Stuck with the enemy

Chapter 1: Presentations

Deniz's Story

Returning from my daily training, I trace the same path home, music pulsing in my ears, thoughts racing ahead to the rest of my day. It's my usual morning routine: breakfast, gym, work, training-a rhythm that's almost comforting.

But something about today feels different, a quiet thrill humming beneath the surface. My birthday is fast approaching, and it's not just any birthday-I'm turning 18, the age I'll experience my first shift. The day I become stronger. In a place like this, strength isn't just a privilege; it's survival.

Living on the outskirts of town isn't for the weak. Danger feels closer out here, the rogue attacks have been increasing, keeping everyone on high alert. Patrols have doubled, keeping the peace as best as they can, but still-the unknown lurks, and we have to be ready for anything.

My brother, Aras, and I train harder than most, out of necessity and purpose. He's the only family I have left, and we've clung together through everything. After losing our parents to a vicious rogue attack, it's just been us, and I don't know what I would do without him. He's more than just a brother-he's my protector, my mentor, my best friend.

Our parents were among the Alpha's top fighters, or so I was told. I was too young to remember much before that day. I only remember the call. I was alone at home, a quiet eight-year-old girl, when the phone rang and delivered a truth that shattered my world. My parents were gone, killed in cold blood. I was terrified-devastated-and I cried until my small heart could bear no more. The nightmares lasted for years, haunted by scenes of their last moments. They'd died defending our Luna, but in the end, they couldn't save her either. She succumbed to her injuries not long after.

Life after their funeral was a nightmare of its own. At just eight years old, I became an orphan alongside my brother, who was only sixteen. We quickly learned the world didn't stop for our grief. We had to fend for ourselves. Our Alpha, the one we should have been able to count on, turned a blind eye. Instead of support, we were left with debts and, eventually, we lost the only home we had. We slept on the streets that first summer, scraping by until Aras managed to find a job. With his hard work, we moved into a tiny rental-a bedroom, a living room, a bathroom, and a barely-there kitchen. Aras insisted I take the bedroom; he knew I needed the privacy more than he did.

Now, we've found a fragile balance. I have a job too, so we're getting by, though it's nowhere near the life we had before. Our dream is to reclaim our family's home one day, though we know it's a long way off. But we don't give up easily.

After everything, I've learned to keep my guard up, to trust only Aras, and to never believe in empty promises. The pack, and even our Alpha, only looked out for themselves. Despite all that my parents sacrificed for him, he never lifted a finger to help us. Instead, he denied Aras a place in the patrols, as if we had no place here. Why? I'll never understand.

I see them, the Alpha and his family, living their perfect lives from afar. His son, Derek, is the worst of all-a spoiled, arrogant show-off, oblivious to the world beyond his wealth and future power. People tiptoe around him, too afraid to call him out, while girls fawn over him, hoping to be chosen as the next Luna. I pity whoever ends up trapped with him.

But I keep my resentment to myself. Derek probably doesn't even know I exist, and I'm fine with that. Crossing his family would mean certain danger. They're not just powerful-they're ruthless. But my real anger is directed elsewhere, at the rogues who stole everything from us, my family, my safety, my childhood. Aras and I share a hatred for them, a fire that drives us.

Since that tragic day, the Alpha has become obsessed with revenge, tracking the rogue leader with no success. His desperation only fuels our own determination. The only thing we share with him is a hatred for those who took our family away.

Finally, I reached home, unlocking the door and stepping inside. I dropped my gym bag at the entrance, kicked off my shoes, and flopped onto the couch, feeling a rare moment of peace. Aras was still at work; his shift wouldn't end until eight. With the living room to myself, I turned up the music, feeling the rhythm lift my spirits. I danced and sang while changing into something more comfortable before heading to the kitchen.

Rummaging through the fridge, I decided on carbonara for dinner. Cooking relaxed me, especially with music filling the air. Turkish songs, my little link to home, always had a way of grounding me, reminding me of who I am and where I come from.

As I finished the pasta, I heard the door open and Aras's familiar voice calling out.