Rise Of The Silver Wolf

**Ashley's POV**

Where the fuck is that low-life bitch? A voice growled from the dining room, sharp and mean, cutting through the air like a knife. I was in the kitchen, trying to steady myself, gripping the edges of a big wooden tray loaded with steaming plates of food. My hands were shaking, and I hated it-hated how their words pierced straight through my chest, making my heart ache like it was bruised. Laughter followed, loud and cruel, echoing off the walls as I forced my feet to move, carrying the tray toward the dining room.

I stepped into the room, keeping my head down, eyes glued to the floor. The plates clinked softly as I set them in front of the people sitting around the huge dining table, their voices still buzzing with mockery. I didn't look at them. I couldn't. If I did, I'd see their smug faces, their eyes glinting with that same old disgust they always had specially for me. I turned on my heel, quick as I could, and headed back to the kitchen to grab the rest of the dishes.

My name's Ashley, and I'm eighteen-well, almost. Two days from now, I'll hit that milestone, but it's not like anyone's gonna throw me a party or anything. My parents died when I was just a kid, too young to even remember their faces. Alpha Rodrigue and his mate, Luna Aurora, took me in. Not as family, no way, but they gave me a roof over my head, a corner to sleep in. In return, I serve the pack. I cook, I clean, I fetch, I carry. I used to be okay with it-grateful, even. It was better than being out on the streets, right? But then Adrian took over.

Adrian, the new alpha, is a whole different kind of problem. He's not just the leader now; he's a thorn in my side, a constant, exhausting pain in my ass. He's got these two big roles-alpha of the pack and the guy who never misses a chance to make my life hell. Nobody dares talk back to him. Nobody. Not even me, though I'm not scared of him like the others. He knows it, too, and that's why he's always gunning for me, trying to grind me down, humiliate me every chance he gets. And his girlfriend, Katrina? She's the worst. A walking, talking nightmare with a smile that could curdle milk.

Speak of the devil-Katrina sauntered into the kitchen just as I scooped up the last of the dishes. Her perfume hit me first, too sweet, like she bathed in sugar syrup. I kept my head down, clutching the plates, and brushed past her before she could start gloating about whatever new way she'd found to make me feel small.

"Moon goddess, does she ever do anything right?" someone barked from the dining room as I got closer. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to roll my eyes so hard