Chapter 1 - The Weight of Being Worthless
The copper taste of betrayal lingered in Reena’s mouth long before she ever set foot inside the royal fortress. At twenty-three, in a pack structure built entirely on muscle, teeth, and territorial dominance, being born wolfless was equivalent to a death sentence carried out in slow motion.
Her younger sister, Lissa, was everything the Shadow-Ridge Pack adored. Lissa had shifted at thirteen under a clear midnight sky, revealing a sleek silver coat that shimmered like polished steel. Her father had thrown a festival that lasted three days. But Reena? Reena had stood beneath every full moon for a decade, waiting for the burning fever of the shift that never arrived. No internal clawing. No golden flash in her eyes. No primal spirit whispering in the back of her mind. She was empty. A ghost living among apex predators.
When her father’s gambling debts caught up with their household, the debt collectors didn’t take the family home or the cattle. They wanted blood. Beta Cornelius, a ruthless enforcer with eyes as cold as river stones, had leaned against the wooden doorway, sweeping a dismissive glance across the room. He passed right over Lissa—too valuable as a future breeding partner for a high-ranking warrior—and fixed his sight on Reena.
"The royal palace requires someone disposable," Cornelius had drawled, his voice thick with casual cruelty. "The Alpha King’s heir has been screaming for three months straight. Thirteen wet nurses have fled or been executed. Eight healers have thrown up their hands. Twenty-seven servants were banished. The king is losing his mind."
Reena remembered how her father hadn't even hesitated. He didn't look at her. He didn't wring his hands. He simply blurted out, "Take Reena. She’s good with kids. She won't be missed."
She won't be missed.
Those four words burned into Reena’s soul like molten lead. She had lifted her chin, gripped her tiny canvas bag, and stepped into the black carriage without shedding a single tear. If the world considered her a sacrifice, she would walk into the fire on her own terms.
When the carriage reached the obsidian gates of the Lycan Citadel, the air felt heavy with static electricity. The palace was an ancient, sprawling stone titan carved directly into the mountain face. But louder than the roaring winds or the heavy iron gates was the sound echoing from the high towers.
It wasn't a baby's normal cry. It was an agonizing, raw shriek that vibrated through the stone floorboards. It sounded like a wild animal being torn apart from the inside.
Inside the sprawling nursery, King Jacob stood by the hearth. He looked less like a king and more like a myth carved from shadow and sorrow. Clad in black leather and steel armor, his broad shoulders were hunched with exhaustion. His dark eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw was set in a jagged line of pure, unadulterated grief. His mate—the Queen—had died during childbirth, leaving him with an infant heir who seemed cursed by the gods.
"My son, Samuel, has not slept more than ten minutes at a time since he was born," Jacob said, his voice a low, gravelly rumbler that made the air tremble. He didn't turn to look at Reena. "Everyone who has tried to fix him has failed. I do not tolerate failure. If you break under this pressure, you will leave this palace through the back gates in a wooden box."
Reena swallowed the knot in her throat, refusing to show fear. "And if I don't fail?"
Jacob slowly turned his head. His gaze was suffocatingly intense. "Then you stay alive." He stepped toward the arched doorway, pausing briefly. "A word of advice, wolfless girl. Samuel is not a normal infant. Do not scream at what you see."
When the heavy oak door clicked shut, Reena turned toward the oversized mahogany crib in the center of the room. The shrieking reached a deafening crescendo.
She approached cautiously and looked inside. Her breath hitched.
The baby—barely three months old—was thrashing in a tempest of wild, uncontrolled magic. Before her eyes, his tiny fingernails lengthened into sharp black claws. Fine brown fur rippled across his arms and cheeks, only to retract a second later as his skin tore slightly, bleeding tiny drops of gold-tinged blood. His sweet baby eyes flashed from dark brown to terrifying, blinding gold. The baby wasn't just crying—his newborn body was attempting to force a full Lycan transformation years before his bones were ready to handle it.
The previous nurses had tried to strap the infant down with leather restraints. They had used iron charms and sedatives, trying to force the wolf back into hiding. They treated the baby like a monster.
Reena didn't see a monster. She saw a terrified, heartbroken child trapped in a body he couldn't control.
Ignoring the danger, Reena unbuckled the harsh leather straps binding the child. She reached down and scooped Prince Samuel into her arms.
Instantly, the baby panicked. His tiny, razor-sharp claws slashed across Reena’s collarbone, slicing through her simple linen uniform and drawing bright red lines of blood. Pain flared across her chest, but Reena didn't pull away. She didn't drop him. Instead, she pulled him tighter against her heart, burying her face in his soft hair.
"I know," Reena whispered, her voice a soothing cadence amidst the storm. "I know it hurts so much, sweet boy. You don't have to hide it from me."
She began to rock back and forth, her feet rhythmically sweeping across the stone floor. She didn't try to suppress his magic. She didn't fight his claws. She simply held him close, offering her body as a shield against his own chaotic energy.
"Once upon a time," she hummed softy, starting a story her grandmother had told her long ago, "there was a girl made of glass. Everyone thought she was weak because they were afraid she would shatter. But because she was glass, she could see right through people. She saw the pain behind their anger. She saw the fear behind their strength..."
Samuel’s thrashing slowed. His tiny, blood-stained claws slowly retracted back into baby fingers. The golden light in his eyes softened, fading back to a gentle brown. His desperate, chest-heaving sobs reduced to small, hiccuping whimpers.
Reena kept swaying, singing softly into the quiet night.
For the first time in ninety days, silence fell over the royal citadel. Samuel rested his small head against Reena’s collarbone, clutching her torn shirt with tiny fingers, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
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When Reena looked up, she froze.
King Jacob was standing in the doorway. He had been watching from the shadows. His face was pale, his dark eyes wide with shock as he stared at his sleeping son—and at the wolfless girl who held him without fear.
