Chapter 1 The Price of Being Born Poor

The first thing Seraphina Vale learned about the world was that kindness was a luxury poor people could rarely afford.

The second was that being born into a werewolf pack did not mean the pack would treat you like family.

At seventeen, Seraphina had already learned to lower her head when wealthy pack members passed, swallow her anger when they insulted her, and pretend their cruel words did not hurt.

But there was one thing she had never learned to do.

She had never learned to stop hoping that one day, things would be different.

"Seraphina!"

Her mother's voice drifted from the little cottage behind her.

"Don't forget to buy the flour before you come home!"

"I won't, Mother!" Seraphina called back.

She adjusted the basket on her arm and glanced over her shoulder.

Elara Vale stood in the doorway, wearing her usual faded dress. Her dark hair was loosely tied at the back of her head, and a gentle smile rested on her face.

Despite their circumstances, her mother always tried to look cheerful.

Their cottage was small, its wooden walls weathered by years of rain and wind. The roof leaked whenever the rain grew heavy, and the kitchen contained little more than a cracked cooking pot, two wooden cups, and a table that wobbled whenever someone leaned against it.

Still, it was home.

And as long as her mother was there, Seraphina believed she could endure almost anything.

"Do you have enough money?" Elara asked.

Seraphina opened her palm.

Three small coins rested against her skin.

Her mother sighed.

"That won't buy much."

"I know." Seraphina smiled. "But I'll find a way."

"You always say that."

"And I always do."

Elara shook her head, though amusement softened her expression.

"Come back before sunset. And stay away from the packhouse."

Seraphina frowned. "Why?"

"No reason. I simply don't want you getting into trouble."

"Mother, I don't get into trouble."

Elara raised an eyebrow.

Seraphina hesitated.

"Not intentionally."

Her mother laughed softly.

For a moment, the world felt ordinary.

Seraphina wished she could preserve that moment forever.

"Go on," Elara said. "And remember what I taught you."

Seraphina recited the familiar words. "Never let other people's cruelty decide the kind of person I become."

"Good girl."

Seraphina smiled, then turned toward the market.

She didn't know that those would be the last peaceful words she would exchange with her mother for a long time.

---

The Blackthorn Pack was one of the larger werewolf territories in the region, governed by Alpha Darius Blackthorn.

The packhouse stood proudly at the center of the settlement, surrounded by beautiful gardens and expensive homes belonging to influential families.

The farther one walked from the packhouse, however, the poorer the surroundings became.

Seraphina lived near the outer edge of the settlement, where the roads were uneven and the houses were old.

People rarely visited that part of the territory unless they had business there.

And even when they did, they made certain the residents understood that they were inferior.

Seraphina had grown used to it.

She had learned to ignore the whispers whenever she entered the market.

There goes Elara's daughter.

I wonder how they survive.

Perhaps the Alpha should have sent them away years ago.

She kept walking.

She had flour to buy, and arguing with people who enjoyed humiliating her would not put food on their table.

Unfortunately, not everyone was willing to let her pass peacefully.

"Well, look who decided to show her face."

Seraphina stopped.

She knew that voice.

Kael Blackthorn stood beside a fruit stall, surrounded by two young werewolves who seemed to find everything he said amusing.

At eighteen, Kael was already treated like royalty. He was the Alpha's only son, and everyone expected him to inherit his father's position.

He had dark hair, a confident smile, and the irritating habit of looking at people as though they existed solely for his entertainment.

His gaze moved over Seraphina's faded dress.

"Tell me, Vale, does your family own anything that isn't falling apart?"

One of his companions laughed.

Seraphina tightened her grip on her basket.

"Good morning to you too, Kael."

His smile widened.

"How polite. Did your mother teach you that, or is pretending to be respectable the only thing poor people have left?"

The laughter grew louder.

Seraphina felt heat creep into her cheeks.

She could have walked away.

She should have walked away.

But something about his expression made her angry enough to forget her usual caution.

"At least my mother taught me manners," she replied. "Perhaps you should ask yours to teach you some."

The laughter stopped.

Kael's smile disappeared.

For one brief second, Seraphina felt a flicker of satisfaction.

Then he stepped toward her.

"What did you say?"

She immediately regretted speaking.

"Nothing."

"No. I heard you."

His eyes narrowed.

"You think you're clever because you can put a few words together?"

Seraphina said nothing.

Kael reached into her basket and pulled out the small piece of bread she had bought for herself.

"Is this your breakfast and lunch?"

"Give it back."

He examined the bread with exaggerated interest.

"Pathetic."

"Kael, please."

He dropped it onto the dusty ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

Seraphina stared at the ruined bread.

It had been the cheapest thing she could afford, and she had planned to save half for the following morning.

Now it was covered in dirt.

Something inside her tightened.

"Why do you keep doing this?" she whispered.

Kael tilted his head.

"Doing what?"

"Treating me like I'm not a person."

His expression remained cold.

"Perhaps because you keep forgetting your place."

He leaned closer.

"You should be grateful I allow you to walk around this territory without being reminded every day that your family contributes nothing to this pack."

Seraphina's eyes burned.

She wanted to shout at him.

She wanted to tell him that poverty was not a crime, that her mother worked harder than many of the wealthy women who mocked them, and that he was nothing more than a spoiled boy hiding behind his father's title.

Instead, she bent down and picked up her basket.

She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"One day," she said quietly, "you'll understand that being powerful doesn't make you better than everyone else."

Kael laughed.

"One day, you'll understand that people like you don't get to tell people like me what to do."

He stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

"Now go home, Seraphina. Perhaps your mother has found a way to make your miserable life slightly less miserable."

She walked away without answering.

But his words followed her all the way through the market.

---

By the time Seraphina reached the flour stall, her hands were trembling.

She counted her remaining coins and bought the smallest portion available.

The seller, an older woman named Mara, watched her quietly.

"Kael again?"

Seraphina forced a smile.

"It's nothing."

"That boy has too much pride and too little sense."

Seraphina almost laughed.

If only more people were brave enough to say that aloud.

Mara placed the flour in a small cloth bag.

"Your mother came by yesterday."

Seraphina looked up.

"She did?"

"Yes. She asked whether I had seen anyone unfamiliar around the eastern road."

A strange feeling settled in Seraphina's stomach.

"The eastern road?"

Mara nodded.

"She seemed worried about something, but she wouldn't explain what it was."

Seraphina frowned.

"Did she say why she was asking?"

"No. She only told me to be careful about the people I trusted."

For a moment, Seraphina forgot about Kael.

Her mother had seemed perfectly normal that morning. Why would she be asking questions about strangers?

"Did she say anything else?"

Mara shook her head.

"Nothing I can remember."

Seraphina thanked her and left, but uneasiness followed her home.

Perhaps her mother had heard a rumor.

Perhaps someone had threatened her.

Or perhaps Seraphina was worrying over nothing.

She tried to convince herself of the last possibility.

After all, Elara had survived years of hardship. She was careful, sensible, and stronger than most people realized.

Nothing could happen to her.

Nothing would.

---

The sun had begun to set when Seraphina reached the cottage.

"Mother, I'm home!"

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Silence greeted her.

She placed the flour on the table and looked toward the bedroom.

"Mother?"

No answer.

Seraphina frowned.

Perhaps Elara was outside gathering herbs.

She walked into the kitchen and noticed that the cooking pot remained untouched. The small pile of firewood beside the wall had not been used.

Her mother usually prepared something before sunset.

A strange uneasiness stirred in her chest.

She checked the bedroom.

Empty.

Then she looked outside, searching the small yard.

"Mother?"

Only the wind answered.

Seraphina returned to the cottage and examined the room more carefully.

Her mother's shawl was missing from its usual place, and the sandals she wore when walking into the forest were gone.

Perhaps she had gone to gather herbs after all.

But why hadn't she told Seraphina?

And why had she left without preparing dinner?

Seraphina stepped outside again and looked toward the narrow path leading into the trees.

The sky was growing darker.

Her mother had always warned her about remaining in the forest after sunset.

She would never deliberately put herself in danger.

Would she?

Seraphina hurried back inside and lit the oil lamp.

She tried to busy herself with small tasks, arranging the cups and folding the blanket on the bed.

Every few minutes, she looked toward the door.

She told herself that her mother would return soon.

She had to.

An hour passed.

Then another.

The food remained untouched, and the cottage grew colder.

Finally, Seraphina could no longer pretend she wasn't afraid.

She grabbed her lantern and stepped outside.

"Mother!"

Her voice carried into the darkness.

"Elara!"

She walked along the familiar path, calling again and again.

No answer came.

At the edge of the forest, she stopped and looked between the trees.

Her mother's warning echoed in her mind.

Never go beyond the stone marker alone.

Seraphina remained where she was.

She couldn't risk getting lost too. But she could search the nearby paths, the riverbank, and the clearing where her mother gathered herbs.

She would search everywhere she could.

Her fingers tightened around the lantern.

"Please be safe," she whispered.

Then she turned toward the forest and began searching.

She had no idea that, somewhere within the Blackthorn Pack, people might already know more about Elara's disappearance than they were willing to admit.

And she had no idea that the simple life she had always known was about to collapse.