It has been 365 days since the day Gaius rejected me.
My life has been nothing but hell.
The first few weeks were the loudest. Screams, slaps, boots connecting with ribs already cracked from the night I tried to run. Gaius liked to make examples. He would drag me by the hair into the pack dining hall at dinner time, force me to kneel beside his chair like a dog, and every time someone dropped food—intentionally or not—he made me eat it off the floor. No hands. Tongue only.
The warriors laughed. The omegas looked away. My father never came to those dinners anymore.
Beau was worse when no one important was watching.
He had a favorite game he called “Count the Bruises.” Late at night, after the pack house quieted, he would slip into the tiny broom closet they gave me as a room. He never
