Sasha
I’m curled up on the enormous sectional sofa in the living room, a textbook on sociological theory open in my lap. For the first time in three days, the house feels almost normal. Peaceful, even.
Maya is humming in the kitchen, the scent of baking bread wafting through the ground floor. Liam is sitting across from me, cleaning a collection of what look like antique knives with a soft cloth, his movements precise and focused. Even the quiet presence of Ben and Marco, reading on the far side of the room, feels companionable.
Owen is gone. He left before I woke up, a dark mood radiating from him that I felt even through my bedroom door. The house breathed a collective sigh of relief the moment his car drove away.
“How’s the studying going?” Liam asks, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. He doesn’t look up from his work.
“It’s going.” I shift, trying to find a comfortable position. “It would be easier if I understood half the words in this chapter.”
He chuckles. “Need a human dictionary?”
“I think I need a whole new brain.”
He finally looks up, a kind smile on his face. “You’re smart, Sasha. You’ll get it.”
His praise feels warm and genuine, a stark contrast to the icy contempt I receive from Owen. Here, in this bubble of quiet domesticity, it’s easy to pretend that Owen is just a bad dream. It’s easy to ignore the way they all treat me like I’m a priceless vase on the edge of a table, about to shatter.
A low growl cuts through the afternoon quiet. It’s not an animal. It’s the sound of a high performance engine, slowing as it approaches the house.
Liam stiffens. The rag in his hand stops moving. The knife he holds glints under the lamp light. Across the room, Ben and Marco close their books in perfect unison.
I sit up a little straighter. “Expecting someone?”
Before Liam can answer, the front door opens. It doesn’t creak. It’s a solid, confident sound. And no one knocks.
The click of heels on the polished hardwood is sharp and expensive. Each step is a declaration.
A woman appears in the arched doorway of the living room. She is breathtaking. Long, silver blonde hair cascades over the shoulders of a cream colored coat that probably cost more than my entire tuition. Her face is a perfect, symmetrical work of art, with high cheekbones and full lips painted a deep, dangerous red. Her eyes, the color of a summer sky, sweep the room with an air of regal boredom.
She owns this space. She knows it. We know it.
“Liam,” she says. Her voice is like honey laced with shards of glass. “Still playing with your toys, I see.”
Liam places the knife carefully on the coffee table and stands. He’s not smiling. “Seraphina. We weren’t expecting you.”
“A girl likes to be spontaneous,” she purrs, gliding into the room. She sheds her coat, draping it over a chair like it’s a worthless rag. Underneath, she’s wearing a black dress so perfectly tailored it looks sewn onto her skin. The air, which was warm and full of the smell of Maya’s baking, now smells like expensive perfume and disdain.
Her gaze drifts past Ben and Marco, dismissing them, and lands on me.
Her perfectly arched eyebrows lift a fraction of an inch. The blue eyes narrow, cataloging my worn jeans, my faded university sweatshirt, my textbook. The examination is swift, brutal, and utterly demeaning.
“Well, what is this?” she asks, not looking away from me. The question is directed at Liam, but her eyes are stripping me bare. “Did you finally get a cleaning service? I told Owen this place was getting dusty.”
My face flames. The insult is so casual, so effortless, it takes my breath away. I feel Liam take a half step forward, a protective instinct.
“Seraphina,” he says, his voice tight. “This is Sasha. She’s our new housemate.”
Her eyes widen in mock surprise. She brings a hand, tipped with immaculate red nails, to her chest. “Housemate? Oh, you’re joking.” She laughs, a sound with no warmth in it. “How quaint. I didn’t realize we were running a charity now. Where did you find it?”
It. She calls me ‘it’.
I clutch my textbook, the corners digging into my palms. I should say something. I should stand up for myself. But my throat is tight, my tongue a lead weight in my mouth. I’ve dealt with mean girls before, but this is a different species of cruelty. This is practiced, aristocratic venom.
“She’s a student at the university,” Maya says, appearing from the kitchen. She wipes her hands on her apron, her usual warmth replaced by a tense, formal politeness. “It’s nice to see you, Seraphina.”
“Maya,” Seraphina acknowledges with a nod that is more of an insult than a greeting. Her focus returns to me. “A student. So it’s clever, is it? Can it fetch?”
“That’s enough,” Liam says. The words are quiet, but they carry a weight that makes Seraphina finally turn to look at him fully.
She smiles, a slow, predatory curving of her lips. “Protective, Liam? Don’t tell me you’ve developed a fondness for strays. It’s unbecoming.”
Just then, the front door opens again. This time, I know who it is before I see him. The energy in the room shifts, coils, focuses on the doorway.
Owen walks in. He stops short when he sees the scene. His eyes go from Liam’s rigid stance, to Maya’s worried face, to Seraphina’s triumphant smirk, and then, finally, they land on me. I’m still sitting on the couch, feeling like a bug under a microscope.
The cold hatred I’m used to seeing in his face is there, but it’s different now. It’s sharper, hotter. It’s frantic. Like a fire burning so hot it freezes everything around it. He looks trapped.
“Owen, darling!” Seraphina’s entire demeanor changes. The cruelty melts away, replaced by a dazzling smile. She closes the distance between them in three fluid steps and wraps her arms around his neck.
He doesn’t hug her back. His body is a block of solid ice. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.
“I missed you,” she murmurs, loud enough for all of us to hear. She presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing.
His gray eyes are still locked on me. He looks like he’s in agony.
She pulls back slightly, her hands still linked behind his neck. She follows his gaze to me. Her smile thins. “We were just getting acquainted with your new… pet.”
Something dangerous flickers in Owen’s eyes. A sound rumbles in his chest, so low I almost don’t hear it. It’s a growl. A real, animalistic growl.
Seraphina hears it too. Her smile falters for a barest second before she recovers, running a hand down his chest in a possessive gesture. “You’re tense. Has it been bothering you? Don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll help you take out the trash.”
Her eyes never leave mine as she says it.
My humiliation finally burns through my shock, replaced by a spark of anger. I close my textbook with a soft thud and place it on the cushion beside me. Slowly, I stand up. My legs are a little shaky, but I lock my knees.
All eyes in the room turn to me. Seraphina looks amused. Owen looks horrified.
I meet her gaze directly. “My name is Sasha.” My voice is quiet, but it doesn’t tremble. “And I’m not a stray, or a pet, or the trash. I live here.”
The silence that follows is absolute. I can feel the shock from Liam and Maya. I can see the flicker of something unreadable, maybe respect, from Ben and Marco.
Seraphina’s amusement evaporates. Her beautiful face hardens into a mask of pure fury. The sky blue of her eyes turns stormy.
“It speaks,” she says, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “How bold. Owen, you really must learn to train your things better.”
She turns her glare on Owen, expecting him to assert his authority, to put me in my place. But he says nothing. He just stares at me, his face a war of emotions I can’t begin to decipher. His silence is his answer, and it’s not the one she wanted.
Her lips curl into a sneer. “Fine. If you won’t handle your little human problem, I will.”
She detaches herself from Owen and takes a step toward me. Liam moves instantly, placing himself between us.
“That’s not a good idea, Seraphina,” he says, his voice a low warning.
She laughs, a sharp, ugly sound. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you could stop me. None of you.” She looks around the room, at the tense, powerful men standing guard. Her gaze dismisses them all. “I am to be the Luna of this pack. This is my house. And I will not have it infested with vermin.”
Luna. The word hangs in the air, foreign and heavy. I don’t know what it means, but I understand the implication. She’s the intended queen. I’m the peasant who tracked mud on the castle floors.
“I need a drink,” she announces, her mood shifting again as she turns away from the confrontation. She sweeps past all of us, heading for what I now see is a fully stocked bar in the corner of the room. “Owen, darling, come talk to me. We have so much to discuss. Plans to make.”
Owen doesn’t move for a long moment. He gives me one last, desperate look. A look that says a thousand things I don’t understand. Then, with a visible effort that seems to cost him everything, he turns his back on me and follows her.
I’m left standing in the middle of the living room, the target of a war I didn’t know I was a part of. Liam lets out a breath he seems to have been holding since Seraphina walked in.
“Don’t listen to her, Sasha,” Maya says softly, coming to my side. “Her bite is much worse than her bark.”
“No,” I whisper, watching Seraphina hand Owen a glass, her fingers brushing his. “I think her bark is just the beginning.”
