The Beta’s Ugly Daughter

Chapter 9

Laila's revelation had turned me into a walking time bomb, and I was three days away from detonating.

Every reflection in windows and mirrors now showed me the truth—not just plain features, but something actively crafted to repel. Magic woven into every flaw, every imperfection magnified with supernatural malice.

The knowledge sat in my chest like acid, eating me alive from the inside out. I needed to tell someone before I lost my goddamn mind.

"Hand me that bowl," Mother's voice cut through the kitchen like a blade.

I'd been standing motionless by the counter, lost in spiraling thoughts about curses and magical compulsion. My hands shook as I passed her the ceramic bowl.

"Mom," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "Do you know any old stories about curses? Family magic, things passed down through generations?"

Her knife never paused its mechanical slicing. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"The archive records mention generational curses. I wondered if you'd heard similar stories."

The steady thunk of her knife against the cutting board was the only sound for several heartbeats. Then she spoke without looking up.

"The only curse in this house is you."

The words hit like a physical blow. Flat, matter-of-fact, delivered like she was commenting on the weather.

"Excuse me?" The question tore from my throat.

"You heard me." Her blade never slowed. "Do you need anything else, or can I finish this in peace?"

"I need—" The words stuck in my throat. "I need you to explain what you mean."

"I mean exactly what I said." She finally looked up, her ice-blue eyes holding no warmth, no recognition of having just destroyed her daughter. "You've been nothing but a burden since the day you were born. A genetic mistake that's haunted this family for eighteen years."

"A mistake?" Heat flooded my face. "I'm your daughter!"

"Are you?" Her smile was as sharp as her knife. "Because sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve such a pathetic creature calling me mother."

I staggered backward, my vision blurring with tears of rage. "You're a monster."

"I'm a mother who got dealt a losing hand." She picked up her knife again, dismissing me completely. "Now get out of my sight before I say something we'll both regret."

I fled before the sobs could start, her words chasing me down the hallway like hunting hounds. In my room, I collapsed on my narrow bed, gasping for air between the tears.

My own mother. My own fucking mother had just confirmed I was cursed without even knowing about Laila's revelation.

A soft knock at my door made me scrub frantically at my eyes.

"Gail?" Mira's voice carried genuine concern. "Are you in there?"

"Come in," I managed, trying to sound normal.

She entered carrying an armload of clean towels, her dark hair gleaming in the afternoon light. "I was hoping you'd help me with the laundry."

I followed her to the laundry room on unsteady legs, grateful for something to do with my hands. We worked in silence for several minutes before she spoke.

"You look like hell," she said bluntly. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Don’t lie to me." She dropped a towel and turned to face me fully. "Your eyes are red, your hands are shaking, and you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine."

"Try again." Her voice carried the steel I'd seen her use on pack elders. "And this time, tell the truth."

I stared at her, seeing not the gentle girl who'd protected me, but the future Luna who commanded respect from wolves twice her age.

"Mother and I had words," I said carefully.

"What kind of words?"

"The kind that makes you question whether you should exist."

Mira's expression darkened. "What did she say?"

"That I'm the only curse in this house. That I'm a genetic mistake she's had to make excuses for. That every day I breathe is a reminder of her failure." The words tumbled out like poison I needed to expel.

"That absolute bitch of mother." The profanity exploded from Mira's lips with shocking vehemence.

I stared at her in shock. I'd never heard her use language like that.

"She said that to you?" Mira's voice rose with each word. "Her own daughter?"

"It's nothing I haven't heard before—"

"It's everything!" She grabbed my shoulders, her grip firm enough to leave marks. "It's psychological abuse, Gail! It's systematic destruction of a child's self-worth!"

"Mira—"

"No!" Her eyes blazed with fury I'd never seen before. "I'm done pretending this is normal! I'm done watching them destroy you piece by piece while everyone stands around and lets it happen!"

"You can't—"

"I can and I will." She released me, beginning to pace the small room like a caged predator. "I have influence in this pack. I'm going to use it."

"Please don't." Panic clawed at my chest. "You'll only make it worse."

"Worse?" She whirled to face me. "How could it possibly be worse than your own mother calling you a curse?"

Before I could answer, she continued, her voice dropping to something dangerous.

"Speaking of things getting worse—Wyatt mentioned something weird yesterday. Said he saw a girl in the woods during the last blood moon. Red hair, glowing like fire. He thought maybe she was from a visiting pack, but no one's claimed her."

My hands stilled on the towel I was holding. Blood rushed in my ears. "He sounded... different when he talked about her," Mira said, seemingly unaware of my reaction.

"Like he couldn't stop thinking about it. I've never heard him talk about another girl that way." She shrugged, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders. "It's probably nothing. Just some rogue passing through our territory."

"Probably," I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Part of me wanted to confess everything right then, that I was the red-haired girl Wyatt couldn't stop thinking about.

That I was cursed, that every kind word anyone had ever spoken to me was a battle against supernatural revulsion, that none of this was simple or straightforward or fair.

But the words stuck in my throat like stones.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Mira asked, finishing the last towel and turning to face me fully. "I know we're not... I mean, I know I'm not always around, but I care about you. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course," I said, nodding quickly. "And yes, I'd tell you." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. I wanted to tell her, I just didn't know how.

Mira smiled, seeming satisfied with my answer, and gathered her stack of folded towels. "I should get these put away. Oh, and Gail? Don't let them break you. You're worth more than they'll ever understand."

Then she was gone, leaving me alone with the devastating weight of my secrets and the growing certainty that my time was running out.