Beware Of The Dog

Prologue

The pack is your world. You live your your pack, you die with your pack. It is your blood, your heart, and your soul. Yet, that was not the life for Avon Emeriah.

Three a.m. It was dark, the stars still positioned high in the sky as the half moon shone bright. Snapping her lamp on, she slowly sat upright and sighed. Her long eyelashes fluttering nearly shut, barely awake for this time of the day. It was hard to sleep nowadays, especially with the sharp pain piercing through her entire body. A headache shot through her head as her brows furrowed, putting her head in her hands. Avon remembered the events of the day before, when she was pushed against a locker at school and punched relentlessly. It was neverending.

The physical abuse occured often. Omegas were just as rare as alphas, yet treated the complete opposite. They were often seen as whores, homewreckers, and associated with prostitution. Avon never agreed to being born like this; she would want to be a beta instead - or even better - an alpha. She never wanted the attention from either of them, especially during heat season. Jealous girlfriends and boyfriends would constantly attack her for getting the attention of their significant other, and it's even more violent with the alphas.

The alpha of her pack, Tristan Kanvoy, was the harshest of them all. Blaming her for the death of his parents, as well as her own, and even beating her for not being able to shift at her age. Everyone in her academy can already shift, as you learn when you turn thirteen, yet she cannot. Her own wolf doesn't even speak with her, which makes it even worse. The entire pack is turned against her, even her own older brother. Refusing to even see Avon as his blood relative, Peter often joins the beatings with the pack.

The physical, emotional, and mental abuse turned Avon numb. She slid her legs from under the covers to the slippers beside her bed, walking towards her connected bathroom. She lived in the basement, where the pack had forced her to go after the incident. She looked in the mirror and glanced over the cuts and the bruises that littered her body with an stoic face. Her brown hair reaching just below her waist, parted down the middle with bangs framing her face. A porcelain figure, she was so pale and frail-looking that it would seem like a simple hit would shatter her. Her eyes were a light, golden color, with long eyelashes that made them look droopy. Her fingers grazed over the bruises on her face, as it cascaded down towards the collar on her neck.

Disdain filled her throat as she frowed. Oh, how she hates this collar. Omegas are required to wear collars that restrict the amount of pheromones they produce, especially during heat season. It was a mark of shame. For omegas, it is a target. Biting her lip, she quickly sucked in air and turned back around, making her way back to her bed.

Avon was tired. She was seventeen, and her life was miserable.