Slapshot with My Werewolf Stepbrother

Evelyn’s POV

What is the absolute worst thing that could happen to a person?

Is it the humiliation of being born with braces and a face full of freckles? That’s common enough, hardly a tragedy.

Or maybe it’s enduring years of relentless bullying, feeling like a permanent outsider in a place meant for community? That pain cuts deep and lasts.

But what could possibly be worse?

Try this: waking up on a random Monday to your mother storming into your room, her voice slicing through the morning quiet, announcing, “Start packing, Evelyn. We’re leaving.”

Leaving?

I was hunched over my messy desk, history textbooks and scribbled notes everywhere. Her words didn’t make sense.

“What did you say?” I choked out, my brain refusing to catch up.

Her face was a mask of cold resolve. No warmth, no softness. “We move tonight. The pack council has ruled. With your father gone, the law compels me to remarry. The Alpha of Ravenswood has made an offer.”

“An offer?” The word tasted vile, like my mother was some commodity being traded.

A bitter, broken sound that was supposed to be a laugh escaped me. “You can’t be serious.”

Her jaw tightened. “I am deadly serious. You will accept this.”

A hot wave of anger and betrayal crashed over me. “Dad hasn’t even been gone a year! And you’re just… auctioning yourself off to some Alpha? Trying to replace him?”

Her eyes flashed, not with fire, but with ice. A chilling indifference. That hurt more than any shout.

“There are realities you know nothing about, Evelyn. Your father left debts. Mountains of them. More than I can ever repay alone. If I refuse this, we lose everything. Our home. Our place in this pack. Is that what you want?”

It felt like a punch to the gut. My dad? In debt? That was a secret he’d taken to his grave.

Tears burned, but I swallowed them. I wouldn’t let them taint my memories of him. “So he dies, and we get punished for it? How is that fair?”

“It’s not about fair,” she said, her tone dropping slightly. “It’s about survival. It’s the only path left.”

I shoved my chair back so hard it screeched. “No. It’s the coward’s path.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I fled to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door, as if the flimsy wood could keep the world out.

The girl in the mirror was a stranger. Pale, freckled skin. Red-rimmed eyes behind smudged glasses. Braces that seemed to scream ‘loser’. And beneath it all, a deep, familiar weakness.

I pressed a hand to my chest, where a dull, erratic throb was a constant companion. My heart kept beating, a stubborn, flawed machine.

Arrhythmogenic Right Ventricular Dysplasia.

ARVD. My lifelong shadow. It made my heart’s rhythm chaotic, sent me crashing to the floor without warning. While other kids learned to run and shift, I was in hospital beds, listening to doctors murmur about limitations. I’d never shifted. My body was a cage, a constant reminder I was broken.

Sometimes I thought the universe had it out for me. I remembered begging for a simple job at a bookstore. Just stacking shelves. I lasted three days before collapsing in the fiction aisle. Woke up in a hospital, wires taped to my skin. My mother sobbed. My father looked shattered. They spent our savings on more tests, only to hear the same verdict: she is fragile; do not stress her.

Since then, I’d been treated like porcelain. Handle with care. Spoiler: porcelain shatters. And I kept proving them right.

My only hope was college. Study software engineering. Get a safe, sedentary job where my mind mattered, not my failing body. It was my single dream. The one tiny light in a very dark tunnel that made me feel like maybe I wasn’t completely worthless.

I whispered to my reflection, “If I weren’t so broken, maybe Mom wouldn’t have to do this.”

But I was. The guilt was a heavier weight than the news.

With a soul-deep exhaustion, I left the bathroom. I pulled on my school uniform with numb fingers, packed my bag with trembling hands. Ready or not, I had to face the day.

The moment I stepped through the school gates, my two best friends knew.

“Whoa, Ev. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Chloe blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that was…”

“It’s okay,” I muttered, shaking my head. “But not far off.”

Grace looped her arm through mine as we walked into the building. “Talk. Now.”

I let out a breath that hurt. “My mom is remarrying.”

They both stopped dead. Confusion melted into shock.

“To who?” Grace demanded, her voice sharp.

“Some Alpha,” I said, the bitterness leaking through. “Pack law, apparently. And apparently, Dad left us drowning in debt. So we get to move and pretend to be a happy new family.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “That’s insane. Evelyn, you can’t just go along with—”

“I don’t have a choice,” I snapped, my voice breaking. I hated the crack in it.

“There’s always a choice,” Chloe shot back, eyes blazing. “Run. Stay with us. Anything is better than being shipped off to some stranger.”

For a second, the idea sparked. Then it died. Where would I go? No money. No wolf. A heart that couldn’t handle a brisk walk. I’d be dead in a ditch in hours.

I forced a hollow laugh. “Right. Me, on my own. I’d last until sunset, tops.”

They didn’t laugh. They looked at me with that awful, gut-wrenching pity. It made me feel smaller.

“Don’t,” I said, softer this time.

Grace squeezed my hand. “It’s not pity. We just… hate this for you.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, though my chest felt like collapsing. “Story of my life.”

The school day blurred into a haze of dread. My mind raced through terrifying scenarios. I had to prepare for whatever was coming.

Walking home felt like a death march.

Every step tightened the coil of anxiety in my stomach. I thought about turning around, hiding at Chloe’s. But it would just delay the inevitable.