They Banished Me from the Pack—Now They're Howling for Me Back

I didn’t return home out of longing—I came to pack what little was left of me. But when I stepped inside, I realized there was nothing worth remembering.

I had always lived in the warehouse—the smallest, dampest, darkest corner they could spare. There were only old clothes inside, and even those were just hand-me-downs no one else wanted. Elsa’s dressing room was three times the size of mine. Everything she no longer wanted ended up in my room—like I was nothing more than a dumping ground.

When I finished packing, my phone rang. It was the tomb keeper.

“Hello, Jennifer. You asked me to reserve the grave you picked, remember? If you come by with the silver coins soon and book it, I’ll keep it for you. Otherwise, someone else might take it.”

I chose a grave just a week ago.

It was quiet, wrapped in moonflowers and white roses—the kind of peace my wolf always dreamed of. She said she wanted to rest there, far away from this cruel, bitter world.

But now… her dream will never come true.

A pup like me, ignored by her own family—how could I possibly afford it?

My beta father wouldn’t even send a single healer when I was rotting from silver dust corrosion. What makes me think he’d give me a coin to buy my own grave?

I paused for a moment… then whispered, “I don’t need it anymore.”

My elder brother William came back just after I hung up the phone.

He walked over with a puzzled expression. “Grave? What are you talking about?”

For a moment, I thought—maybe, just maybe—he knew something. Maybe he cared.

But that illusion shattered the next second.

“What kind of game are you playing now, Jennifer?” he snapped. “I heard you stirred up the whole Werewolf Council—just to ruin Elsa’s shifting ritual?”

“Even I feel ashamed of you. You embarrassed our whole family.”

“Elsa cried her heart out, feeling guilty for your drama! You completely ruined her big day!”

“Do you even realize how important the first shift is for a werewolf?”

“If she hadn’t lost her real parents as a child, she wouldn’t have had to grow up in someone else’s home!”

“Why do you always cause trouble for her? Why can’t you just be kind to her for once?”

I stared at William’s furious face, feeling a lump rise in my throat so hard it choked me.

Wasn’t I the one always ignored? Always treated like an outsider in my own home?

Yes, Elsa’s shift mattered. But what about mine?

Not once—not once—had I joined a full moon run with our family since she arrived.

Every time they promised to go hunting with me, something just happened to Elsa. A fever. An allergy. Some excuse. And they’d rush to the infirmary with her… leaving me behind. Always.

From the day she stepped into this house, they poured everything into her—attention, care, love.

But when I shifted for the first time?

They forgot. Completely.

No one watched me transform. No one celebrated. No ritual. No guests. Not even a word of congratulations.

Yet for Elsa, they invited half the pack. They made a spectacle out of it.

I stared at William, tears welling up in my eyes, my voice shaking as I choked out the words:

“William, do you even remember the first time I shifted?”

“Not only did all of you forget it completely—you didn’t even care! No one said a word. No one asked me how it went, how I felt, or if I was scared.”

“It was supposed to be the most important moment in a werewolf’s life… and I went through it alone.”

It seemed that William remembered something—because for a brief moment, I saw guilt flicker in his eyes.

But his words were still cold. Ice-cold.

“Why are you being so petty?” he snapped.

“If you’d just admitted your mistakes and tried to make up for them, do you think our parents would’ve stayed angry for this long?”

Just then, the front door opened. I heard their voices even before they stepped inside.

My parents.

“How dare you mention your first shift!” my father roared. “You’re shameless!”

“You don’t deserve a ritual—not after what you did to Elsa!”

His fury hit me like a tidal wave. His wolf was so close to the surface, I could feel it—like it wanted to rip me apart.

“Elsa’s entire ritual was ruined because of you! But did she blame you? No. She begged us to forgive you. She cried so hard she fainted!”

“And you don’t even feel a hint of guilt? Apologize to her! Now!”

Elsa snapped out of her sorrow, stepped closer, and forced a pitiful smile. Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried a trace of understanding as she said:"

“There’s no need to apologize, Jennifer. But... could you please bake me that walnut cake? I’ve been craving it for so long.”

Mom’s face immediately softened, lighting up with misplaced warmth.

“Jennifer, just look at how kind Elsa is! She’s giving you a chance to make things right. Why won’t you take it?”

I stared at Elsa’s fake smile, my voice cold.

“Didn’t you say you’re allergic to nuts?”

“Are you trying to frame me for trying to kill you? You insist I bake you a walnut cake—just so you can accuse me of poisoning you?”