Zendaya's POV
From the moment I stepped into Raven's claw pack, I was an outsider.
The whispers trailed behind me like shadows, their curious gaze cutting into my skin like tiny blades. I knew this mating wasn't going to be easy. Only a few accepted me, and most didn't bother hiding their disdain. I hadn't expected to feel like a ghost, unseen. Unwanted.
Still, I wasn't going to back down.
If they wouldn't accept me as their Luna, then I would prove myself worthy. I wasn't some delicate flower plucked from the Craven pack. I'd done my share of chores back home, scrubbing floors and cooking meals. I could earn my place here.
The scent of baked bread and simmering stew greeted me, a comforting reminder of home when Mum was alive. I rolled up my sleeves and stepped inside, ready to help.
But the moment I entered, silence fell.
The omegas and other pack members froze, hands pausing mid-task. Eyes flickered towards me. Then came the whispers, low but sharp.
"Why is she here?"
"She thinks she can just waltz in and become one of us?"
"She doesn't belong."
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, pretending not to hear. I reached for a knife to help with the vegetables. But my hand trembled. Before I could start, a firm grip closed around my wrist.
The head maid.
She was older, eyes sharp and expression unreadable— neither cruel nor unkind. Just duty-bound.
"You shouldn't be here, Luna," she said softly, but firmly. "Come with me."
My pride screamed at me to refuse, to stay. But I followed her in silence, Shame crawling up my spine like a second skin. As we exited the kitchen, another whisper struck deep.
"She hasn't been marked."
I wanted to scream—And whose fault is that?
Cassidy's lazy voice echoed at the back of my mind, It's yours.
Her presence flickered like a guilty conscience. And maybe she was right.
But I held my head high, even as humiliation clawed at my chest. I wouldn't let them see me as weak. I wasn't a fragile she-wolf.
Back in my room, the walls closed in like a cage. I paced, restless. Desperate for some air—freedom. If Damien was going to pretend I didn't exist. I'd at least explore my new prison on my terms.
As soon as the head maid left, I slipped out.
If I wasn't welcome, so be it. I would walk these streets anyway.
The street was bustling with pack members, chatting, bartering, laughing, but as I passed through, the air shifted. Conversation faltered. Eyes turned on me—some curious, most disapproving. Judgment clung to their gazes like fog.
My silver-blue hair fell freely down my back, caught the sunlight, and with it, I could feel their stare intensifying and more whispers.
"She doesn't look fit to be a Luna."
"Too odd, too different."
"Does she think she's perfect because she's mated to our Alpha?"
"She is not as beautiful as the late Luna."
Each word sliced deeper than I cared to admit.
I knew I was different. My hair, my eyes, my very presence—it all screamed outsider. It had always been like that. Even in the Craven pack, I was never treated as one of them. Here I was just a symbol of political alloance. A Luna without a mark. A mate without a bond.
I clenched my fist, willing to push myself forward and enjoy my walk.
Raven-claw pack was stunning , it stone pathways wove through elegant building structures and modern designers—nothing like the humble simplicity of Craven pack. It shouldn't have taken my breath.
A small cry stopped me. A little girl sat at the curb, tears standing in her cheeks. No mother in sight. I crouched beside her.
"Hey, little one," I said softly, brushing her hair back. "Where's your mummy?"
She hiccuped but didn't answr. I offered a gentle smile, petting her head in comfort. Then her mother appeared.
The woman rushed forward, yanking her daughter away from me like I was poison. Her eyes, wide with disgust, didn't even try to hide it.
As if my touch was something to be scrubbed off. Something inside me snapped.
I bolted. Past the market. Past the town square. Past the judging eyes, into the forest.
Branches whipped passed me, my feet pounded against the earth. My breath came ragged. The pressure in my chest tightened until I couldnt hold it anymore.
Damien's cold indifference.The pack's rejection. I couldn't take it anymore, and I let my wolf take over.
Bones cracked, skin stretched. Pain seared through my body and in seconds, I was on all fours. My silver—white wolf fur gleamed in the sunlight filtered through the trees. my sharp claws digging into the dirt as I took off.
I ran. The wind howled in my ears until my thoughts blurred into instinct. The weight in my lightened with every pounding stride.
Then I felt it.
A presence. Subtle at first, like a distant heartbeat. Then stronger. Closer. Watching.
I slowed, my ears twitching. The forest stilled my eyes scanned the shadows with my enhanced vision. Someone was out there—hidden beneath the trees like a predator cloaked in darkness.
But before I could pinpoint it. The presence disappeared. As if it had never been there at all. Made me think if I was imagining things.
A shiver rippled through my fur. I shifted back, my breath unsteady. Who had been watching me? And why didn't they show themselves?
Unease clung to me as I made my way back to the pack house. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe it was just a hunter.
I made a mental note to reach out to my father, not that we were on speaking terms, not since he gave me away like a bargaining chip. He seemed to be wrapped up with his new family, which doesn't include me. He hasn't tried to reach out, either.
The pack house was buzzing with low chattering, light flickered in the dining area. I stood on the porch, and I spotted Damien's car parked out front.
He was back.
My pulse quickened. I needed to talk to him. I wanted to understand why he was keeping his distance. Why hadn't he marked me?
I rushed upstairs to my room, eager to clean up before facing him. But the moment I stepped inside, something felt wrong.
The air was colder.The scent of the room felt disturbed. My gaze landed on the window—slightly open. I don't remember opening it.
My heart thundered as I crept closer, scanning the space. Then I saw it.
A single red note, placed neatly on my nightstand. I picked it up with trembling fingers and unfolded the paper.
The words were jagged, scrawled in black ink
"When the blood moon rises, and with it your fate, you can't hide what you are for long, not from us, we are coming for you—The true one."
At the bottom of the page was a smear of blood, still wet, and my breath caught. They weren't coming. They were already here.