt like a project, like he was trying to shape me into the perfect girlfriend the perfect future mate to unite our packs.

One evening, after a tense family dinner, my father pulled me aside. His voice was calm but held steel beneath the surface. "Skylar, you need to understand your role. Liam isn't just your boyfriend; he's the alliance our pack needs."

I forced a nod, but my heart ached. "I know, Father."

He gave me a long look, almost pitying. "You'll see. This is for the good of all of us."

Later, I found myself in my room, wrestling with the weight of his words. Was I just a piece on some chessboard? A pawn in a game I didn't want to play?

Things came to a head one night when Liam and I argued over a minor pack event. The small disagreement quickly spiraled out of control.

"You don't trust me," he accused, his voice low and harsh as we stood in the dim light of my bedroom.

I shook my head. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

His eyes darkened, cold and unyielding. "You'll come around. You have to."

"I don't want to," I whispered, my voice trembling. "This isn't love. It's a cage."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek, but the touch felt like a chain rather than a comfort. "You're mine, Skylar. Whether you like it or not."

I pulled away, tears stinging my eyes. "I'm not yours."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

In that moment, I realized love wasn't supposed to feel like a trap. It wasn't supposed to hurt this much.

The world of packs was a brutal, unforgiving place full of sharp edges and darker shadows than I ever imagined. Every move I made felt like walking on thin ice, each step laced with hidden dangers and invisible traps. Power wasn't just something you earned; it was demanded, stolen, fought for in whispers and blood. And me? I was just a girl caught in the middle of a game I didn't understand, struggling to find footing in a world where loyalty was bought, and betrayal was around every corner.

But the deeper I dug, the more I realized something terrifying: the secrets I carried, the power I never knew I had, made me a target.

Skylar's POV.

"What the hell." I screamed. Sometimes, the memories hit me when I least expect them. Like a punch to the chest, reminding me of everything I tried so hard to forget. Liam. Him standing there, caught red-handed with that girl the way her smug smile didn't even falter when I appeared.

It was supposed to be a quiet night, just a small gathering at the Crescent pack's compound. I didn't want to go, but my parents insisted. They said it was important for pack unity, for my future. I barely knew anyone there except Liam, and even then, I wasn't sure if I really knew him at all.

That night, I wandered through the hallways, looking for him, wanting to find the boy I thought I loved. Instead, I found him pressed against some girl, her arms wrapped around him like she belonged there. And she did. They belonged together-at least, that's what the sight told me.

I froze, my heart pounding so loud I was sure they could hear it. Liam looked up, saw me, and instead of shame, there was amusement in his eyes.

"Oh, Skylar," he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Didn't expect to see you here."

I didn't say a word. I turned and left, feeling like I was made of glass shattering into a thousand pieces.

That moment wasn't the first time Liam's words cut deeper than any betrayal. He was good at making me feel small, less than, like I was never enough. Whenever I tried to stand up for myself, he'd remind me, subtly or not, how I paled in comparison to the girls he used to date or the ones he was still interested in.

"You should be grateful," he once said during an argument. "Not every girl gets a chance to be with someone like me."

His voice was cold, but what stung the most was how easy it was for him to dismiss my feelings, my worth.

I remember the nights I lay awake, replaying his words, wondering if I was really that useless.

But I wasn't just hurt by Liam. I was crushed by the fact that the people who were supposed to love me the ones who raised me expected me to swallow it all. To forget that I was being hurt, humiliated.

"Skylar," my mother said one evening, after I'd refused to eat dinner, "you need to focus on what's important. Liam is the future. Your role is to support him."

I looked up, eyes burning with unshed tears. "But he doesn't respect me."

She shook her head, voice sharp. "Respect isn't what holds packs together. Power is."

Power. That word echoed in my mind, a constant reminder that my feelings didn't matter.

Elena, as if sensing my weakness, didn't miss a chance to remind me I was failing. "Maybe if you were more like the others, Liam wouldn't look elsewhere," she sneered once, laughing when my face flushed.

I wanted to scream at her, to tell her she didn't understand how lonely I felt. But I just swallowed my anger and walked away.

Mila tried to be my anchor, but even her words sometimes felt hollow. "You deserve better, Sky," she said, hugging me after one particularly brutal fight with Liam.

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that love didn't have to hurt this much.

But the truth was, Liam controlled more than just my heart. He had my future wrapped around his finger, tied to alliances and politics I barely understood.

I was trapped.

And the night I caught him with that girl? It was the night I finally broke.

What pains me the most is the conversation I had with Liam that day.

Liam's footsteps pounded down the hall, fast and sure, closing the distance between us. His expression was a mix of frustration and something desperate, maybe even hurt? No, his pride was what was hurt for sure. "Skylar, wait. Just chill, okay? You're blowing this way out of proportion."

I crossed my arms, eyes narrowing. "Blowing it out of proportion? Liam, I saw you. I saw you with her."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, biting his lip. "You don't understand. I wasn't "

"Then what? Explain it." My voice cracked, raw with disbelief. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were having sex with some girl while you were supposed to be with me. And did you see her smirk?"

His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened. "Skylar, I've never been with anyone but you. Not like that. I never gave in."

I blinked, stunned. "You never gave in? You don't even know how it feels. I've never been with anyone ever. I was going to wait for you."

His eyes softened for a moment, like he wanted to reach out and hold me close. "I know. I want that too. But you have to trust me."

Trust. The word felt hollow coming from him. "How can I? When I see you with her? What am I supposed to believe?"

Liam shook his head, stepping closer. "It wasn't what you think. She was just... there. Nothing happened."

"Nothing?" I repeated, voice rising. "You don't just accidentally end up in bed with someone. Not with you. You think I'm dumb."

He reached for my hand, but I pulled away, the sting of betrayal burning fresh. "I was going to be yours. All of me. But you made it clear I wasn't enough."

His face fell. "That's not true, Skylar. I never stopped wanting you."

But the words felt empty, drowned beneath the ache in my chest. I wanted to believe him. God, how I wanted to. But right now, all I could feel was the cold crack of broken promises.

But I knew fully well deep down this was as much as I could take.

Skylar's POV

"Your application to the University has been finalized," my mother said, her tone as precise as the crease in her white blouse. "Political Sciences, International Relations. It's the perfect foundation for..."

"For the life you want me to have," I cut in, stabbing my fork into a piece of asparagus.

My father didn't look up from his plate. "For the life you were born to have, Skylar. You're not just our daughter-you're a Reed. That comes with responsibility."

I leaned back in my chair. "Right. Responsibility. You mean power lunches, photo ops, and shaking hands with men who care more about land ownership than clean drinking water."

My mother's lips thinned. "Don't be dramatic."

I laughed, sharp and humorless. "I'm not being dramatic, I'm being honest. I don't want to spend my life in some overpriced suit, smiling for cameras while pretending I care about politics. I want to be a doctor."

That got my father's attention. He set his fork down slowly, like the act required more control than he wanted to admit. "Medicine is not an appropriate career for someone in your position."

"In my position?" I repeated, the words bitter on my tongue. "What is that, exactly? Your pawn? The next trophy in the Reed dynasty?"

His eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone."

Mila's voice echoed in my head from earlier that afternoon: You're going to snap one day, Sky, and when you do, make sure they hear it in every room of this house.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I've watched my tone for twenty years. All it's gotten me is a life planned down to the brand of pen I'm supposed to use in my first council meeting."

My mother's expression was as unreadable as ever, but her fingers tightened around her wine glass. "Your future isn't something you can improvise. Politics is in your blood. You'll have resources, influence things most people could never dream of."

"I don't care about influence," I shot back. "I care about doing something that matters. And for me, that's medicine. Helping people when they're at their worst, not just... pushing policies from a marble office while the real work happens somewhere else."

Silence hung over the table like smoke.

Finally, my father spoke. "You think medicine is noble, but you haven't seen the reality. Years of study, exhausting hours, little thanks. You're too "

"Too what?" I challenged. "Too privileged to care? Too delicate to get my hands dirty? Or is it that being a doctor won't get my face on the front page next to yours?"

His jaw clenched. "Medicine will not happen. This family's name belongs in the political sphere. We've built our legacy there, and you will continue it."

I pushed my plate away, appetite gone. "Your legacy is not my life."

The words hit like a spark in dry grass.

My mother set down her glass, her voice deceptively calm. "You will attend Rothmore. You will study International Relations. You will be presented at the autumn gala as our successor. This is not negotiable."

Something in me cracked. "Do you even hear yourself? You're talking about me like I'm a campaign strategy, not your daughter. Every other person got to attend the university of their choice what's your problem with me."

"You're both," my father said simply. "Our bloodline and our investment. You have no idea how many people would kill for the position you were born into."

I stood so quickly my chair scraped against the polished floor. "Then give it to them. Let someone else be your perfect little heir, because I'm done pretending that's who I am."

My mother's voice turned sharp. "Sit down."

I didn't. "You've never asked what I wanted. Not once. You've just decided for me, every step of the way. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm applying to medical schools with or without your blessing."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "If you walk away from this family's path, you walk away from its protection. From everything we've given you."

The air felt colder somehow, like the walls themselves were siding with her. "Then I'll survive without it," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

My father leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was an unpredictable witness on the stand. "You think independence is romantic. It's not. It's brutal. And when you realize you've made a mistake, this door won't be as easy to open again."

"Good," I said. "Then I won't be tempted to come back."

For a moment, no one moved. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner was the only sound.

Then my mother spoke, each word clipped and deliberate. "You're young. You think you know yourself, but you don't. We will not support this... rebellion."

"I don't need your support," I said, though my chest ached with the weight of it. "I just need you to stop controlling me."

I turned to leave, my pulse pounding in my ears.

"Skylar," my father's voice was low, almost dangerous. "If you walk out now, understand that you're making a choice that will define you forever."

I looked over my shoulder. "Good. Maybe for once, it'll be a choice I made for myself."

And then I walked away past the oil portraits of ancestors who'd never known my name, past the hall that always smelled faintly of polish and dust, past the part of me that used to think maybe, someday, they'd see me for who I was.

But everything didn't move as smoothly as I thought.