I was sold by my own father.
Not for survival.
Not out of desperation.
But for money.
My name is Beatrice.
But everyone calls me Betty.
And if you're reading this… then you should know one thing:
I didn't survive because I was strong.
I survived because I had no choice.
I was born an omega.
So was my little brother, Jasper.
And in the Darkmoon Pack… that meant we were nothing.
Less than wolves.
Less than slaves.
We were mistakes that breathed.
My father reminded me of that every day.
His hands were cruel. His words worse.
Some nights, I would lie on the cold floor, my body aching, my vision blurry, and I would think—
Maybe it would be easier to just die.
But then…
Jasper would curl up beside me.
Small. Fragile. Trusting me.
And I would force myself to breathe again.
Because if I died…
He would be alone.
I was seventeen.
One year away from shifting.
One year away from finding my mate.
One year away from freedom… or so I thought.
Darkmoon Pack was the strongest pack in America.
Feared. Ruthless. Untouchable.
And ruled by an Alpha who hated omegas.
No one knew why.
Some said his mother was one of us.
Others said he killed his own kind for sport.
I didn't care which was true.
All I knew was this:
If he ever noticed me… I was already dead.
Then my mother died.
She didn't die all at once.
She faded.
Day by day.
Like something inside her had already given up.
Her wolf stopped fighting long before her body did.
But she stayed… for us.
For me.
For Jasper.
The night she died, Jasper cried until his voice broke.
I didn't cry.
I couldn't.
Because someone had to stay strong.
"It's going to be okay," I told him.
Even though I knew it wasn't.
We buried her ourselves.
No ceremony. No pack. No respect.
Because omegas didn't deserve that.
Jasper made her cross.
It was crooked.
Ugly.
Perfect.
"Rest well, Mum," I whispered.
Then I walked away.
Because in our world…
You don't get time to grieve.
Two days later…
My life ended.
My father came home drunk.
But he wasn't alone.
The two men with him didn't look like wolves.
They looked like predators.
The kind that smiled too much.
The kind that stared too long.
Then my father said my name.
"Beatrice."
I froze.
He never used my name.
Not unless something was wrong.
"…Yes, Father," I whispered.
He smiled.
And I knew...
I was in danger.
"We've agreed on the price," he said casually.
Price.
The word echoed in my head.
"There's another one too," he added. "Male. Omega."
My blood ran cold.
Jasper.
Run.
My body moved before my mind could think.
I turned..
A hand slammed onto my shoulder.
"And where do you think you're going?" he asked.
Soft.
Deadly.
"I..I need to get Jasper," I stammered.
Silence.
Then..
"…Go."
I didn't wait.
"Jasper," I whispered urgently, shaking him awake.
He blinked. "Betty…?"
"We have to leave. Now."
"Why...?"
"No time. Move!"
My heart was racing.
My hands were shaking.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
The window.
Our only way out.
"Climb," I told him, lifting him up. "I'm right behind you."
Footsteps.
Coming closer.
"Beatrice!!"
Hurry.
Jasper dropped to the ground outside.
I threw the bag after him.
"Run!"
"BEATRICE!!!"
Too late.
Pain exploded in my scalp.
A hand yanked me backwards.
"Ahh! Father, please!"
"Trying to run?" he growled.
"Betty!!" Jasper screamed.
I reached for the window.
For freedom.
For him.
But I never made it.
The last thing I felt…
Was my body hitting the ground.
Hard.
Cold.
Lifeless.
Then darkness swallowed me whole.