Her Hidden Identity: Make the Bullies Crumble

Skylar's POV

"Happy Birthday!" My mom's voice rang out.

I blinked in surprise. Today was my eighteenth birthday. How had I forgotten? Four years ago, my life took a drastic turn when I first realized what I was—a rare and powerful breed of werewolf known as the Nightshade Lycan.

The Nightshade Lycan were the stuff of legends, feared for their unmatched strength, speed, and intellect. But without a mate to ground them, to share the burden of their immense power, they were vulnerable—prime targets for rogue werewolves who harbored a deep hatred for our kind. Not only rogues, but we were vulnerable to almost everyone because our flesh and blood could extend someone's life threefold. Anyone would kill to live longer. I say "our kind," but as far as I knew, I was the only one left.

The only ones who knew the truth were my parents and our pack's Alpha, Amir. To the rest of the world, I was Skylar—an omega who hadn’t shifted yet, two years overdue and considered the weakest link in our pack. My disguise was both a shield and a curse. It protected me from the wrong kind of attention but also made me the target of constant ridicule and bullying.

Grayson, the Alpha's son, was the worst of them all. He made it his mission to remind everyone of my supposed inferiority. "Skylar the Shifter-less Omega," he'd sneer, rallying the other pack members to join in his taunts. I could handle the name-calling and the whispers behind my back, but the physical abuse was something I had never gotten used to.

As I walked down the hallway, I kept my eyes low, avoiding the sneering gazes of my classmates. Upon reaching my locker, I hurriedly unloaded the books I didn’t need for my upcoming classes. My hands moved quickly, trying to finish the task before someone noticed me. I was just about to pick up my bag from the ground when I felt it—a sudden, brutal yank on my hair.

Pain exploded in my skull as my head was slammed against the metal locker. The impact left a dent in the door and a spray of blood across the cold surface. I crumpled to the floor, clutching my throbbing head as Grayson and Jaxon, stood over me, laughing.

"Oops, didn’t see you there, Skylar!" Grayson sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Jaxon just chuckled, a low, cruel sound that echoed down the hallway.

"Guess you should watch where you're going, omega," Jaxon added, his eyes gleaming with malice.

They walked away, still laughing, leaving me alone in the corridor. The pain was intense, but I knew it would only take a few minutes for my wound to heal—too fast for an omega, but I couldn’t let them see that. I had to maintain the facade, the lie that kept me safe, if only marginally. I pressed my fingers to my scalp, feeling the warm, sticky blood matting my hair.

I had one friend in the world—Leon. He was the only person who didn’t treat me like trash. But Leon tended to vanish, disappearing without a word and reappearing just as suddenly. He never explained where he went, and I never asked. Until now, there were still times I thought he was the biggest mystery. And yet, I knew, if he were here, he would have stood up for me. He would have gotten between me and those monsters, despite his own lack of strength.

I wondered where he was now.

"Just perfect," I muttered to myself, dragging my bag up from the floor.

I quickly made my way to the bathroom, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. The last thing I needed was for anyone else to see me in this state. I locked the door behind me and tossed my bag onto a cabinet. With trembling hands, I turned to the mirror.

A small cut above my left eyebrow stared back at me, blood still trickling down my temple. I sighed. This was becoming far too familiar. Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out my makeshift first-aid kit. It used to be just a makeup kit, but after years of bullying, it had evolved into something more.

I cleaned the wound as best as I could, wincing as the antiseptic stung the open cut. The healing had already started, but it would still take a few more minutes. I couldn't afford to walk around school with a rapidly closing wound—it would raise too many questions. So, as I waited, I pulled out my makeup and started applying a false wound. It had to look real, convincing enough to fool anyone who bothered to check.

I slumped down next to the sink, my back against the cool tiles. Today was my birthday, and yet, it was just another day in my living nightmare. No one had wished me well. No one even seemed to remember. It was as though I didn't exist.

Why was I allowing this? I thought to myself. Why am I letting them treat me like this?

But deep down, I knew why. This was the price I had to pay to stay hidden, to protect myself from the dangers that lurked outside. If they knew what I truly was, if they knew the power I held, I would be hunted, captured, and used as a tool or weapon—or worse, killed.

I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.