Fight for me

Isabelle sighed heavily as she stretched her hand over her head to reach the top of the shelf, her feet and back aching as she focused on the task. She had long accepted her cruel fate. A fate that even though she was born as the first child to the mighty Alpha Zane Zanotti, she had been forced and demoted to live a life that proved to be no different than that of an unfortunate orphan.

She sighed heavily as she contemplated her status, wondering if her lot would have been different had her mother been alive. Maybe she would have been treated better, her father would not have married the evil bitch that was her stepmother, Annabelle would never have been born, and her father would look at her with love and adoration in his eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t look at her with the cold indifference that she had grown so accustomed to. MayPerhaps would look at her with the same eyes and love he bestowed upon her sister, Annabelle.

But wishes were horses...and Isabelle couldn’t afford to ride them.

As though hearing her thoughts, her father sauntered in with her stepmother on his arm, his brows furrowed in deep thought and confusion, while her stepmother’s eyes shone with pure joy. Her gaze moved from her father to her stepmother, trying to decipher the situation and failing miserably.

“Welcome...” Isabelle greeted, only to be responded to with a nod of acknowledgment and a dismissive wave of the hand,

They ignored her existence, as they always did, and settled on the love couch that Isabelle had just painstakingly cleaned, her stepmother’s feet propped up on the center table.

Isabelle continued cleaning, increasingly aware of her parents’ eyes on her. Eyes that seemed to disappear the second she turned around. A chill ran down her spine, her hand around her rag tightening as she continued to clean. She could tell...she could feel it. There was a problem. Something was wrong, and good old Isabelle was right at the center of it.

The whisperings increased, and Isabelle couldn’t help herself. She turned around and tried to listen in on their conversation, somewhat convinced that whatever was being discussed was about her, about her life, and she wanted to know what was happening. But even as she stared intently at them, she couldn’t figure out what was being said.

Her stepmother’s head shot up, and their eyes met. Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat as she met her stepmother’s gaze, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re looking at?!” Fiona barked at her, her stern voice forcing a renewed fear into her.

“I’m sorry...” Isabelle muttered and turned back to her cleaning. And even as she cleaned meticulously, she couldn’t stop her heart from racing in her chest.

“Sorry for yourself...” Fiona replied and returned to discussing with her mate.

She tried to listen in again, failing miserably. Anger rose in her soul. Anger at herself, at her shortcomings, at her incompetence. She felt shame at not being able to hear a conversation that was happening so close to her. A feat that could be achieved by every other werewolf, even the omegas. And yet here she was...an alpha’s daughter...a grand, weak, useless failure. She blinked back the tears, determined not to mourn until her death.

Her sister, Annabelle, bounded down the stairs and barrelled into Isabelle, forcing the other woman into a forceful fall that ended with a blow to the side of her head. Isabelle opened her eyes to see her sister standing over her, a beauty to behold, laughing at her as she lay on the floor, her head throbbing and in pain.

“Next time, watch where you’re going, you wretched pig,” Annabelle said, her voice laced with venom and a small smile playing on her face. “You should know better than to block the path of your betters!”

Isabelle muttered an apology and slowly rose to her feet. The world around her spun, and she could feel liquid pouring down the side of her face. Her hand gently touched her face, and she sighed as she looked down at her blood-stained fingers. She could feel the headache coming on.

Once again, she cursed herself. She cursed how weak she was, how weak she felt. Her mates would not be fazed by a weak fall such as that one. Her mates healed fast. Complete healing. And then there was she, who carried around her injuries like a prize. A prize that showed the whole pack that she, who was the firstborn child of their alpha, who was supposed to be the next alpha, was weak and not fit for rule.

A fact that Annabelle knew and always tried to exploit, was to tell the whole pack that Isabelle might be the first, but Annabelle was stronger.

Isabelle looked on as Annabelle plopped herself down next to her mother, listening in on their conversation. They looked like the perfect family, they looked like a pretty picture. At that moment, Isabelle was reminded once again that she didn’t belong here. That she was a stranger, an intruder even.

Annabelle suddenly gasped loudly and turned to face her, pure glee and excitement reflected in her pretty brown eyes. Isabelle felt her hackles rise, and fear enveloped her. She knew at that moment that all her suspicions were correct. Whatever was being discussed directly concerned her. And whatever concerned her and made her stepmother and stepsister happy was only going to be to her detriment.

Isabelle forgot whatever task she had at hand and focused on the trio, her eyes wide in terror as she desperately tried to understand what was happening. Fiona’s eyes met hers again, and if looks could kill, Isabelle’s body would have turned to dust.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re looking at, you fucking rat?!”

Isabelle bristled at the razor-sharp tone and lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” She said.

Her father’s gaze rose to meet hers, and his normally bland and uninterested eyes held something in them. Something akin to pity...annoyance...maybe even a little compassion. His eyes roved over her person and made their home on her head, right where the blood still flowed down her face.

“Go up to your room,” her father said finally. “Take care of that on your head.”

Isabelle nodded and took herself up the stairs, thoughts running through her mind, running case scenarios, wondering what was happening. Wondering if this was something that she would survive. She closed the door to her tiny room and lay down on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, the blood still pouring out of her wound. She closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths.

She could feel it, a shift coming. She could feel her stars shifting, moving, and not in her favor. And she hated that there was nothing that she could do about it.