The Beta’s Ugly Daughter

Chapter 11

"Look what crawled out of its hole this morning."

Mom's voice hit me the moment I stepped into the kitchen, sharp and cutting as always. She stood by the counter, already perfectly dressed and made up despite the early hour, her silver-blonde hair catching the morning light like a halo. The effect would have been angelic if not for the cruel twist of her lips.

"Good morning, Mom," I said quietly, moving toward the cabinet to get a mug for tea.

"Don't 'good morning' me with that face," she snapped. "Did you even look in a mirror before coming down here? Your hair is a disaster, and those clothes..." She made a disgusted sound. "You look like something the rogues dragged in."

I touched my hair self-consciously. I'd tried to tame it this morning, but the humidity had made it frizz at the edges. "I can go fix it-"

"Don't bother. Nothing's going to help at this point."

Dad sat at the breakfast table, reading pack reports and completely ignoring the exchange. When Garrett bounded downstairs a few minutes later, however, Dad's face lit up with genuine warmth.

"There's my boy," he said, setting down his papers. "Ready for advanced combat training today?"

"Absolutely," Garrett replied, grabbing an apple from the counter. "Marcus says I'm the best fighter in our age group."

"That's my son. Strong, capable, everything an Alpha's beta should be." The pride in Dad's voice was unmistakable. I'd never heard him use that tone when talking about me.

"I should get to the archives," I said, setting down my untouched mug of tea.

"Good idea," Mom said without looking up from her correspondence. "At least there you can be useful instead of just taking up space."

I left the house with her words echoing in my ears, but honestly, I was used to it. Mornings like this were normal. If anything, today had been relatively mild, no one had actually thrown anything at me. The archives felt like a sanctuary after the cold cruelty of home. I arrived early, as always, and had already been working for an hour when Wyatt walked in. He looked tired, his dark hair slightly mussed like he'd been running his hands through it.

"Rough night?" I asked, glancing up from the scroll I was cataloguing.

"Something like that." He dropped into the chair across from me, but instead of reaching for the documents we'd been reviewing, he just sat there, staring at nothing.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, "Have you ever met someone who completely changed how you see the world, but you barely know anything about them?"

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"There's this girl..." He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. "I keep thinking about her. It's ridiculous, I've only seen her a few times, always at night, and she never tells me anything real about herself. But when I'm with her, everything feels different. Clearer, somehow." Each word was like a knife twisting in my chest. He was talking about me, about Red, but he had no idea.

"She sounds mysterious," I managed.

"She is. And that should probably be a warning sign, right? But I can't stop thinking about what she said the last time I saw her. About being brave enough to change your circumstances instead of just running away from them."

I remembered that conversation perfectly. Every word, every look, every moment when I'd felt truly seen and understood.

"Maybe she's right," I said carefully. "Maybe you should be brave."

"That's just it, I don't know what being brave would look like in this situation. I'm supposed to marry Mira in two weeks. The whole pack is expecting it. But then there's this girl who makes me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Before I could respond, the archive door swung open. Garrett strutted in like he owned the place, his eyes scanning the shelves with lazy arrogance.

"Looking for something?" Wyatt asked, his tone polite but cool.

"Just browsing," Garrett said, though it was obvious he had no interest in the historical documents. His gaze landed on me, and his expression shifted to that familiar cruel smirk. "Didn't know they let trolls organize records now. What's next, putting goblins in charge of the treasury?" The words hit like they always did, but I'd learned long ago not to react. I kept my eyes on the scroll in front of me and continued working.

"That's enough," Wyatt said, his voice sharp.

Garrett blinked, clearly surprised. "Come on, it's just a joke-"

"Don't talk to her like that." Wyatt stood up, his posture tense and protective. "Ever."

"Wyatt, man, relax. It's just Gail. She's used to it."

"I don't care what she's used to." There was steel in Wyatt's voice now, an Alpha's authority that made even Garrett take a step back. "She's working here, doing important work for the pack. Show some respect."

Garrett's eyes darted between Wyatt and me, confusion and something that might have been fear flickering across his features. "Fine. Whatever. Didn't realize you were so... protective of the help."

"Get out," Wyatt said quietly.

Garrett left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him with finality. The archive fell silent except for the sound of my slightly shaking hands rustling through papers. I could feel Wyatt's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up. No one had ever defended me before. Not once in eighteen years had anyone stood up for me the way he just had.

"You don't have to put up with that," he said, settling back into his chair.

"It's fine," I whispered. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it right." Finally, I looked up at him. His silver-blue eyes were intense, almost angry, but not at me, at the situation, at my brother, and at the unfairness of it all.

"Thank you," I said, meaning it more than I'd ever meant anything.

He nodded once, then picked up his pen and returned to his work like nothing had happened. But everything feels different now. The air between us was charged with something new, something that made my chest tight and my hands unsteady.

That night, I couldn't bear the thought of going home to face whatever mood my family was in. Instead, I knocked on Mira's door, asking if I could stay over. She welcomed me with the same warmth she always showed, no questions asked.

But as she slept peacefully in the bed beside me, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the day. Wyatt's confusion about the mysterious red-haired girl. His protective anger when Garrett insulted me. The way he'd looked at me afterward, like he was seeing me for the first time.

He'd defended me. Actually stood up to my brother and made him leave. And he'd done it not because he had to, not because it was expected, but because he wanted to. Because he thought I deserved better treatment.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin. The warmth in my chest from his defense was almost overwhelming, but it was tangled up with guilt and fear. He was beginning to care about me, the real me, not just the magical version that appeared under blood moons. But I was still lying to him about everything that mattered.

What scared me more? That he might actually be falling for both versions of me, or that when he found out the truth, he'd realize he'd been a fool to care at all?