I never liked early mornings, especially not those that began with the relentless beat of my aunt's hand against my shoulder, shaking me awake.
"Mila," she hissed, her voice carrying a note of urgency. "Get up. You're needed in the Alpha's house."
"Aunt Rachael," I groaned, burying my face deeper into the thin pillow, hoping to drown out the world around me. But my aunt was persistent, tugging at my arm until I reluctantly rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
As an omega in Crescent Pack, life wasn't easy. We weren't subjected to outright abuse, but we certainly weren't treated with the same respect as the other wolves. We were the ones sent on menial tasks, like serving food to the Alpha's family.
Dragging my feet through the dimly lit corridors, I made my way to the Alpha's house, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach with each step. Today, I was to serve breakfast to Sawyer, the Alpha's son.
