The air in the pack house kitchen was thick with the scent of strawberry buttercream, sweet and cloying, a stark contrast to the bitterness coiling in Daisy's stomach. Her hands, calloused from endless chores, moved rhythmically, piping delicate sugar flowers onto the towering six-tiered cake, a monument to her twin sister Dahlia's upcoming birthday. It felt less like a celebration and more like a cruel joke.

Samuel, her only friend and fellow Omega, sighed beside her, attempting to mix icing with the grace of a clumsy bear. “You’re great at everything, Daisy,” he murmured, his voice a balm against the usual barbs. Daisy offered a weak smile, her thoughts drifting to tomorrow, her own eighteenth birthday, and the desperate hope of finally meeting her mate and her wolf. Would they be her ticket out of this hell?

As the last streaks of sunset bled across the sky, painting the kitchen in hues of orange and purple, Daisy made her way home, the quiet of the night a temporary respite. But the rustle of leaves behind her, the familiar tightening in her chest, warned her that even this brief peace was an illusion. Panic surged. They were here.