Chapter 1
- Scarlet's POV
- Another morning, another day, another reminder of just how painful it felt to be in existence. I was a wolf; a young wolf I must add, and it was supposed to be a good thing. It wasn't. I did wish I was a human sometimes, so I could simply justify my sufferings.
- In the pack, we all were werewolves, yet we were not all equal. There were different privileges given to different wolves of different ranks and there were wolves, like me, who had no privileges whatsoever. Instead, they were part of the privileges of the other wolves. Wasn't life just so wonderful?
- All the wolves had their ranks in the pack and those ranks determined how they were going to be treated or regarded in the pack. The highly placed ones demanded the service of the lowly wolves. That was just how things worked in the werewolf community and in my pack too.
- The Alphas were the wolves of the royal family. They were in charge of making the rules and ensuring that everyone followed them. Whatever they said always happened in the pack. Challenging an alpha was simply an invitation to a fight to the death. No one wanted that. Amongst the alphas was the alpha of alphas who in simple terms, was the king of the pack. He was the highest ranked wolf in the pack and the leader supreme.
- Then, there were the Betas. They were the second in command. Every Alpha had a Beta, or at least, should have a Beta. They aren't born into royalty but they're treated as such by everyone else in the pack because of their unique association with the alphas. They enjoy a lot of privileges and are also the enforcers of the laws of the alphas.
- The next set of wolves was the omegas. These low-ranked wolves don't deserve to be talked about but I felt I should mention them. They were the wolves of the lowest class. Some called them "The classless wolves." All they did was do a lot of work for the alphas and the betas with nothing in return except punishment for work badly done and nothing for a job well done. The reward for doing a job well was simply not being punished. What could be better than that?
- I was one of them. If there was a rank for the lowest ranked omega, it'd have been mine without a question. Amongst all the low-ranked wolves, I felt I was the least of them. I despised my existence. Yet, death wouldn't stop frowning at me. Perhaps, it was my destiny to be treated that way.
- There was also a certain group of wolves that didn't fall into any class. They were called the rogues. These were rogues from the different classes who had decided to rebel against the ruling wolves. They were always in hiding, looking for the best time to strike any wolf they could lay their hands on in the pack. They were not considered part of the pack.
- I had always admired the structure of the pack. It was something that made me see just how powerful a proper organization was. Everyone paid attention to the hierarchy and because of that, there was great orderliness. Every wolf was well aware of his or her responsibility in the pack even without being told. Everyone knew their places. It was a powerful structure.
- Yet, it was the same structure that led to my current predicament. If it weren't for it, things might have played out quite differently. I may not have been viewed by everyone else as an object that had no other option but to serve others. Maybe, I would have been treated with more respect.
- I sat up on my bed, thinking of what life had in store for me. My mind went right back to how things had been over the years. The maltreatment I had always received in the hands of the other wolves. The unending victimization which I had grown to get used to.
- I looked at the scar on my right hand, that refused to leave. It was from a brutal beating that I received from one of the warriors a few years ago.
- "Scarlet!" He had called out from outside my room which I always preferred to call a cubicle but was prohibited from doing that. They said it was befitting enough to be my room, despite the size. "Where are my shoes?"
- He had asked me to clean his shoes the night before and I did. I left it outside for the sun to help it shine better after polishing it, only to forget that I left something like that outside. It rained quite heavily that night and as soon as I stepped outside to where I had left the pair of shoes, I couldn't see them anymore. The rain must have carried them away and I had to find them.
- I searched for it around the area and after about twenty minutes, I saw the shoes. They were so soggy and had sand all over them. I was supposed to make them better, but I had made them worse and such crimes weren't taken lightly at all.
- As I approached the warrior, Mario, he was called, he smiled wickedly, staring at his once beautiful pair of shoes.
- "I'm… I'm so sorry," I apologized, hoping to evade the inevitable but it fell on deaf ears. He hit me so hard across the face before I could even have time to think. "Are you freaking stupid?" He screamed at my face.
- I held my lips and took out my hands to have a look at my fingers when I felt a liquid substance on them. It was my blood. He had cut my lips open with just one punch.
- He spat on my face and stomped on my stomach one last time, as I yelped in pain. Then he was gone. I thanked the goddess in my heart. It could have been worse.
- if only he was going to stop there.