Chapter 1 Drake And I

For a long time in my life, I have managed to be a better version of myself. To compensate those whom I’ve owed to. To retrieve what I’ve lost.

I’m Zoe Ernest, a plain she-wolf, residing in the Red Moon pack with my mother.

My mother is filled with excitement for my upcoming eighteenth birthday, as Drake and I have been in a relationship for nearly a year. Despite the widespread belief that we are a couple, many individuals hold doubts about the viability of our bond. Some disdainfully look upon me, while others reveal their jealousy. From their perspective, my mother and I, as newcomers to this pack for less than two years, seem ill-suited to ascend to Drake's elevated status. Indeed, he is the object of affection for every young woman in this pack, possessing a robust physique, a strikingly handsome visage, and a pair of deep, expressive, hazel eyes that can enthrall any lady.

Beyond his striking appearance, Drake's esteemed lineage sets him apart. He is the only son of Beta Morgan, ranking among the most powerful young wolves in our pack, second only to Marvin - the alpha Joan's sole heir. Not only do peers regard Drake with admiration, but elders in the pack also praise his genteel demeanor and courteous conduct - or, at least, that is the persona he presents. However, I alone know his true nature.

Drake is a devil veiled in an angel's guise. When my mother and I first moved here two years ago, he was the only one in this pack who didn't discriminate against me, or at least, that's how he appeared. When that clique of popular kids at school locked me in the restroom, it was Drake who rescued me from despair. The moment he burst into the girls' bathroom and smashed open the stall door, I fell in love with him. He became my beacon of light in the darkness, my lifeline when I was sinking into the quagmire. Three months later, when he invited me to a party, my hands trembled nervously; six months later, when he whispered those three magical words of love into my ear, I was well and truly surprised, and tears of excitement streamed down my cheeks. Could there be anything more wondrous than this?

On the night we confirmed our relationship, he invited me to his house. His parents were at the packhouse that evening, dealing with a boundary dispute involving a neighboring pack. We prepared two burgers for dinner, and after the meal, we settled on the sofa to watch a movie. The contents of the film hardly left an impression on me; all I remember is Drake's hand incessantly caressing the inside of my thigh. He asked me to spend the night, and I agreed. It was to be my first night with him, though it turned out slightly different from what I had envisioned. I had daydreamed countless times about being entwined with him in the library or losing ourselves in each other's embrace at a party, but never had I imagined such a scene.

He led me to his room, a typical teenage boy's sanctuary. The air was tainted with an unpleasant mix of cigarette smoke and cologne. Clothes and socks lay strewn on the bed and chair, untouched by cleanliness. The ashtray on the bedside table was brimming with cigarette butts, and the walls were adorned with posters of nude models.

As I walked through the door, an uncomfortable feeling surged within me. I couldn't discern whether his invitation to spend the night was a spontaneous gesture or a premeditated plan. Yet, deep in my heart, I hoped he would have at least taken the effort to tidy up the room or show some small signs of caring about our date. Swiftly, I pushed aside this unease, attempting to cast it from my mind. However, the experience did not unfold as beautifully as I had envisioned. With closed eyes, I tried to seek the  sensations depicted in erotic movies and novels, but unfortunately, I felt nothing of the sort. It seemed as if I was merely clumsily complying with his desires. Nevertheless, when he asked me how I felt afterward, I lied. At that moment, my love for him was so profound that I was willing to do anything for him, regardless of the cost.

During the first three months of our relationship, everything seemed sweet, except for his occasional displays of excessive possessiveness. He forbade me from interacting with any other guys, and whenever he saw me greet another male, he would erupt in anger. Every weekend, he would inspect my phone, making sure there were no male contacts before letting me go. I protested more than once, but he claimed he did all this out of immense love for me, wanting me to belong to him alone. He was a year older than me, which meant he had already turned eighteen when we started dating. He insisted that we were destined mates, a belief I never doubted.

Six months into our relationship, I overheard some rumors from a few girls in class about his affairs. It was said he had inappropriate relationships with several Omegas. When I confronted him with these rumors, he vehemently denied them, accusing me of being influenced by their ill intentions and becoming paranoid. From then on, his control over me tightened. Every day after school, he would escort me home, demanding a detailed account of my day, whom I spoke to, and what I did. If I told the truth that I did talk to someone, he would yell at me, berating me for being ungrateful and daring to communicate with anyone other than him. If I lied, he would explode in fury, calling me a liar. If I dared to mention breaking up for any reason, he would beat me, and afterward, he would kneel before me, crying and apologizing, making promises he never fulfilled.

After each time I was struck, regardless of the scorching heat, I would wear high-necked clothing and a scarf around my neck to conceal the bruises. People viewed me as a freak, but I paid them no mind. I never spoke to anyone about what Drake did to me. Back then, I mistook all he did for love.

It wasn't until last week when I discovered a tiny listening device inside the pendant of the necklace he had given me and a tracking device he had installed on my phone, that my illusions were shattered completely. I left the necklace and phone at home, trailing him to discover his other girlfriends. In the late hours of the night, I hid under my covers, silently shedding tears, and during the day, I put on a facade of a smiling face in front of him and others. I lack the courage to directly expose his true nature, knowing that no one would support me. My mother wouldn't; she views my relationship with Drake as crucial, as she deemed becoming the mother-in-law of the beta as her only way to escape her miserable fate. My friends wouldn't either, as I distanced myself from them during my time with Drake. I was truly foolish.

Tomorrow's eighteenth birthday is my only chance. If Drake and I aren't mates, I can naturally break up with him without needing any explanation. But if, unfortunately, Drake and I are meant to be together, then the moon goddess is blind, and I will never forgive her for it!