Wolfless she wolf

Moonridge Village glowed under the full moon, silver light spilling over rooftops and frosted grass.

For Isabella, though, the night felt empty.

This was supposed to be her night—her eighteenth birthday, the moment her wolf would awaken.

Everyone said you felt the Moon Goddess’s call, heard the wild beat of a second heart inside you. Instead, Isabella just stood there, cold wind tugging at her hair, feeling nothing but her own quiet breath.

No howl. No magic. Nothing.

Then came her stepmother’s voice, slicing through the thin hope she had left. “Still nothing?” Lady Verona leaned against the doorway, arms folded tight. “Pathetic. Even the Moon Goddess doesn’t want you.”

Isabella turned away, blinking fast. “Maybe it’s late. Sometimes wolves awaken at dawn,” she said, but her voice shook.

Verona laughed, sharp and bitter. “Dream on, you useless thing. Eighteen years, and you can’t even shift. You’re just a burden here.”

Behind Verona, her daughters—identical twins with perfect hair and matching sneers—watched Isabella’s face crumble. One of them smirked. “She thought the Goddess would pick her. As if the Moon cares about some orphan.”

Their laughter stung worse than the cold. Isabella had spent her whole life in this house, scrubbing floors, hauling water, stitching dresses for girls who loved to remind her she didn’t belong. Her father died when she was small. Her mother? All Isabella remembered was a soft lullaby—something about wolves dancing under the moon.

But she was the only one with no wolf.

Late that night, when the house finally went quiet, Isabella slipped outside. Grass crunched under her bare feet. She tipped her face up to the moon and whispered, “Please, Goddess. Let me belong. Even if I’m weak—just give me my wolf.”

The wind answered, soft and cold, but nothing changed. No voice, no rush of power. Just silence.

She cried quietly, not knowing the Moon Goddess was watching. Not knowing her story wasn’t meant to follow the old path. Something much bigger waited for her.

Dawn came. No miracle.

Lady Verona met her in the kitchen, already scowling. “Pack your things,” she snapped.

Isabella stared. “Pack? But—”

“I said pack!” Verona slammed a pot down. “Luna Clara of Silver Crest needs a maid. I recommended you.”

The words hit Isabella like a slap. “You’re sending me away?”

Verona’s mouth twisted. “You should be grateful. At least you’ll eat. Here, you’re just an embarrassment. Maybe they’ll find some use for a wolfless girl.”

Isabella wanted to argue, but what was the point? She had no wolf, no power, no place here. She dropped her eyes and whispered, “Yes, Stepmother.”

By noon, a carriage waited outside. Verona never bothered to say goodbye. Only the driver—a silent, gray-haired man—helped her in.

As the wheels rolled away from the house that never felt like home, Isabella looked back once. She thought she’d feel free. All she felt was hollow.

The trip to Silver Crest dragged on.

Fields gave way to deep forest, then to wide stone gates marked with a silver wolf and crescent moon. Sunlight flashed off the iron as the gates swung open.

The driver stopped, nodded, and Isabella climbed out, clutching her little bundle of clothes.

Her faded dress and muddy boots made her seem even smaller next to the mansion rising up ahead.

The Alpha’s Mansion was something out of a dream—silverstone walls, grand arches, flags snapping in the breeze. Servants hurried past, and somewhere nearby, warriors shouted and trained.

A woman’s voice called down from the marble stairs.

“Are you the new maid?”

Isabella looked up. A tall woman with silver hair was coming down the steps. She carried herself with gentle authority, power in every movement, but none of Verona’s cruelty. Isabella knew who she was at once.

“Yes, Luna Clara,” Isabella managed, bowing.

Clara smiled, eyes kind and steady.

“You must be Isabella. I’ve heard about you.” She saw Isabella’s shaking hands and the way she stared at the ground. “You look exhausted, dear. Come in. Rest first. We’ll talk about work later.”

That little bit of kindness almost undid Isabella. Nobody had spoken to her softly in years. She followed Luna Clara inside, barely whispering, “Thank you, my lady.”

Inside the mansion, everything sparkled. The floors shone, the chandeliers looked like someone had bottled up starlight, and portraits of the Alpha’s bloodline watched from every wall. Isabella couldn’t help but stare.

“That’s my son,” Clara said quietly, pointing to the largest portrait. “Alpha Logan.”

Isabella dropped her gaze right away. She’d heard plenty about him—everyone had. The cursed Alpha of the Silver Crest Pack. People said the Moon Goddess herself doomed him: no heirs, no matter how many healers or priests his mother begged for help. The curse just stuck.

Some folks said the Alpha changed after that. Grew cold, maybe even cruel. Others whispered his wolf had just… gone quiet. Like he wasn’t even a real shifter anymore.

Isabella swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve… heard of him.”

Clara nodded, sadness in her eyes. “Everyone has. But listen, Isabella—he wasn’t born a monster. Pain can twist even the strongest hearts. Treat him with respect. He won’t hurt you if you do.”

“Yes, Luna,” Isabella murmured.

The days slipped by quietly after that.

Isabella kept busy—cleaning endless halls, tending the gardens, serving Luna Clara at every meal. Luna Clara treated her kindly, even asked about her past sometimes, but Isabella always dodged the question. Too much pain there.

The other maids weren’t so nice. They gossiped behind her back, gave her extra chores, and sneered as she walked past.

“She thinks being Luna Clara’s favorite will save her,” one spat.

“She’s wolfless. The Alpha doesn’t even notice people like her,” another hissed.

Isabella kept her head down and said nothing. She’d learned the hard way—talking back only made things worse.

Then one night, everything changed.

The full moon poured silver over the mansion.

Isabella finished her chores and was scrubbing the last of the dishes when a strange, sweet scent filled the kitchen—roses and honey, rich and dizzying.

She swayed, blinking. “What is that smell…?”

A senior maid appeared, her smile too sweet to be real.

“You worked hard tonight, Isabella. Drink this—Luna Clara says you deserve a rest.”

She handed Isabella a small cup of steaming tea. Isabella hesitated, but the woman just kept smiling.

“Th-thank you,” Isabella mumbled, and took a sip.

Her vision blurred almost instantly. The cup tumbled from her hands. Arms caught her, dragged her, voices hissed in her ear—“Quickly, before he comes back…”

Then darkness.

When Alpha Logan returned and flicked on the light, he found Isabella sprawled half-naked across his bed.

He scowled, his wolf growling low in his chest.

“She must be out of her mind if she thinks she can seduce me and walk away. I should teach her a lesson,” he muttered, tearing at her gown and pulling off her underwear.

He took her roughly, muscles straining, his anger spilling over. “Fuck you,” he spat, even as she lay unconscious.

When Isabella finally woke, everything was different.

She was in a huge bed draped in black silk, the scent of pine and smoke thick around her. Her head throbbed. Her whole body felt heavy.

Where am I?

A deep, guttural growl stopped her cold.

A man stepped from the shadows—tall, broad-shouldered, gray eyes burning with barely contained rage. The same face from the portrait, only harder, sharper.

“What are you doing in my room?” he thundered.

“I—I don’t know,” Isabella stammered, trembling. “Please, I swear, I didn’t—”

She looked down and realized she was naked.

“Did you do something to me?” she asked, her voice shaking.

He glared. “Are you playing games? I found you in my bed, girl. Explain yourself.” He sneered. “Did you think you could offer yourself as a gift? Spread your legs and get away with it?”

Tears stung her eyes. “Someone must have brought me here. Please, I don’t remember—”

Before she could finish, his wolf growled again—louder, more urgent. But something shifted in his eyes. For an instant, they flashed silver.

He staggered, clutched his chest. “No… this can’t be.”

Isabella’s heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t understand what was happening, but the air between them felt electric—wild, ancient, dangerous. Something neither of them could name pulled them together.

And deep inside Logan, where his wolf had been silent for years, a howl finally broke free.

" What has she done to me.?" He got more frustrated. Everything seems to play wrong before him. His heart beat in surprise.

Alpha Logan sat on his bed, his eyes sparking like fire. Whereas, Isabella had filled with much thought while leaving.