Chapter 3: Wake-up call

Wake-Up Call

[Boom!]

The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls, the sound ricocheting through my skull like an explosion. My body flinched at the impact, and a knot twisted tightly in my stomach. Azariel had stormed out—again, without a word, without explanation. The air hung heavy with the tension he left behind, thick and suffocating, like the oppressive calm after a storm.

I could still feel the bite of his anger clinging to me. My chest tightened as I stood there, paralyzed, unsure how to face my aunt. Whatever Azariel had told her, I knew this wouldn't end well for me.

My hands shook as I nervously stepped into the dim living room, my mind racing for words I couldn't seem to find. I had to explain. I had to make her understand.

"Auntie, I—"

[Slap!]

The sound of her hand connecting with my cheek was a deafening crack, sharper than anything I had ever felt. My head snapped to the side, and the sting blossomed across my skin, burning as if I had been branded. My hand flew to my face, but the pain was still there, raw and unrelenting.

"How dare you, Seraphina?" Her voice was a whip, every syllable laced with venom. "How dare you humiliate me like this? I told you to stay away from men. To keep your head down, avoid drawing attention to yourself. But no! You couldn't listen, could you? You had to act like the little slut you are."

The slap was nothing compared to her words. Each one dug deeper than any physical blow. They sliced through me, leaving raw, jagged wounds where my pride had once been. I opened my mouth to protest, to explain, but no sound came. My throat tightened, suffocating me.

"I didn't—"

[Slap!]

"Shut up!" she hissed, her hand trembling, poised for another strike. "Don't you dare speak while I'm talking!"

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring her furious expression. I fought to keep them back, my body trembling, my chest tight with the effort of holding them in. The pain in my cheek was nothing compared to the ache in my heart, the suffocating weight of her words. The sharpness of her disgust—her disdain—it pierced through me like a dagger.

"You're pathetic," she spat, the words dripping with contempt. "Do you even understand how lucky you are? I could have sold you to some old widower, someone who would have treated you like a tool, a possession. But instead, I gave you a chance. A chance to be with the Alpha. To prove that you're worth something. And this is how you repay me?"

I wanted to shout, to scream that I never asked for this, that I never wanted any of it. But her voice was a constant, harsh barrage, drowning out my thoughts.

Tears finally fell—silent, hot streaks down my face. I wiped them away quickly, but they kept coming, relentless, betraying me as they dripped onto my trembling hands. The weight of her words, her hatred, crushed me. I felt small. Worthless.

"You're just like your mother," she sneered. "A reckless, selfish little slut. Like mother, like daughter."

That was the breaking point.

A heat, raw and wild, bloomed in my chest, a fury I hadn't known I was capable of. I felt my hands tingle with power, my magic swirling inside me like a storm waiting to break free.

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat, a force of pure, unbridled anger. My hands crackled with energy, and the room seemed to tremble in response, the air thickening with the weight of my magic.

My aunt's eyes widened in shock as she stumbled backward, crashing into the wall with a violent force. She gasped, her breath quick and sharp, as her chest rose and fell in frantic pants. The fear in her eyes mirrored the anger in mine.

Her expression hardened, but the faint trace of fear was unmistakable. "You think that makes you strong?" she spat, her voice cold and laced with disgust. "You're nothing but a cursed mistake. A liability. Just like your parents."

The words were venom, and they sank into my soul, twisting and gnawing at me. But I couldn't—wouldn't—let her go on.

Without another word, she turned, her movements stiff, deliberate, as she walked away. "You're pathetic," she muttered over her shoulder, before slamming the door behind her with such force that the walls trembled.

I stood frozen for a moment, the heavy silence suffocating me. Her words reverberated in my mind, twisting with my own thoughts, gnawing at my very core.

I stumbled to my room, my legs shaking beneath me, and once the door clicked shut behind me, I collapsed onto the floor. My body trembled as the sobs finally broke free—raw, guttural cries that racked my frame.

Tears fell in torrents, fast and unrelenting, soaking my hands as I buried my face in them. My chest heaved with every sob, each breath painful and shaky.

Like mother, like daughter.

Was it true? Was I really no better than them? My parents had abandoned the pack—left us vulnerable, led the rogues straight to our door. They had been the ones to tear everything apart. They had caused the attack that almost wiped out our pack, leaving me as the last of my kind.

If I hadn't existed… If I had never been born, none of this would have happened.

I crawled into bed, curling into a ball as the sobs continued, shaking my entire body. My pillow grew damp beneath my face, and my throat burned from crying.

I wished—I desperately wished—that I could stop feeling. That I could stop being.

My parents were gone. My kind was gone. And I was left, alone, a cursed reminder of their failures.

The tears slowed eventually, the weight of exhaustion pulling me into an uneasy sleep. My body ached, my chest hollowed with grief, but my mind was too numb to feel.

It's not my fault, I told myself, but the words felt hollow. It's not my fault.

Sleep took me, the weight of my tears still clinging to me like a second skin.

And then, in the midst of my dreams, a voice cut through the haze, soft and mocking.

"Morning, princess."

My eyes snapped open, my heart pounding, my skin suddenly cold with dread. The voice—it was familiar. Too familiar.

Slowly, I turned my head, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. My breath caught in my throat, my mind screaming, No, not him, not now.

There, standing at the foot of my bed, was Adam

His eyes gleamed with something dangerous—something cruel—and the smirk that tugged at his lips made my blood run cold.

I tried to speak, but the words died in my throat, my mouth dry. Why is he here? I wanted to scream, to push him away, but I couldn't move.

His eyes met mine, and his voice lowered, dripping with a dark amusement.

"You didn't think I was going to let you off that easily, did you, princess?"

A wave of horror crashed over me as the reality of the situation sank in.

I was trapped.