Penelope's POV
Run! Penelope, run!
My brain screamed.
The sparse streetlights stood crookedly beside the bushes, their dim glow barely illuminating a few corners. I sprinted down this deserted path like a gazelle hunted by a cheetah, pouring every ounce of strength into escaping a fatal strike.
Damn it! If only I had noticed sooner.
My sense of smell is sharper than most people's, but nowhere near as keen as a werewolf with a wolf. If only I had a wolf—then I would have caught that scent much earlier. Then I could have avoided Scott altogether…
But I don't. So now, I'm forced to flee like a stray dog.
My legs moved frantically, my lungs burning from lack of oxygen, threatening to explode. I gasped for air, mouth wide open, desperate to suck in more.
So tired… So tired…
But I couldn't stop.
Behind me, the rustling in the bushes never ceased. I knew Scott was in there, less than a hundred meters away. If I stopped now, he'd devour me alive.
Home was still two hundred meters away.
I whipped around the corner, and in the distance, I saw the warm glow of lights from the villa ahead. My heart sank.
That was my house. Someone was home.
They knew Scott and I were nearby. Yet no one came to help me.
A bitter sting rose in my nose.
I bit down hard on my lower lip. No, Penelope. Now's not the time to cry.
The sound behind me grew closer, so near that Scott's panting seemed to brush against my ear. My scalp prickled with terror, and I could only charge forward blindly.
Then—thud!
A rock on the roadside tripped me, sending me crashing forward with the full force of momentum.
I'm dead.
Before I hit the ground, I squeezed my eyes shut. The only thought in my mind wasn't to brace for impact—it was a desperate hope that maybe I'd knock myself out. If Scott was going to catch me, unconsciousness would be the best possible outcome.
"Ah!"
A sharp pain shot through my forehead as I collapsed onto the ground. A pained groan escaped me before I could stop it. Slowly, I pried my eyes open—but Scott was nowhere in sight.
How? No one was here. Had Scott not come after all?
I sniffed the air. Aside from the metallic tang of my own blood, there was a faint trace of sweat.
Scott had been here. But for some reason, he was gone now.
Still, I wasn't taking any chances. Scrambling up, I half-stumbled, half-crawled toward home.
Normally, I avoided the front door to minimize contact with my family. I always slipped in through the back and went straight to the attic—my room. But today, for some reason, I changed my mind. I wanted to walk through the front door.
Before I even turned the knob, laughter spilled out from inside. My breath hitched, and that familiar sting returned to my nose.
Just once… Just once, love me too.
Swallowing hard, I twisted the handle and stepped in. At the dining table, my mother, Sophia Woods, and my stepsister, Emma Wood, were gathered, chatting and laughing over dinner.
The moment they saw me, everyone fell silent. Then, after three seconds, they all looked away and resumed their conversation as if I had never appeared.
I stood frozen, staring at my mother. Tears welled up instantly.
No, Penelope. Don't cry. No one here pities weakness. But despite my silent command, the tears spilled over anyway.
Head bowed, I rushed to my room and slammed the door shut, locking myself inside like I was escaping zombies in the apocalypse. My "room" was barely 50 square feet—so small it couldn't even fit a proper wardrobe.
Compared to my stepbrother and stepsister, my mother treated them more like her real children.
No one knew that my mother used to have brown hair, just like me. But after joining the Woods family, she dyed it blonde—and no one ever saw her natural color again.
No one knew how she used to cradle me in her hands, how she'd gently stroke my hair and call me her little treasure. But after my father died, everything changed.
If I had never known warmth, maybe I could endure the cold…
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through my palm. Looking down, I realized my hands and knees were scraped raw, tiny gravel embedded in the wounds, streaks of blood seeping out.
Must've happened when I fell.
"Penelope."
At the sound of my name, I hastily scrubbed my face and opened the door.
"Dad."
The towering figure outside was my stepfather, Charles Woods. Even in middle age, his golden hair remained thick, his ocean blue eyes holding depths I could never decipher. He took in my disheveled state without surprise—this was far from unusual—but as always, he didn't ask.
"I heard your school's prom is coming up." The prom he referred to was the high school graduation dance. "Tell them you're sick. I'll excuse you."
Yes, Dad. I kept my voice low, my head down, fighting to keep any tremble out of my words.
Never attend any parties. Never draw attention. That had been his mantra since I turned fourteen. As the only one in an Alpha family without a wolf, my existence was a disgrace.
He nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave. As I lifted my head, I caught Emma standing at the stairwell, smirking at me—until she noticed Dad looking. Instantly, her expression melted into the sweet, obedient daughter she always pretended to be.
"Dad." She looped her arm through his, voice sugary. "Since prom's coming up… I saw this gorgeous new Chanel dress. Can I have it?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Anything for my little girl."
"Thank you!" She kissed his cheek. "You're the best dad ever!"
My vision blurred. Before the tears could fall again, I shut the door.
It's fine, Penelope. You're used to this.
Ring-ring—Ring-ring—
My phone buzzed. I wiped my face roughly before answering.
"Hey, Mia…"
"Penelope! Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"It's— Wait, why do you sound weird? Were you crying? Did they hurt you again?"
"No, just… allergies."
"Oh. Well, Ryan just told me—Zayn's going to prom before he leaves!"
What? Did I hear that right? Zayn was going to prom?
"You mean…" I hesitated.
"Yes! Your crush, Zayn, is going! He doesn't know which college he's heading to yet, so he's coming! Penelope, this might be your last chance to see him!"
I almost said yes—until a sharp throb in my palm yanked me back to reality. My father. My family. They didn't want me seen in public.
"Sorry, Mia. I can't go."
"Penelope." Her voice dropped, the way it always did when she was dead serious. "That night isn't just prom. It's your birthday. Do you really want to spend your eighteenth alone in that attic? It's time to live your own life. If you're scared they'll find out, we'll be discreet. Okay?"
I stayed silent. She was right. I did deserve my own life. If I blended into the crowd, if I just stole one glance at Zayn from afar… maybe no one would notice.
"Okay, Mia. I'll go. I'll go in secret."
No one will find out.