On the night of his birthday, Jude Mitchell, the Lycan Prince, had too much to drink and mistook me for my cousin, Summer. Things got out of hand in the living room. The next morning, he asked me how much money I wanted.

I wiped my sweaty palms and pretended nothing happened, using sign language to communicate. "It was all a misunderstanding, nothing to worry about." As I left, his friend, a Delta from his pack, asked, "Your Highness, you’re just going to let her walk away like that? Aren’t you worried she’ll go to the Alpha?"

Jude lazily blew out a puff of smoke, his Alpha aura faintly pulsing, though I could feel its weight even as an Omega. "She’s just a mute Omega. What can she do?"

As he wished, I took the money and moved out that very night.

His words cut into me like knives, tearing me apart inside. My wolf whimpered softly in the back of my mind, a faint presence I rarely acknowledged. I should have stormed in there and slapped him across the face. But in reality, I was frozen, unable to move, just listening to his friend’s laughter echoing through the room.

"But you didn’t exactly lose out. Sure, Sofia isn’t as stunning as her sister, the Gamma, but she’s sweet. Don’t you think you should take some responsibility?"

Jude’s voice came through, cold and detached, his Alpha tone making my knees weak. "Forget it; I’m not into chasing after someone. Don’t let Summer know about this; I don’t want her to get upset."

"Alright, alright, Your Highness, I promise to keep it quiet."

"As for Sofia, I hope she takes the money. But if she tries to use this to mess things up between Summer and me, she won’t get away with it."

I don’t remember how I left, only that the wind was biting cold. I was wearing just a light jacket, feeling like I’d been hit by a freight train, with every part of me aching.

By the time I got to Uncle Thomas’s house, the Beta of the Silver Fang Pack, the bedroom door was already locked. I weakly knocked on the door. Summer, the Gamma, always locked her room when gaming and wore noise-canceling headphones to avoid interruptions. The door stayed closed. It was her room; I might have had a bed on the top bunk, but I wasn’t entitled to a key.

I stood outside the door for what felt like forever. Then I turned around and headed up to the attic where all the clutter was stored, the faint scent of damp wood and dust filling my nostrils. My wolf’s presence retreated, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I drifted off amidst a jumble of newspapers and magazines, my body feeling heavy, as if the weight of the world—or perhaps the pack hierarchy—was pressing down on me. In my haze, I thought I saw Jude, the Lycan Prince, lowering his head, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he asked, “Because I like you. Don’t you like me?”

"Like" — such a rare word in my life. Ever since my parents died, I’d been taken in by Uncle Thomas, the Beta of the Silver Fang Pack. Summer, my cousin and the pack’s Gamma, had been childhood friends with Jude, their statuses aligning perfectly in the rigid structure of werewolf society.

Last night, at half past eleven, Summer had suddenly asked me to deliver a birthday gift to Jude for her. As an Omega, I didn’t question it. I planned to drop off the gift and leave immediately. But when I arrived at Jude’s apartment, the living room lights were dim, and the air carried the sharp scent of whiskey, mingling faintly with the floral notes of a Lycan’s natural aura.

When Jude pulled me onto the sofa, I was too stunned to resist. His presence was commanding, his Lycan heritage evident in the way he carried himself—tall, muscular, and radiating an alpha-like dominance even in his human form. He held me, asking if I liked him. The feelings I’d buried deep inside, the ones I’d never dared to voice, suddenly felt exposed. I panicked.

But Jude said he’d liked me for a long time too. In the dim light, his eyes were soft, almost tender, as if he were looking at something precious. For a moment, I was reminded of the way my mother used to look at me, back when I still had a voice. I couldn’t push him away. I thought Jude knew who I was.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when he rested his head on my shoulder, murmuring, “Summer,” that I realized the truth. Jude had mistaken me for her.

Summer and I are only a month apart, but I’m much smaller than she is, my frame more delicate, my presence quieter. Clothes she no longer wanted were often passed down to me by Aunt Melina, another Omega in the pack. Last night, I’d worn one of Summer’s old Victorian-style dresses—a relic of her wardrobe that somehow fit me perfectly.

This mistake was absurd, almost laughable in its irony. So when Jude anxiously lit a cigarette, his Lycan composure slipping as he asked how much money I wanted, I didn’t respond. Instead, I used sign language, my voice long since lost.

“It’s all a misunderstanding. It’s nothing.”

After all, ever since my parents died, I’d learned that someone like me—an Omega, mute, and unremarkable—didn’t hold much value in the pack. Not to the Lycan Prince, and certainly not to the world.