Fated to her Tormentors

The early morning mist clung to the trees as the sun barely began to creep over the ridge of the Hidden Valley. The packhouse was still, silent except for the rhythmic breath of the sleeping werewolves nestled inside. The soft clatter of dishes could be heard from the kitchen, barely audible to any of the slumbering pack members as one lone Omega worked to clean, before she started breakfast.

Charlie sighed as she scrubbed the last of the pots from the previous night's feast. Her hands were raw and cracked from the hot water and harsh soap, but she’d grown accustomed to the constant discomfort. Her back ached from hours spent hunched over, her feet sore from standing on the cold kitchen tiles, but she pushed on in silence, afraid of what would happen if she dared to complain.

At seventeen, Charlie was thin and small for her age, a stark contrast to the strong and well-built werewolves that surrounded her daily. Her long, brown hair was always tied in a messy bun, strands falling into her face, obscuring her weary eyes. She never had time to care for herself. Every moment of her day was dedicated to the pack—the same pack that treated her as nothing more than a burden.

She didn’t know why they hated her. No one ever told her what she’d done to deserve it, but the pack members didn’t need a reason to make her life miserable. The moment Greg, the Alpha of the Hidden Valley Pack, had found her abandoned on the outskirts of the territory twelve years ago, it was as if an unspoken decision had been made: Charlie would always be an outsider. She had no family, no memories of her past, nothing but the packhouse and the cold indifference of its occupants.

The door to the kitchen swung open with a creak, breaking the enjoyable silence. Charlie flinched, bracing herself for the usual onslaught of insults or demands that usually came from someone seeking her out. Leah, one of the unmated females, stood in the doorway, her lips twisted into a sneer.

“You missed a spot,” Leah said sharply, pointing to a faint grease stain on the counter. “Honestly, how are you so useless? You’re lucky the Alpha and Luna let you stay here at all.”

Charlie bit her tongue, nodding quickly and wiping the counter again with trembling hands. She had long since learned that talking back only made things worse.

Leah strutted over to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of juice. “And after you’re done here, make sure my laundry is folded properly this time. Last time, you left wrinkles in my shirts.”

“Yes, Leah,” Charlie mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Leah’s laughter echoed in her ears as she left the kitchen, leaving Charlie to her duties.

The rest of the day passed in much the same way. Cleaning, cooking, and serving the pack. Every now and then, one of the other females would mock her, push her, or demand something else to be done. She couldn’t remember a day when someone hadn’t found a reason to put her down.

By the time evening came, Charlie was exhausted. Her arms ached from scrubbing the floors, her knees sore from crouching all day, but she kept moving. She had to. There was no rest for her, no time to pause. The pack was throwing a small gathering that night to celebrate the upcoming birthdays of Luther and Liam, the Alpha’s twin sons, and everything had to be perfect.

The twins were nearing their 22nd birthdays, and the pack was abuzz with excitement. There was constant speculation about when they would find their mates, because it was unusual for Alphas to go this long without finding their mate.

Luther and Liam were the epitome of power and dominance. Tall, muscular, and confident, they were everything a future Alpha should be. While they were adored by most of the pack, Charlie knew better than to expect kindness from them. The twins had always been indifferent to her at best and cruel at worst. They never hesitated to exploit their power over her, just like the rest of the pack.

Charlie kept her head down as she worked in the kitchen, preparing the food for the gathering. She heard the laughter and chatter of the pack as they gathered in the dining hall. Every once in a while, someone would come into the kitchen to fetch more drinks or food, shooting her a disdainful look as if her presence was an offense to their festivities.

As she was carrying a tray of drinks to the hall, the door swung open suddenly, causing Charlie to stumble. The tray slipped from her hands, glasses shattering on the floor. The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward her.

For a moment, Charlie stood frozen in place, her heart racing as she stared at the broken glass.

“Look what you’ve done now,” Luther’s voice rang out, his tone laced with irritation. He was standing at the head of the table, his dark eyes narrowing at her. Liam stood beside him, a similar expression of disdain on his face.

“I-I’m sorry,” Charlie stammered, quickly kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of glass. Her hands shook, and she winced as a shard sliced into her palm. Blood dripped onto the floor, mixing with the spilled drinks.

Liam snorted. “Maybe if you weren’t so pathetic, you wouldn’t keep screwing up. How hard is it to carry a tray, anyway?”

The pack members around the table laughed, some whispering insults under their breath. Charlie’s face burned with humiliation, but she kept her head down, not daring to respond. Her hands worked quickly to gather the shards of glass, ignoring the pain in her palm.

As Charlie gathered the last of the glass, she quickly cleaned up the mess and retreated back to the kitchen. Her heart pounded in her chest, tears threatening to spill, but she swallowed them down quickly. She learned long ago that crying would only make things worse.

Once inside the kitchen, Charlie slumped against the counter, pressing a cloth to her bleeding hand. Her body shook with exhaustion, but there was no rest for her, not yet. There was always more to be done.

Outside, the celebration continued, the sounds of laughter and conversation floating through the air. Charlie felt a pang of longing deep in her chest, a yearning to be part of something, to belong. But she knew better than to dream of such things. She was nothing more than a slave to the pack, an outsider who had never been accepted or given a chance.

The twins were the exact opposite of her. They were the pride of the Hidden Valley Pack; strong and dominant like a future Alpha should be.They had their whole lives mapped out in front of them, set to start as soon as they found their mate and future Luna.

She felt a twinge of something she couldn’t quite name—jealousy, perhaps, or maybe just sadness. She knew that her future held no such promise. Mates were a blessing from the Moon Goddess, a bond forged by destiny, but Charlie doubted that destiny had anything in store for her beyond this life of servitude.

As the night finally came to an end and the pack house fell silent once more, Charlie finished her chores and slipped away to her small room at the far end of the house. It was little more than a closet, tucked away behind the laundry room, but it was hers. She collapsed onto the thin mattress, her body aching, her mind heavy with exhaustion.

She stared at the ceiling, listening to the distant howls of the wolves outside as they celebrated under the moonlight. Charlie knew she would never be one of them. She would always be the pack’s punching bag, the girl with no past and no future.