Chapter 2: The Pack’s Punching Bag

The morning air was sharp, cutting through my threadbare clothes and sinking deep into my bruised skin. Each step across the damp grass sent a dull ache rippling through my ribs, a cruel reminder of yesterday’s torment.

I kept my head down, moving quickly across the training grounds, ignoring the lingering stares. The whispers. The amused glances from passing pack members who found entertainment in my suffering.

I had learned long ago—acknowledging them only made it worse.

But I wasn’t fast enough to avoid her.

"Move, rogue."

The voice slithered down my spine, icy and laced with venom.

Sabine.

The Beta’s daughter. The pack’s golden girl. The one who had everything—except, perhaps, the one thing she truly wanted.

Before I could react, pain exploded in my side. A sharp kick to my ribs sent me sprawling onto the frozen dirt, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. My scraped palms stung as I caught myself just before my face hit the ground.

Laughter rippled around us—not as loud as when the triplets toyed with me, but enough to make my stomach churn.

Sabine crouched beside me, her honey-blonde hair shining in the morning light, her hazel eyes gleaming with something more than cruelty.

Jealousy.

But I stayed silent.

That only seemed to anger her more. She clicked her tongue, fingers twisting into my hair, yanking my head back so I was forced to meet her gaze.

"What? No smart mouth today?" she taunted, her nails digging into my scalp. "No pathetic little attempts at defiance?"

I said nothing.

Her grip tightened, her lips curling into a sneer. "You think you're better than me, don't you? You think just because they look at you, it means something?"

The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable.

Something inside me settled with quiet understanding.

This wasn’t just about me. This was about them.

The triplets.

Even when they tormented me, even when they mocked me, they noticed me. Their attention—no matter how cruel—lingered.

And that infuriated Sabine.

Before I could react, she shoved me back down, dust kicking up in my face.

"Sabine… maybe you shouldn’t."

The voice was hesitant, uncertain.

Mira. A lower-ranked omega.

She wasn’t brave, but she wasn’t cruel either.

Sabine turned sharply, her glare cutting. "What?"

Mira shifted, glancing around uneasily. "The triplets… if they see you doing this—"

Sabine scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, please. They don’t care about this mutt."

But there was something in her voice. A flicker of doubt.

She turned back to me, eyes scanning my face, searching for… something. Some kind of confirmation that she was right. That I meant nothing.

I gave her nothing.

Her lips curled in disgust. "You’re so boring."

With a final glare, she turned and stalked off, her entourage trailing behind.

Mira lingered for a moment before kneeling beside me.

"You should rinse your hands," she murmured, her gaze flicking toward the cuts on my palms. "Before they get worse."

I stared at her, unmoving.

She shifted, embarrassed. "I just mean—" She sighed. "Never mind."

And then she was gone.

I sat there for a moment, waiting for the burning behind my eyes to fade.

Not here.

Not where they could see.

The dining hall was warm, thick with the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread. Warriors laughed over half-finished plates, omegas moved in seamless rhythm, but the heat of the fire did nothing to thaw the cold in my bones.

I worked quietly, clearing tables with steady hands, ignoring the dull ache in my ribs. Every movement sent pain flickering through my body, but I didn’t falter.

I never did.

And then—

A shift in the air.

A presence—threefold. Heavy. Inescapable.

I felt them before I saw them.

The triplets.

Their attention wrapped around me like an unseen leash, invisible but impossible to ignore. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin, not in fear—but in something far more dangerous.

A chair scraped against the wooden floor.

I didn’t need to look up to know Dorian had taken the seat closest to me.

"You’re limping," he noted casually. "Rough morning?"

His voice was light, amused—but his sharp gaze flicked over me, assessing.

"She always looks like that," Rowan mused, propping an elbow on the table, his expression lazy, but his eyes sharp. "A walking bruise."

Evander swirled a drink in his hand, watching me with vague interest. "You’d think she’d get tired of being everyone’s favorite punching bag." He took a slow sip before adding, "Maybe she likes it."

I stilled, my fingers gripping the damp cloth just a little tighter.

Dorian leaned in slightly, his voice smooth, coaxing. "Is that it, Calista? Do you like it?"

A slow heat crept up my neck, but I kept my head down, kept scrubbing the table.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Dorian tsked, tapping his fingers against the wood. "Still so stubborn."

Rowan sighed dramatically. "You really don’t make this easy on yourself, you know."

"She never does," Evander agreed, watching me with a lazy sort of amusement.

I turned to leave, but before I could take a step, fingers wrapped around my wrist.

Not tight. Just enough to still me.

A flicker of warmth spread through my skin before I jerked away, my pulse kicking up. "Don’t touch me."

Dorian smirked, but this time, it was softer. Almost thoughtful. "You always say that."

Rowan chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "And yet, here we are. Again."

Evander studied me, tilting his head slightly. "It’s cute that you still think you have a choice."

I sucked in a breath, my heart thudding against my ribs.

Dorian’s gaze flickered to my wrist, where my sleeve had ridden up slightly. His expression didn’t change, but something shifted—his amusement dimming for the briefest moment before he murmured,

"You should’ve told us."

I laughed, cold and hollow. "Told you?" I shook my head. "You act like you’re different. You torment me just like they do. You—"

I broke off, suddenly too aware of how close they were.

Too close to their heat.

Too close to the way they were looking at me.

Not cruel.

Not mocking.

Something else entirely.

Dorian exhaled, slow and deliberate. "Only we have the right to do this to you."

The words settled over me like a slow, curling fog.

Possessiveness.

My breath locked in my chest, my body reacting before my mind could. I stepped back—once, twice—my wolf pressing against my skin, restless.

I didn’t understand them.

I didn’t want to.

"Stay away from me," I forced out.

And then I turned and left, ignoring the way their stares burned into my back.

Ignoring the way my wolf didn’t protest.

Ignoring the way something had shifted—something dark. Something undeniable.

But most of all, I ignored the way I almost didn’t hate it.

Chapter 3: A Strange Change

I woke up the next morning feeling different.

Not better. Not healed.

Just... unsettled.

The triplets’ words from last night still clung to my skin like an unwanted touch, their voices curling around my thoughts, refusing to let go.

"Only we have the right to do this to you."

Dorian’s voice had been low, almost casual. But there had been nothing casual about the look in his eyes.

And worse, my wolf had reacted.

Why?

I shook the thought away as I slipped out of my tiny, forgotten room in the back of the pack house. The hallways were already buzzing with life, omegas rushing about, warriors preparing for training. I kept my head down as I made my way to the kitchen, focused on one thing—getting through the day unnoticed.

But the moment I stepped into the dining hall, I felt it.

Their eyes.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep moving, pretending I didn’t see the way Dorian, Evander, and Rowan were already sitting at the long wooden table, their gazes locked onto me the second I entered.

They were never here this early.

Ever.

I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to keep moving as I grabbed a basket of bread from the counter. I’d just serve breakfast like always, avoid eye contact, and—

A body stepped in front of me.

Evander.

I jolted back before I could stop myself, my hands tightening around the basket.

He tilted his head, watching me with those golden-brown eyes that always seemed to see too much. “Careful, little rogue. Jumping like that makes it look like you have something to hide.”

I stiffened. “I don’t.”

"Is that so?" His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but something sharp lurked beneath the surface.

I tried to sidestep him, but another body blocked my path.

Rowan.

I clenched my jaw. Of course.

His hazel eyes flickered with something I couldn’t name. He was usually the softest of the three, the one who laughed easily, who didn’t push quite as hard.

But today… he just stood there. Close. Watching.

"You didn’t eat last night." His voice was quieter than Evander’s, almost contemplative.

I stiffened. "I wasn’t hungry."

A lie.

They knew it.

And yet Rowan just hummed, his gaze dipping to the basket in my hands. "Eat now."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Dorian, who had been silent until now, let out a quiet chuckle from behind me. "Eat," he repeated, his voice low and smooth, edged with something I didn’t trust. "Or do you want us to feed you?"

Heat prickled across my skin.

I hated the way my body reacted to his voice—to all of them.

I hated that I could still feel the warmth of Dorian’s fingers on my wrist from last night, the way Evander’s gaze made my stomach tighten, the way Rowan’s sudden quiet intensity set my wolf on edge.

I hated that a part of me wanted to listen.

I forced myself to glare up at them, my voice flat. "I don’t need anything from you."

Dorian’s smirk widened, but there was something in his eyes. Something unreadable. "Suit yourself, little rogue."

I turned sharply, pushing past them before they could say anything else.

But I felt them watching me the entire time.

And I knew—this was different.

***

The triplets didn’t let up.

All morning, they were there.

Watching.

Lurking.

Interfering.

Whenever I tried to scrub the floors, Evander would stroll through the hallway, tracking mud across the spots I’d just cleaned—forcing me to start over.

Whenever I carried dishes, Rowan would pass too close, brushing against me just enough to make me lose balance—just enough that I had to grab onto him to steady myself.

And whenever I tried to vanish into the background like I always did, Dorian would be there, leaning against a doorway, watching me with a smirk that sent unwelcome heat curling in my stomach.

They weren’t laughing at me today.

They weren’t throwing cruel insults.

But somehow, this was worse.

What the hell was happening?