Untouchable Chapter 1 -

Untouchable – Prologue
(Author’s Note: Untouchable, Book 1 of the Moonlight Avatar Series contains
details of the following subjects: abuse, trauma, suicide, recovery from trauma,
and emotional relapse. This book and series is not suitable for all readers. While
the subject of the supernatural, werewolves, and magic is the focal point of the
story, the series will follow the effects of trauma and abandonment associated
with the main female lead. If you are easily triggered by any of the mentioned
subjects, do not read ahead for your mental health. This is your only
warning. Read at your own risk.)

Blood.

Crimson liquid coated my face, seeping from the open wound on my forehead. Its
metallic taste mixed with the saltiness of my tears served as a reminder of my earlier
beating. My body throbbed as the phantom fists and steel-toed shoes make their home
in my flesh as if the beating was still happening. With every movement of my limbs,
agony shots through my fragile body until I took refuge in the dirtied corner of my cell.

The cell I called home for years. It had witnessed the maturation of a frightened young
child to an equally frightened teenager. Sometimes, I forget the walls had witnessed
more atrocities committed against my body than I could remember.

Why am I here? I suppose you could say I was a criminal. An accused criminal. My
pack was convinced that I was the one responsible for my Luna and her daughter’s
death eight years ago. Ever since that day, I was reminded of how much of a disgrace I
was to all werewolf kind. I endured their fiery rage with each blow to my now emaciated
body. Each bruise and cut on my muting brown skin were messages that all
harmoniously said the same thing.

You deserve to suffer.

No matter how much I screamed or cried, my pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears. No
one wanted to believe my side of the story. I still remember that day as if it happened
yesterday, for it had burned itself to the forefront of my mind.

Nuria Prince was the daughter of the great Alpha Jonathan Prince and Luna Celeste
Johansen-Prince. She was also my best friend. My father, Steven Lane, and mother,
Ashley Lane, were Alpha Jonathan’s Beta and Beta Female. Our families were close
with each other, including the Gammas, Omar, and Amani Dubois. Nuria and I were like
two peas in a pod. Our mothers raised us together, and our bond strengthened from
there. We did everything together that young girls did; we played with dolls, went to the
same school, had sleepovers in each other’s rooms, and more. If one of us were
around, the other was not too far behind. I would even say that I was closer to Nuria
than I was to Raina, my older sister, or Neron, her older brother. Don’t get me wrong, I
still loved Raina very much, but the two-year gap between us, she wanted to be with
kids her age.

Nuria had the sweet innocence of her mother and held the air of authority like her father.
Over time, the pack began calling her an angel, which formed her new title of Angel of
the Pack. Her smile and laughter were infectious. She could brighten up your gloomiest
days with a smile or a giggle.

Angels were beautiful, and Nuria was a beauty. Her long black hair traversed down to
the middle of her back, inheriting it from her mother. Her blue eyes rivaled the bluest of
skies. Her chubby cheeks were so squeezable, which I would do whenever she got on
my nerves. I was proud to call Nuria my sister. I knew we would grow up to be an
unstoppable duo. The Alpha’s and Beta’s daughters together? It was a dream team
made by the moon goddess herself.

On that fateful day, when we were nine years old, I felt daring—the complete opposite
of my normally shy demeanor. Nuria was the courageous one, no doubt ingrained in her
alpha genes. I came up with the idea to push aside the rules for us to play at our
favorite place: a pond deep in the oak forest. We would go there to play tag, make mud
pies, or dream about what our wolves looked like. Our parents warned us to never go
into the woods alone because of potential rogue attacks. However, we were a rebellious
pair and did the opposite of what we were told.

We believed we were untouchable.

Our older siblings were off doing whatever pre-teens did, so, like the disobedient pair
we were, we went off.

Not long after that, Luna Celeste, or Aunt Essie, as I affectionately called by, followed
us and reprimanded both of us for sneaking away against their orders. But Nuria and I
had our fun, and we would do it again. Aunt Essie knew that by the look she gave us.

That should have been the end of it. We should’ve gone back to the pack house, and
continued to live our best lives, but fate had a sickening way of creeping up on
unsuspecting people.

I should’ve taken our parents’ warnings seriously. Being daring also came with stupidity,
and I was very stupid that day. There hadn’t been attacks for a couple of months up to
that point, so I genuinely thought we were safe. It was only when more than a dozen of
those disgusting dogs rushed in from all angles around us was when I understood we
were never safe.

“Girls, run home, now! Don’t stop until you get there!” Aunt Essie screamed at us before
shifting into a beautiful black wolf, ready to protect us with all her power.
Nuria and I ran for our lives. We grabbed each other’s hands and ran as fast as our little
legs could carry us.

But we didn’t get far before a rogue, larger than life with nothing to lose, tore us apart
from each other. Literally. I remember looking back to see the biggest of the rogues,
their leader, tear into my aunt like she was a piece of paper. The brown rogue who
separated Nuria from me had no remorse or consciousness with the way he plunged his
claw into her small body. The screams from Nuria and Aunt Essie were forever seared
into my mind as their innocent blood coated the dense forest floor. I, for some reason,
was left alive that day, but not without a deep bite into my right arm.

The leader, a large werewolf shifted into human form walked up to me with the blood of
the Luna dripping from his hand, face, and jaws. He reached out and painted my face in
their blood, laughing. I would never forget those deep blue, almost bloodshot eyes
staring deep into my quivering soul.

I lost my best friend. I lost my aunt. Their mangled bodies, void of life, were left in pools
of their blood. And all I could do was stare. Nothing registered in my mind. I still felt the
fleeting warmth of Nuria’s hand in my own.

She isn’t dead! She couldn’t be dead!

Right?

What happened after played like a nightmare. The calvary arrived too late to the scene
because the attack happened without warning. A horn, normally sounded by the patrols
of an incoming attack, didn’t sound. Later, it was learned the rogues killed off the
patrols, adding to the death toll. I heard the heartbroken howl of Alpha Jonathan as the
mate bond between him and Luna Celeste shriveled and died. I listened to the cries of
Neron as he mourned over the loss of his mother and baby sister and the shattered
howls of all pack members. Later that day, the leaders of Zircon Moon informed all the
neighboring packs of the tragic loss after cleaning up the horrific scene.

Then, all eyes turned to me. The little girl covered in the blood of both mother and child.
I, the sole survivor of this massacre, the one who shouldn’t have lived, was now the one
the blame fell upon, demanding why I didn’t die.

Why did I, a pup of the Beta, get to live, while our Luna and Angel, had to die?

But no one knew the pain I felt from watching my best friend get mauled to death or the
distant cries of the Luna who couldn’t handle the onslaught on her own. Neron stared at
me with so unbearable sadness. Alpha Jonathan scowled at me with so much revulsion
that my child-mind couldn’t comprehend the heat of his rage. But it isn’t just his hate. It
was hatred from the entire pack, including my parents and older sister.
Once they learned it was my idea for Nuria and me to go to the pond, my fate was
sealed.

On that day, I didn’t just lose Nuria and Aunt Essie. I lost my pack and my family, who
never looked at me the same way again. I was officially branded as a speck of werewolf
excrement. I, Halima Lane, was branded a criminal.

Over time, Neron grew to hate me too, not that I blame him. It was my fault he lost half
his family.

Flash forward to today, eight years later. I washere in a prison cell made only for the
lowest of all werewolf kind. In the distance were other cells where the guards would
place other criminals and rogues to interrogate and torture them. To be placed in the
same dungeon as actual beasts said a lot about how I was viewed by this pack.

If the guards were bored, however, they would play their “games” with me. No one could
stop them, or if they could, they didn’t want to. They’d cut me up and beat me, just to
see how much I could endure before I passed out.

Yet, that wasn’t the worst of it. There was one guard I hated the most and was terrified
of the most. He took his game to another level. They were different games than what I
was used to, starting when I was fourteen, but, as I got older, I understood what the
games meant.

Those games left me broke, bruised, and dirty.

When I wasn’t down here in the bitter cold, I was expected to perform labor as the pack
slave. That’s the only reason Alpha Jonathan hadn’t executed me yet. Scrubbing the
pack house floors from top to bottom, doing the laundry, and washing the dishes were
just a few of my duties. Allowing me anywhere near the food was forbidden, for they
feared I would poison the pack.

Rumors held more weight against the defenseless.

The Omegas oversaw the cooking. Their hateful stares were nothing new to me. Taking
one step into the pack kitchen was equivalent to spitting on their faces. Washing the
dishes was the only time they allowed me in the kitchen, and they expected each dish to
be spotless. With each missed spot, Cassandra, the head cook, and Lead Omega
would strike me with a weapon of her choice, including knives. Sometimes, the other
Omegas would sabotage my work on purpose, so they’d watch me get beaten. My pain
became their entertainment and judging by their sinister smiles, they weren’t planning
on stopping anytime soon.

Sometimes, the beatings were so severe that I had to be treated by the pack doctor. But
he was just like the rest of the pack. He, too, blamed me for the loss. He’d give me mild
pain medication and send me on my way. Not once has he dressed my wounds. They
were left to fester and heal on their own. My body was littered with old and new scars
that never got the proper treatment they needed.

I wasn’t allowed a day off; the Alpha determined I was unworthy of leisure. I worked
without rest from sunrise to sunset, hands in a bucket of soapy water, on my knees
scrubbing away filth from the pristine floors. There was never a dull moment when my
bucket was knocked over, or I was pushed into it, or if I randomly got struck in the face
or the back by a random member. Slaves were supposed to be abused. They’re
servants while simultaneously serving as punching bags. That was my fate.

I had to endure it all. I wasn’t allowed to scream, cry, or beg. I was Zircon Moon’s silent
doll. Dolls don’t speak or complain; they take whatever treatment they rightfully deserve.
But actual dolls were treated better than me. If a young pup ruins their doll, their mother
could stitch them back up and they’re okay again. The pup was happy until the next
tear.

I didn’t have anyone to stitch me back up. My mother had forsaken that duty and my
father acted as though I didn’t exist. Raina, my once-beloved sister, partook in my
torment, along with her friends. As an older sister, one would think she wouldn’t hesitate
to protect me, but she found immense pleasure in hurting me.

But I couldn’t say that their abandonment hurts anymore. The beatings felt the same to
me unless it was from Alpha Jonathan or Neron. Given their status and the amount of
power that flowed through their Alpha blood, their brutality was enough to leave me
incapacitated for several days.

They blame me for the fall of their family. To them, I was the one who ripped the heart
out of our pack. However, deep down, I believed they knew I was innocent, but they
needed a scapegoat for their wrathful feelings, and I fit the bill.

Despite all the pain I was put through, I still had hope. Hope that one day I would find
my mate, the other half to my soul. Every wolf had a mate—their eternal lover, matched
by the Moon Goddess herself. I hope my mate, whoever he or she was, would take me
out of this hellhole and love me for me.

That was all I wish for. That little smidgen of happiness through the mate bond.

Please, Moon Goddess. Grant me that happiness, save me from this place.

Please…