Wren Dove Doesn’t Stay Perfect! — Bonus Chapter 1

***Wren***

They say I was born under the Moon Goddess’s smile.
There was no war. 
No power struggle. 
No curses. 
Just peace. Just love. My parents were fated—true mates, deeply in love. I was their miracle, my mother’s last chance at trying again. The golden pup. I grew up on a pedestal no one dared to question if I deserved it, not even me.
I was never asked what I wanted.
Because they believed I already had it.
And for a long time, I believed it, too.
I trace a fingertip along the fogged-up glass, drawing a crescent moon before it fades.
I grew up in the sunlight of pride-filled eyes. My mother’s gaze, all warmth and admiration. My father’s booming love when he introduced me to other Alphas and betas. People who knew my family drama would smile at me like I was a symbol, not a person. 
A bond fulfilled. 
A living reminder that love could heal curses. That peace could breed perfection.
At first, it felt like a blessing.
Then, a pressure.
Now, a cage.
I’ve always spoke softly, kindly. Never interrupt. Never pout. Never disappoint. I smiled through every expectation, every ceremony, every impossible standard. 
I never caused trouble. I never raised my voice. I kept my promises to the Moon Goddess, every single one.
But somewhere in between all those gentle yeses, I stopped asking myself what I wanted.
‘Wren’s the kind of daughter every Luna dreams of,’ I’ve heard them say. ‘Graceful. Generous. Untouched by resentment or rebellion.’
I remember nodding and smiling. I always smile.
Even when it hurts.
Lily once said that if I had a thorn in my hand, I’d apologize to the rosebush for bleeding. She meant it as a compliment, I think. It didn’t feel like one. Not with her piercing eyes.
But my big sister was right.
I shift in my seat and press my knees together, the stiffness in my posture more habit than comfort.
I always thought I was the lucky one. I had the perfect parents. The attention. The trust.
And I still feel that way—grateful. I swear to the Goddess, I do. But there’s this part of me that keeps whispering, *When is it my turn to choose?*
Because I didn’t choose anything.
Not the pack I studied in for the last five years, even though I loved it and if I had to choose, I’d do it again.
Not the path that led to being the youngest high-ranking female in my generation in the Diamond Claw pack.
Not even the way people look at me—like I was carved from moonlight.
No one asked. And I never dared to answer.
I did everything right. 
I waited. 
I trained. 
I prayed more times than I can count. I kept myself untouched for my fated mate. I never questioned the Moon Goddess. 
I wore white and gold on every Full Moon. With tears in my eyes, I whispered her name into my pillow every night, I whispered my prayers in my head because I wasn’t brave enough to share with anyone else.
And still—nothing.
No spark. No scent. No damn mate.
Meanwhile, Lily, who never did any of those things, never even *liked* the Moon Goddess, found not one, but two fated mates. Two.
And I love her. I do. I always have. Even when she couldn’t stand the sight of me, I loved her. Even when her eyes flinched with jealousy or bitterness. Even when I was too scared to be alone with her as a child because her silence felt like a whip. I still love her.
But sometimes, when I’m alone, I think—*why not me*?
Why not me?
Is it because I never broke the rules? Because I never rebelled?
Is that what I need to do to be seen?
I tried talking to someone once. To say it out loud when things felt too big to stay in my chest.
We were in the middle of cooldown stretches after combat drills. I said, quietly, almost like a joke to her, “Do you ever feel... tired, like hollow, even when nothing’s wrong?”
Karla, my classmate, built like she’d swallowed steel, glanced at me while pulling her braid tighter. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. *“Tired?”* she repeated, like the word confused her. “Of what, Wren? Sweetheart, what do *you* have to be tired of?”
I didn’t answer. Just looked down and picked at a frayed thread on my sleeve.
She gave me a slap disguised as a pat. “You’ve got the kind of life most girls would claw each other for. You’re the Moon Goddess’s little golden child in your pack and even here. Be grateful, Wren.”
I nodded. Smiled back. Agreed, because that’s what I do.
That was the last time I tried to voice my thoughts. I tucked that hollow part deeper inside me, wrapped it in silence.
Because maybe she’s right.  
I *have* everything.
But lately, I’ve started wondering if everything means *what everyone else wants for me*... or what *I* want for myself.
I sit in the back of the train headed to Summerville, my hand pressed to the cold window. It’s snowing lightly. 
Perfect and polished as always, just like Mom always told me to be, my reflection stares back at me in the glass—long hair neatly braided, soft pink lipstick, ivory wool coat without a single wrinkle.
I can see why they all believe I’m the girl who has it all. I do look like that. There isn’t a hair out of place.
But no one ever looks past that.
No one ever wonders if I’m lost. Or unsure.
It’s like when you show up shining every day, people forget to ask if the light is heavy to carry.
I arrive in Summerville just after dusk, my high heels clicking over the salted pavement. The city hums in a low, unfamiliar rhythm—colder, sharper than the soft rustle of forest paths back in Diamond Claw where I’ve been studying.
Now, I’m not a student. I’m just a girl in a coat, standing in front of a door I shouldn’t be at and knocking on a stranger’s door.
Except he’s not a stranger.
Not to me.
We met at the Diamond Claw pack. I was still settling into my first year. He was nearly done with his studies, older, confident. 
Not my fated mate. 
I would’ve felt it. 
But he noticed me before anyone else did. Really *noticed* me. Not the image, not the princess they all admired. Just… me.
He made me laugh when I didn’t expect to. Said I thought too much, smiled too little. He tried to kiss me once under the big library arch. I pulled away—I was waiting. For fate. For the one.
He didn’t mock me for it. Just smiled and said that one day, I’ll not deny him.
He had opinions. Strong ones. About the pack’s politics. About fated mates. And with phrases about the pack’s ranks, completely not what my family would ever approve of.
Which is exactly why I came here.
I told no one—not even Ava, my cousin and best friend. Not that Ava would do anything to stop me since she lives in London, which is on the other side of the world. 
I just packed and left the Diamond Claw pack.
Because I want *something* to be mine. A choice. A mistake. A moment. Anything.
I knock on the door. My heart is a war drum in my chest. My fingers tremble, but I don’t retreat.
This is it.
This is me stepping out of the portrait they painted of me and into something I *chose*.
The door opens.
His face is just as I remember—sharp smile, emerald eyes, that slight tilt of his head like he is aware of the Alpha aura he exudes.
“Wren?”
I nod, a small, practiced motion, chin high, even as something trembles deep in my chest.
“Hi,” I whisper, a breath more than a word.
Stephen’s eyes widen, then darken with curiosity. “Didn’t expect you here.”
“I know.”
I bite my bottom lip.
His eyes flick over my body, curious… calculating.
A beat of silence stretches between us.
Stephen doesn’t move right away. Neither do I.
But I’ve come this far.
I’m still the girl who had it all. But now, I decide what *all* means.
Then, a half-smile plays on his lips. “Come in, Wren.” Stephen steps aside, at last, something unreadable behind his gaze as he stares at my exposed neck.
I cross the threshold.
The door closes behind me.
It doesn’t slam.
It seals.
What I’m about to do is not the behavior expected of the Blackmoon’s princess.