Chapter 3

They all crowded around her. A red, angry burn mark had appeared on her palm, the clear sign of silver.

"Who would send you silver?" Dad demanded. "There weren't any humans at the party. A wolf would know better."

Mom looked down at the box.

"Isn't that Mara's?"

Celeste's eyes instantly welled up with tears. "Please don't be angry with her," she said. "It was on my bedside table this morning. I was just happy she'd given me something."

Dad's face hardened.

"So that's why she hasn't come back. She knew what she'd done."

I can't believe I have such a vicious sister," Blake spat.

I recognized the box. I had seen Celeste take it from my room. Whatever she had put inside it, I hadn't given her a silver gift.

Dad kicked the empty box aside. "Get her to the pack healer."

Blake opened a drawer, then shut it. "There's no gauze left. I'll get some from the basement."

He turned toward the hall.

Celeste's eyes darted nervously toward the basement door. She caught his arm with her uninjured hand.

"Don't leave me. It hurts. The healer will have bandages."

He stopped. "All right. Come on."

I watched him help her toward the front door. He had been a few steps from the basement. Close enough to open the door. Close enough for his heightened senses to catch the overwhelming stench of my blood.

Mom fetched Celeste's coat. Dad hurried them outside.

I tried to call after them. No sound reached them, and the front door closed, leaving only my spirit tethered to the empty living room.

Even if they could hear me, what would I say that they hadn't already refused to believe?

The housekeeper came out to gather the torn wrapping paper. She picked up the box Dad had kicked across the floor and sighed.

"Miss Mara. Why do you never stand up for yourself?"

I drifted back upstairs. My journal lay where Blake had thrown it.

I had been ten when our family attended the Bloodline Awakening Ceremony. It was held once a decade to reveal the young wolves' forms and the abilities our pack valued so highly.

Blake went first. My older brother's wolf was pure black, a sign of strength and the potential to lead. Dad stood straighter as the pack applauded.

Celeste's wolf was snow-white. She had barely stepped onto the platform before the wolves nearest her relaxed. Her rare bloodline carried a calming gift.

Mom wrapped her in her arms afterward and called her our treasure.

Desperate to make them proud, I stepped onto the awakening platform, my heart pounding with anticipation. I just wanted Dad to look at me the way he looked at Blake. I wanted Mom waiting for me with open arms.

But the moment my wolf form materialized, a dead silence fell over the crowd.

My wolf was just an ordinary gray.

There was no special gift, no rare coat color to praise. I was so plain, so hopelessly average, that I would easily be lost in a crowd of pack members.

Dad's proud smile instantly vanished. Mom let her arms drop, turning her gaze back to Celeste.

After that, they spent their time and money developing Blake's strength and Celeste's gift. I could study on my own. I could make do with what was left.

Even the highest academic honors couldn't earn me a single embrace.

Blake and Celeste were the future. They were the family's treasures.

And I, just like my unremarkable gray wolf—

Was ordinary.

Expendable in life.

And entirely forgotten in death.