A knock on my door awakens me from my slumber
Soft. Polite. Expected.
I blink at the morning light slipping through the curtains. My limbs feel heavy, not with exhaustion—but with something deeper. Something unspoken.
Another knock. Gentler this time.
I force myself upright, feet hitting the cold floor, turning toward the door.
"Come in," I mutter. The wooden frame creaks, and she steps inside—the maid, a Walker. She lowers her gaze slightly, a silent gesture of respect, routine. "May I clean the room, young master?"
I nod. More out of habit than thought.She knows this house, this family, this name. She knows what I'm supposed to be. But we both know the truth. I am not. Not yet.**
I move toward the mirror.
The dim morning light catches the surface, revealing who I am .Pale brown skin. Scrawny, but built. Small, but strong for my age. Nine years old. Not a child. Not a wolf.I search my own eyes, looking for something that should be there but isn't.
There is no glow, no flicker of transformation waiting beneath my skin.
I am still human. And that means I am less. I push the thoughts away, stepping into the bathroom, stripping them away along with my clothes. The water is hot, almost burning, but I let it soak into my skin. Because at least I can feel something. When I'm done, I dress in something simple. Something expected.
And I head downstairs. Passing by the family portrait. The portrait has the whole family, painted when my late father and mother were still alive and when father was still the alpha of the pack , it potrays our family my grandmother, my father and mom on a couch while my uncle and aunt were standing beside them and my sister, cousins and i on the floor smiling and enjoying our time as happy family.
The dining room is bright, alive, full of voices.They are already seated , there is grqndma , Uncle Toby, Lilian, Connor, Ruk, Simma, Yona, my cousins, my aunt.
The weight of their presence settles over the room, familiar yet suffocating.
Two maids move through the space, serving breakfast with silent precision. I step forward and greet my family. I sit down. And then, like clockwork, it begins.
Connor leans forward, his smirk sharpening, his words measured. Deliberate. Cruel. "You know the rules, Donovan," he murmurs, voice quiet enough to sound almost casual, but loud enough that everyone hears him. Thirteen. The final awakening age.
"If you don't shift by then…" Connor exhales, shaking his head slightly. "You know what happens." I do. At thirteen, if my wolf doesn't come , then it never will.Then, I am nothing. Then, I am just human. The weight settles deep in my chest.
No one speaks against him. Even Toby doesn't deny it. Even Grandma stays silent. And Lilian? Her fists tighten on the table. But she doesn't say a word.Because she can't. Because even she doesn't know how to fight the truth.
Simma and Yona sit across from me, smaller than me, younger than me—and yet, they are already wolves.
Their presence reminds me of everything I am not.