The Exile Luna

The Bullies

Emma’s POV

They said Omegas were born to serve, to bow and to obey.

I used to believe them.

I used to believe a lot of things—like if I kept my head down, the world wouldn’t see me. Like silence was safety. Like if I worked twice as hard and smiled through pain, someone, anyone, would see my worth.

But I was wrong. Especially in Silvermint.

I tightened my grip on the mop as I scrubbed the floors of the school hallway, the scent of bleach clinging to my skin like shame. My knees throbbed from kneeling too long, and my back ached from bending at awkward angles.

A cold breeze swept in from the broken window nearby, and I shivered. My school uniform—threadbare and always too tight or too loose—offered little warmth.

Footsteps sounding louder.

I recognized the sound instantly. Light heels clacking against the tiles—fast, eager and arrogant.

Marla.

“Look who’s still cleaning like the pathetic little rat she is,” her voice rang out, laced with mockery.

I didn’t look up, I never did. Looking up invited more pain, more bruises and more laughter.

Behind her were her usual shadows—Leena, Dana, and Reed. All future warriors, all born into noble bloodlines. Alphas and Betas in the making.

Their destiny assured by their rank. Mine? Clean their mess, fetch their books, and try not to cry when they trip me in the lunch line.

“You missed a spot,” Marla said sweetly.

Before I could react, cold, sticky soup splashed across the floor—and onto my hair, shoulders, and neck. The plastic container hit the tiles with a wet slap.

Laughter erupted.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked fast, refusing to let them see. I had learned the hard way: tears were a show. And Omegas were entertainment.

“Say thank you, mutt,” Reed added, his tone was commanding.

I clenched my teeth. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Louder. Come on, earn your keep.”

I turned my head slightly. “Thank you,” I repeated, louder, swallowing the acid rising in my throat.

“Good girl,” Marla smirked, flicking her perfectly golden hair back. “Maybe one day you’ll be lucky enough to serve under someone like me.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, but it was empty. A lie wrapped in defeat.

They walked away eventually, their laughter pinning down the hall. I sat there for a moment, soup dripping from my hair, the cold seeping into my bones.

My wolf whimpered inside me, quiet and powerless. Even she had given up fighting.

I hated them. All of them.

No—maybe not all.

Darrell, my uncle. The only reason I wasn’t dead already.

It wasn’t always like this.

When my parents were alive, I remembered the warmth laughter at home. But a rogue ambush when I was eight tore that all away.

Darrell, my mother’s brother, took me in after that. He was Beta of the Silvermint Pack, second only to Alpha Cyrus himself. Respected, feared and powerful.

But me? I was just the orphaned Omega niece he kept in the servant quarters. An embarrassment he never claimed publicly.

Still, he gave me food, clothes, a roof and sometimes, when no one was watching, he’d ruffle my hair or bring me a new pair of shoes.

That was enough. It had to be.

By the end of the school day, my head still smelled like stew. The teachers ignored the stench—or worse, wrinkled their noses in exaggerated disgust.

One even handed me a detention slip for "causing a distraction in class."

It didn’t matter that I had perfect grades. That I read three years ahead of my level. That I stayed late to clean the school even after my duties at the pack house.

None of it mattered.

Because I was born Omega.

And in Silvermint, blood was everything.

“Emma!”

I paused at the edge of the school gate, heart freezing. Not Marla again.

But when I turned, I saw Ella, a kind-hearted girl from the infirmary team. A rare gem in a sea of cruelty. She handed me a small package wrapped in cloth.

“I saved you some bread and honey from lunch,” she whispered. “Eat it before the others see. Okay?”

My hands shook as I accepted it. “Why are you so kind to me?” I asked.

She smiled. “Because kindness is strength, not weakness.”

Before I could respond, a low growl came from behind me. I stiffened.

Warrior trainer Mikael, a high-ranking enforcer, stood glaring. “What are you doing with that Omega, Ella?”

Ella flinched. “Nothing—just—just giving her this.”

He snatched the bundle from my hand, tossed it to the ground, and crushed it with his boot. “Omegas don’t deserve gifts. Next time, you’ll be cleaning blood from the arena walls.”

He yanked Ella away by the arm, and I stood frozen, fists clenched.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream.

But something inside me cracked.

Back at the pack house, I scrubbed the Beta wing floors while the warriors celebrated in the grand hall. The Alpha’s son had returned from a scouting mission, and there was meat, drink, and song.

I wasn’t allowed near the festivities. Omegas didn’t belong there.

Still, I heard the cheers. The music. The life I would never live.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it.

When the hour grew late and the moon high, I slipped into the kitchen to clean the last of the dishes.

I didn’t expect to see Darrell there—alone, staring into a half-empty glass of wine.

His dark eyes flicked to me. “Emma,” he murmured, voice low and strained. “Why are you still awake?”

“I was just finishing up,” I said, lowering my gaze.

He looked tired. The usual sternness on his face was gone, replaced by something softer. Almost sad.

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that,” he said.

I blinked, startled. “You mean the pack?”

“I mean everyone.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

He sighed and stood, pouring himself another drink. “Come. Sit with me. Just for a minute.”

I hesitated. This was against the rules.

But I obeyed.

He passed me a glass—just a sip, he said. For courage.

I shouldn’t have taken it.

One sip became two. His words became blurry, mine slurred. The kitchen became too warm. My heart too confused, his hand brushed mine.

He said I looked like my mother. Said he missed her. Said I was the only one who reminded him of family.

And then—

I woke up the next morning in his bed, my clothes hastily pulled back on, the covers tangled around us.

I sat up, heart pounding in horror.

Darrell stirred, groaned, then froze. His eyes widened, and he paled. “Emma… what did we…?”

I couldn’t speak.

He leapt from the bed, running a hand through his hair, pacing like a wolf in panic. “No one can ever know about this.

Do you understand?”

Tears burned my eyes. “You’re my uncle.”

“It was a mistake,” he snapped, not meeting my eyes. “You… you can’t tell anyone. I’ll fix it.”

And like that, he was gone.