The silence in Aria's small room was a familiar comfort, a stark contrast to the hollow ache in her chest.
Today, she turned eighteen, a milestone that should have been celebrated, but in the Hale pack, it was just another day for the unwanted Omega.
Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight cutting through the grimy window, illuminating the stark emptiness of her space.
No fluffy comforter, no trinkets, no gifts. Just a thin mattress on the floor, a rickety dresser, and the escape bag tucked carefully under it.
Her escape bag. The one tangible thing that held her dreams of freedom.
She ran a hand over the worn canvas, a faint smile touching her lips.
Tonight, after the obligatory, tension-filled gathering, she would be gone.
Eighteen.
The age when she could finally walk away, shedding the skin of the neglected orphan, the un-wolfed girl.
The pack had long since given up on her. Most wolves awakened between fifteen and sixteen.
By seventeen, it was rare. Eighteen was unheard of, a mark of some profound deficiency.
They called her 'Aria, the Bare Human,' a cruel jab that echoed in her nightmares.
Her family, the esteemed Hale lineage, had made sure she felt every ounce of that shame.
Luna Mara, her mother, had perfected the art of looking through her as if she were made of glass, an inconvenient draft that rustled the curtains.
Alpha Julius, her father, offered only cold, assessing glances, a disappointment etched permanently onto his face.
And Selene… Selene, her older sister, the golden child, the future Luna, reveled in her perceived inadequacy.
Selene's room, a vibrant symphony of silk and polished wood, was directly across the hall. Aria could hear her now, a soft hum of contentment as she presumably prepared for the evening's *real* event: Rowan Blackthorn's visit, not her own forgotten birthday.
Aria checked the contents of her bag one last time.
A few changes of clothes, a small pouch of herbs for foraging, a worn map of the outer territories she'd painstakingly copied from the pack library before being restricted from it.
Most importantly, a single, smooth river stone, her only childhood possession, a reminder of a fleeting moment of peace by the creek.
It was all she had, and it was enough. It had to be.
She moved to the tiny cracked mirror, catching her reflection.
Wisps of dark hair framed a pale, heart-shaped face. Her eyes, usually a muted grey, held a spark of defiant hope today.
No wolf, no mate bond, no pack duties. Just freedom.
The thought was intoxicating, a forbidden melody humming under her skin. She had spent eighteen years in a gilded cage, watching Selene blossom under the pack's adoring gaze, while she withered in the shadows.
But no more. Tonight, the cage door would open.
A harsh knock startled her, and the door creaked open before she could answer.
Selene stood there, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shining, eyes the exact shade of their mother's – cold, calculating green.
A delicate silk dress, the color of twilight, clung to her slender frame. She looked like a goddess, every inch the Luna-to-be.
"Still here, Aria?" Selene's voice was a silken whip, each word a subtle cut.
"Mother sent me to remind you about dinner. Try not to make a spectacle of yourself, as usual. Rowan will be here."
Rowan. The name tightened Aria's chest, a familiar knot of dread and something akin to a phantom ache.
Rowan Blackthorn, the future Alpha of the neighboring Blackthorn Pack, her sister's fiancé, and her childhood tormentor.
He was the reason she perfected the art of invisibility, the one who had honed her resilience with his cruel words and chilling indifference.
The thought of him witnessing her quiet, un-wolfed misery tonight made her stomach clench.
"I'll be down," Aria said, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.
She had learned long ago that showing any reaction only fueled Selene's amusement.
Selene merely smirked, her gaze sweeping over Aria's plain tunic and worn trousers, a silent judgment more potent than any shouted insult.
"Don't bother to dress up. It wouldn't help.
You truly are a lost cause, aren't you? Almost nineteen, and still no wolf.
What a disgrace to our family name. Rowan will laugh if he even notices you." She paused, a glint of malice in her eyes.
"But then, why would he? He's only ever had eyes for me." With a final, triumphant smile, Selene turned and swept out, leaving a faint scent of expensive jasmine in her wake.
Aria watched the empty doorway, her jaw tight.
*He's only ever had eyes for me.* The words twisted something inside her. Selene was right, of course.
Rowan Blackthorn was everything the pack adored – powerful, handsome, and utterly ruthless. He had never spared Aria anything but disdain.
Their arranged engagement was a political coup, uniting two powerful packs. Aria was just the inconvenient, forgotten sister, a smudge on the polished Hale reputation.
She let out a slow breath, forcing her shoulders to relax.
It didn't matter.
None of it mattered anymore. Soon, she would be free.
No more mocking whispers, no more cold shoulders, no more Rowan's piercing, condemning gaze. Just open sky and the quiet embrace of the wilderness.
She changed into the least faded dress she owned, a simple dark grey that would allow her to blend into the shadows of the dining hall.
As she descended the grand staircase, the usual din of the Hale manor reached her ears – the clinking of silverware, the low rumble of male voices, the high-pitched laughter of the younger she-wolves.
Tonight, it sounded like a funeral dirge.
The dining hall was already bustling. Alpha Julius sat at the head of the long, ornate table, his expression stern.
Luna Mara was beside him, radiating an icy elegance. Selene was seated to Rowan's right, her hand resting delicately on his arm, a picture of domestic bliss.
Rowan, tall and broad-shouldered, exuded an aura of controlled power. His dark eyes, like chips of obsidian, swept over the room, pausing briefly on Aria as she entered, then dismissed her, flicking back to Selene with an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw.
Her presence was barely a ripple in the fabric of their perfect evening.
Aria slipped into her usual seat at the far end of the table, near the kitchen entrance, a place where she could easily be forgotten.
Her family didn't even glance her way. The other omegas and lower-ranking pack members at her end of the table offered pitying, almost contemptuous looks.
*Still un-wolfed at eighteen.* The silent judgment hung heavy in the air, a suffocating shroud.
She kept her eyes on her plate, pushing around the elaborate meal she wouldn't taste.
Each clink of a fork, each burst of laughter from the 'main' table, was a reminder of her isolation.
Tonight, they were celebrating Selene, celebrating Rowan's visit, celebrating everything Aria wasn't.
But soon, she thought – a defiant flicker igniting in her chest – they would realize she was gone. And for the first time in her life, their reaction wouldn't matter.
As Alpha Julius began a booming toast, praising the alliance between their packs and the virtues of his eldest daughter, Aria felt a peculiar tremor deep within her, a strange, unfamiliar thrumming in her veins.
It wasn't fear, nor hunger.
It was something primal, ancient, like a coiled spring suddenly twitching to life. A cold dread seeped into her, chilling her to the bone.
No. Not now.
Not tonight. Not after all these years of waiting.
She couldn't be wrong. She had to leave.
Just as Alpha Julius raised his glass higher, proclaiming, "To Selene, our future Luna, and to Alpha Rowan, who will lead us into a new era of strength and prosperity!" Aria felt a sudden, searing pain erupt behind her eyes.
A low growl, thick and resonant, ripped through the silent room, echoing off the stone walls.
It wasn't hers, yet it resonated deep within her bones.
Every head snapped towards her, eyes wide with shock and fear, none more so than Rowan Blackthorn's, whose obsidian gaze was now locked onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.
And then, her world exploded in a blinding flash of white-hot agony.