Chapter 1

Layla’s POV

This damn broom’s handle was tearing my hands apart. Every sweep across the icy stone floor of Duskstar Home’s dining hall in Forks, Washington, stung like a bitch. Sister Agnes beat my hands raw yesterday for 'shitty dishwashing'.

Olivia, my best friend, my sister in all but blood, was sweeping next to me. Her rose-gold hair was matted with sweat, her blue eyes huge with panic. We were a week from turning eighteen, counting the days until we’d shift into our wolves—our only shot at getting the hell out of this dump.

Sister Agnes towered over us, all skin and bones, looking pissed as always. “Move your asses, you worthless brats!” she barked, her voice sharp as a slap. “You’re a waste of food and space. Sweep faster, or I’ll throw you in the cellar with the rats!”

Olivia flinched, ducking behind me, her fingers gripping my ripped dress. Her shaking made me want to lose it, but I kept my head down, choking back my anger.

Agnes wasn’t done. “Look at you, Layla,” she sneered, her eyes cold. “Think you’re hot shit? You’re trash, born from trash. And you, Olivia, with that whore’s hair—your mom was a slut, and you’re no different. I should shave your head!”

Olivia choked on a sob. I stepped in front of her, my heart pounding. “We’re working, Sister,” I said, staring her down. My hands shook. I wanted to deck her, but I knew the price—more bruises, no food, or a night in the creepy-ass cellar where the dark felt like it could swallow you whole.

Agnes jabbed a bony finger at me. “Work harder, Layla, or you’ll both sleep outside like dogs! You think you’re tough? You’re nothing, just like your mom who dumped you here.”

The other kids at the tables laughed. Clara, the worst of them, leaned forward with a nasty grin. “Look at Layla, playing hero,” she mocked, tossing her braid. “You’re a mutt nobody wants, protecting your pathetic friend.”

“Shut your face, Clara,” I snapped.

“What? Gonna cry?” Clara laughed. “You’re nothing, Layla. Garbage.”

Yesterday, Clara tripped Olivia in the kitchen, making her spill our only meal, some watery soup. “Lick it up, bitch!” Clara had yelled, kicking dirt into Olivia’s hair as she scrambled on the floor. Finn, Clara’s gross sidekick, cornered me last week, pinning me against a wall. His breath stank. “You’re a slut, Layla,” he’d whispered, grabbing at my waist. “Always will be.” I kneed him hard, but it got me a bruised rib and no dinner.

“Keep your mouth shut, Clara,” I said, clenching my fists.

“Or what?” she taunted. “You gonna fight me? You’re weak.”

Olivia’s voice was small. “Stop it, Clara. Please.”

Clara laughed louder. “Aw, the baby’s begging. Gonna run to Layla again?”

“Enough!” Agnes barked. “Get back to work!”

We kept sweeping, my hands burning, Olivia’s eyes wet. Later, in our moldy little room, we’d curled up on our creaky cot. Olivia cried into my shoulder. “Why do they hate us, Layla?” she’d whispered.

“We’ll get out soon,” I told her, my eyes stinging. “Our wolves will make us strong.”

She nodded, her voice soft. “When I’m Luna, I’ll make them pay. An Alpha will pick me, and we’ll live in a big house with nice clothes.”

“I’ll be there with you,” I said, forcing a smile despite my empty stomach. “We’ll show them all.”

Jett, the groundskeeper, was the only one who wasn’t a total asshole. He’d slip us stale bread or a candy on holidays, his smile keeping us going. We trusted him in this place where no one else gave a damn.

But today, cleaning the dusty storage room for “dirty dishes,” something felt off. Jett stood in the doorway, watching me. His usual kindness was gone, replaced by a creepy vibe. My body had changed lately—bigger hips, my chest stretching my ratty dress—and his eyes lingered on me, gross and wrong.

Clara and Finn showed up, blocking the door. “Look at Layla, all alone,” Clara sneered. “No one to save you now.”

“Back off,” I said, gripping the broom tight.

Finn smirked, stepping closer. “What, you gonna hit me? You’re nothing.”

Olivia ran over from where she was cleaning. “Leave her alone!” she yelled, her voice shaky.

Clara shoved Olivia hard, making her stumble. “Stay out of this, whore!”

I lunged at Clara, but Finn grabbed my arm, twisting it. “You’ll regret that,” he hissed.

“Stop it!” Jett’s voice cut through. He pushed past them, pulling Finn off me. “Get out, both of you,” he growled at Clara and Finn. They glared but left, muttering curses.

“Thanks, Jett,” I said, my heart still racing.

He smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile. “No problem, Layla.” His eyes slid over my body, lingering on my chest. He stepped into the storage room, closing the door behind him. His grin was nasty, making my skin crawl. “You’re doing good work,” he said, his voice too smooth, too close.

I froze, my stomach twisting. Something was very wrong.