I Was Wolfless, Now I'm the Wolf Goddess

I dragged a damp rag across the polished oak table, scrubbing at an invisible smudge. Five years. I had occupied the Luna’s seat for five years, but no one in the pack actually viewed me as their female leader. To them, I was just my Alpha’s unpaid senior nanny.

There was only one reason for this treatment. I had no wolf.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor. Damon Blackthorn strode into the dining room. He carried the overwhelming, suffocating pressure unique to an Alpha, his broad shoulders easily filling the doorway. His large hand enveloped the small fingers of our son, Noah, the future heir to the Blackthorn Pack.

Neither of them wanted a wolfless freak as the mother of the next Alpha. They walked right past me and claimed the chairs I had just finished cleaning.

"Dad, I have a parent-teacher conference tomorrow," Noah said, swinging his legs beneath the table. "Can you come?"

Damon pulled his phone from his suit pocket, his thumb swiping across the screen. "Elders from the neighboring packs are visiting tomorrow. I have meetings scheduled until late evening. Sorry, Noah."

Noah groaned, slapping his hands flat on the wood. "What am I supposed to do then? I don't want to be the only kid in class without a parent there."

I paused my cleaning. My heart gave a tiny, hopeful flutter. I opened my mouth to offer. I was always free. I spent my days waiting in this massive, empty house, desperate for any chance to act like a real mother to him.

"Then let Aunt Vivian Ashford go," Noah declared, cutting me off before I could make a sound.

My teeth clicked together. I swallowed the words burning in my throat.

"She was your partner at the pack gala last time," Noah continued, a bright, eager smile breaking across his face. "Dad, go ask Aunt Vivian. She'll definitely want to do it."

Vivian Ashford.

The name tasted like rust on my tongue. I remembered that gala perfectly. Damon had chosen Vivian as his dance partner instead of his own wife, leaving me standing alone by the punch bowl while they glided across the floor. The entire Vale family became the laughingstock of the pack that night. Whispers had followed me into every corner of the ballroom.

My father, Edmund Vale, had been furious.

*"You useless embarrassment,"* my father had spat at me after the guests left, dragging me down the hall by my arm.

He shoved me inside the estate’s windowless confinement room. The heavy iron door slammed shut, plunging me into absolute pitch-black. To a normal werewolf, a night in the dark was a mild reprimand. But I wasn't normal. A childhood accident had left me with crippling claustrophobia.

In that suffocating space, I had scratched the metal door until my fingernails cracked. I gasped for air that felt thick and heavy, screaming until my vocal cords gave out. I nearly fainted from the sheer panic, curled into a tight ball on the freezing stone floor.

Damon knew absolutely nothing about the punishment. He didn't know about my fear of the dark. He never bothered to ask why I left the hallway lights on every single night.

I stared down at the table, keeping my expression entirely blank as I moved the rag in slow, sweeping circles.

Damon lifted his gaze from his phone. His dark eyes locked onto my face. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and a sudden, inexplicable irritation flared in his posture. He hated my silence. He hated my lack of reaction. To him, my quiet endurance was just another sign of weakness.

"Fine," Damon told Noah, his tone sharp. "I'll tell Vivian. She can accompany you to the conference."

"Yes!" Noah cheered. He hopped off his chair and sprinted down the hallway toward his bedroom, his sneakers squeaking against the floorboards.

The dining room grew uncomfortably quiet.

I wrung out the rag over a decorative bowl, watching the dirty water pool at the bottom. I turned around, keeping my hands firmly at my sides.

"Maybe..." I started, keeping my voice soft, tentative. "Are you busy for lunch tomorrow, too? We could eat together."

Damon stared at me as if I had just suggested we surrender our territory to rogues. His brow furrowed, casting dark shadows over his sharp cheekbones.

"Serena, do you honestly think you are more important than the pack elders?"

He shoved his chair back. The wooden legs screeched harshly against the floor. He stood up, towering over me, his Alpha aura pressing down on my shoulders like physical weights.

"I have trade agreements to finalize. I have border disputes to settle. And you want me to drop everything for a lunch date?"

I kept my chin level, refusing to shrink away from his anger. "It's just an hour, Damon."

"The steak you made tonight was completely unpalatable," he snapped, completely ignoring my plea. His voice echoed off the high ceilings. "It was tough and overcooked. Your cooking is getting worse by the day."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I had spent three hours marinating that meat, carefully following the recipe his mother had given me.

"If you can't even handle these simple things," Damon said, his voice dropping into a lethal, icy register, "I don't mind replacing the Luna. The pack needs a capable leader, not a maid who can't even grill meat properly."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned on his heel and marched out of the room. The heavy oak front door slammed shut a minute later, rattling the glass in the windowpanes.

I stood alone in the center of the dining room.

He didn't remember. Tomorrow wasn't just a day for visiting elders or parent-teacher conferences.

Tomorrow was our fifth wedding anniversary.

I tossed the dirty rag onto the table. A strange numbness washed over me, starting from my chest and spreading to my fingertips. I didn't cry. Tears were a luxury I had abandoned years ago. Instead, a dry, hollow laugh slipped past my lips. Five years of trying to be perfect, five years of swallowing my pride, and I was still just a placeholder.

The silence of the house pressed in on me, heavy and mocking.

Then, a voice echoed inside my mind.

It didn't come from the hallway. It didn't come from the open window. It echoed directly inside my skull. The tone was smooth, dark, and utterly foreign.

*"If he won't spend the anniversary with you, why not find someone else? There are plenty of wolves."*

I froze. My hands gripped the edge of the table. I spun around, scanning the empty room.

"Who's there?" I whispered.

Only the ticking of the grandfather clock answered me.