Chapter 1 #3
“Lyia!” Jack’s voice called from behind, but it sounded faint, like it was coming from another world. It didn’t matter anymore.
I burst through the doors into the sharp, cold autumn air, gasping as if I’d just broken the surface after being underwater too long.
The chill stung my tear-streaked face, grounding me in the moment.
Inside, my wolf was restless, pacing and whining, urging me to turn around, to run back to him, to curl up in his arms and let his warmth chase away the pain.
“No,” I whispered to her, my voice trembling as tears spilled over, carving paths down my cheeks. “We can’t. We just can’t.”
He wasn’t my mate. He couldn’t be. I’d endured too many betrayals, carried too much pain, to let myself fall into another trap. Especially one that looked so beautiful, so dangerously tempting, like a promise I knew would break me.
I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong.
He was everywhere.
After that day in the hallway, Devon Sterling became a shadow I couldn’t shake.
Every afternoon, his sleek black sports car was parked at the school’s entrance, its glossy finish reflecting the fading sunlight.
He leaned against the door, his tall frame impossible to miss, scanning the crowd for me.
His silver-gray eyes always found me, no matter how hard I tried to blend in.
I started taking the side exits, clutching my backpack straps like a lifeline, my heart racing with every step. I didn’t need his attention, didn’t need his pity, and definitely didn’t need the chaos he brought into my carefully controlled life. But today, he was waiting at my usual escape route.
“Lyia,” he said, his voice low and resonant, like the final note of a cello. My name sounded different on his lips, like it carried a weight I didn’t understand. “Let me drive you home.”
The setting sun cast a golden glow over him, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the casual grace of his posture.
He wore only a white shirt today, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms and that damn green hair tie on his wrist. My mouth went dry.
My wolf howled, desperate to close the distance, to taste the skin at his collarbone.
Get a grip, you ridiculous wolf! I scolded her, my cheeks burning. This was all his fault.
“I don’t need your charity, Mr. Sterling,” I said, forcing my voice to stay cold even as my legs trembled.
“Mr. Sterling?” He stepped closer, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. “I thought we were past formalities.”
He winked, that infuriating mix of innocence and mischief in his eyes. “We’ve been through too much together.”
He was doing it again—flirting, teasing, drawing me in with that effortless charm he wielded like a weapon. He was a master at this, charming girls until they fell at his feet. I wasn’t going to be another name on his list of conquests.
“Assuming we’re friends isn’t a good look, Mr. Sterling,” I snapped, emphasizing his name. I didn’t know why I was so angry, but the fire in my chest wouldn’t let me back down.
His bright eyes dimmed, and for a moment, he looked… hurt. Like a kicked puppy. Lyia, you’re losing it. Calling an Alpha a puppy?
“I don’t know what you want,” I said, my voice shaking more than I wanted. “People like me have nothing to offer you.”
It was a defense mechanism, honed over a decade of survival.
If I made myself small, worthless, I could avoid the pain of rejection.
Since I was ten, I’d lived in a world of cold glares and whispered insults.
I’d hoped my pack would help, but a criminal’s daughter didn’t qualify for aid.
I was ignored, stripped of my rights, denied even basic werewolf education.
I pieced together what I knew from eavesdropping, scraps of overheard conversations.
I bounced between relatives’ homes, never staying long before they shipped me off to the next.
A burden. That’s all I’d ever been.
I endured. I endured my aunt’s sharp nails jabbing my forehead as she screamed that I ate too much, even when I starved myself to avoid her wrath.
I endured my uncle’s rough hands dragging me across the floor, forcing me to scrub it with a rag too heavy for my small hands, then yelling at me to lick up the spilled water.
I endured the children—my cousins, my former friends—singing their cruel song as they circled me:
Little Lyia all alone, No house, no home to call her own.
Begging scraps from table to table, Worthless girl who’s just a label.
Nobody wants her, nobody cares, Empty pockets and tattered wears.
Lyia, Lyia, the charity case, Always taking, always a disgrace.
Their laughter haunted me, their faces blocking out the sky as I fell to the grass.
I endured their taunts, the insults about my father—a fraud, a thief, a coward who ruined lives.
I carried their hate, worked three jobs to survive, let Avery humiliate me, let drunken patrons at the bar touch me when I served their drinks.
I atoned for my father’s sins, but I was more than just a Clare. I was Lyia.
And no one ever saw Lyia.