Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

I am so dead. This is it for me. Aina, how could you be so dumb?

Aina’s hands shook as she clutched the crumpled letter tighter against her chest. Her breath came uneven, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.

Travis is going to kill me. This is Travis’s future, his golden ticket, the thing he had been obsessing over for weeks, and I stole it.

Her mind raced. She wanted to return it, to shove it back into the bag and pretend she had never touched it. But she couldn’t.

Travis had always been a jerk to her, and over her dead body would she let him have his dream come true while she was forced to become a breeder, birthing over twenty fucking children. No way. Never.

At the mere thought of becoming a breeder, her mind flashed with the image of Alpha Silverwing’s disgusting smile.

Her spine shivered as she remembered the way he had called her "breeder" and the way her father had offered her up like livestock, as if she were nothing more than a transaction.

Her stomach twisted. Breeder. That’s all I am to them.

She rushed to her room in the dingiest part of the mansion, the section that hadn’t seen renovations since it was built. She pulled past her rusty old door, checked the hallway to see if anyone had followed her, then closed it quickly, pressing her back against the wood as though it could shield her from the world.

While Amilia and literally everyone else in the manor had gorgeous rooms personally designed to drip with luxury, Aina was not so lucky.

The only thing her room dripped in was piss and poverty.

It was a tiny, closet-sized space with a thin mattress stained by large yellow marks. The piss had never come from her, not once had she peed on the bed. Travis was the one responsible, deliberately peeing on it just to humiliate her. The smell never left, no matter how many times she scrubbed it clinged to the air.

Other than that foul fact, her room was clean. She may have been poor, but that didn’t mean she had to be filthy. A single rose sat near the window, its petals fragile and slowly withering. The window itself was always shut because of the stench from the dumpster outside.

"I can’t give it back," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling as she sat on the edge of the mattress, right above Travis’s dried piss.

At first, she couldn’t even look at the mattress when he started peeing on it years ago, but now she didn’t give a damn.

She sat on it without hesitation, used to it. "Aina, let’s think this through. I can take this letter and be Travis. We look similar. It’s just our hair, eyes, designation, body... brain that’s different. Other than that, we are exactly the same. I can be Travis Whitelock."

Her fingers tightened around the parchment, nails biting into the fibers. A wild plan began forming in her head, born of desperation not to become a breeder.

If she played this right, she could rid herself of her family, secure a proper place to stay, and never have to birth twenty children or die on the birthing bed.

She reached beneath her bed and pulled out a scrap of paper, flattening it against the floor. From her pocket she drew a pen she had stolen months ago from the kitchen. Her hand shook as she pressed the tip down, ink bleeding into the page.

I can do this. I have to do this.

Dear Moonside Academy

It is with great honor that I accept your invitation. I am humbled by the opportunity and will gladly attend the new academic year. I will arrive before the fifteenth day of the Wolf Moon, as instructed.

With gratitude,

Travis Whitelock

She stared at the letter, her breath uneven, her chest rising and falling as though the words themselves weighed her down.

It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. She folded it carefully, tucking it into the pocket of her worn jeans, the fabric frayed at the edges from years of use. Then she slid the original acceptance letter beneath her mattress, hiding it deep where Travis would never think to look.

Her chest tightened. This is insane. If anyone finds out, I’ll die. But if I don’t try, I’ll be worse than dead.

She stood, her legs trembling, and slipped out of her room. The house was quiet, probably because everyone was still in the dining hall plotting her downfall.

She moved quickly, her footsteps light, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pushed open the back door and stepped into the morning mist, the damp air clinging to her skin.

Keeping her head down, she left the pack house and made her way to the pack central, where the bustle of people filled the square. Some were in wolf form, others human, but all bore the mark of Whitelock origins. Vendors shouted over one another, selling meat, cloth, trinkets, and charms.

The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and roasted food, heavy enough to make her stomach churn.

Aina continued with her head lowered, hoping no one would notice her, but it was useless.

She was popular for all the wrong reasons, and the purple strands in her hair combined with her small figure, so unlike the average wolf shifter, made her stand out instantly. People always knew who she was.

As she walked, whispers followed her like shadows.

"There’s that little disgrace," a random woman spat, bumping her shoulder hard against Aina’s. Aina did not engage; she just kept walking with her head down.

"She has brought trouble from the moment she was born," another voice rang louder than the rest, dripping with venom.

"She is not one of us, and she never will be. Pack Whitelock does not have weaklings," spoke another, before a random man stepped in front of her. She slowly looked up, only to have him spit directly into her face. She flinched, wiping the spit away as rage burned in her chest, hot and suffocating, but she kept her head down and continued walking. She was used to this. She had lived with it her whole life. The people hated her because she was the daughter of the women who made the Luna they loved so much suffer.

She pushed forward, weaving through the crowd until she reached the mail station. A long line stretched out from the counter, wolves and shifters waiting with letters and parcels. Aina joined the line, her stomach twisting, her fingers brushing against the folded paper in her pocket.

She was almost calm when she heard the laughter.

"Well, well, look who it is."

No, not now. I already got spat at, and now I have to deal with three little devils. Aina groaned in her mind. She didn’t need to turn to know.

Three girls approached, their steps confident, their eyes gleaming with cruelty. They were Amilia’s closest friends in the pack. First was Clara, with her sharp jaw and sharper tongue. Liora, tall and smug, her hair braided with gold threads that glinted in the light. And Sera, the youngest and newest addition to the gang, the loudest of them all, always eager to prove herself.

"What are you doing here? I heard you’re going to be a breeder," Clara sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Are you sending a letter to grandmother? To come help you? Wait, that’s not possible, she’s dead and rotting."

Liora laughed as if Clara had said the funniest thing in the world, tossing her braid over her shoulder with exaggerated flair. "Or maybe she’s writing to the goddess, asking why she was cursed with those ugly eyes."

Sera stepped closer, her grin wide and cruel. "What’s in your pocket, Aina? A love letter? Or maybe instructions on how to spread your legs for Silverwing?"

Aina’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing, praying they would just leave.

"Oh, come on, don’t be shy," Clara taunted. She lunged forward, her hand quick, and snatched the folded paper from Aina’s pocket. "What’s this?"

"No!" Aina shouted, her voice breaking as panic flooded her chest. She reached out, desperate to grab it back.

Clara held the letter high, waving it in front of the others like a trophy. "Should we open it? Let’s see what the breeder is hiding."

Sera giggled, reaching for the paper. "Read it aloud! Let everyone hear!"

Aina’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst. She couldn’t let them open it. She couldn’t let them ruin everything. Without thinking, she shoved Clara hard, her hands slamming into the girl’s chest. Clara stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock, and the letter slipped from her fingers.

"You bitch!" Clara screamed, clutching her side.

Aina snatched the letter from the ground, her fingers trembling, and bolted. She ran through the crowd, her hair flying free behind her, struggling to keep her glasses from sliding off her face. Shouts followed her, ordering her to stop, but she didn’t stop. In fact, she ran faster. She pushed past vendors, dodged carts, her breath ragged, her chest burning. The only reason they hadn’t caught her yet was the sheer number of people in the market central, not her speed.

Behind her, Clara’s voice rang out, shrill and furious. "Get her! She hurt me!"

I have got to be the unluckiest person in the world! Aina thought, her mind screaming as her legs carried her forward.

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