Two years. Two years I'd choked down dust in this closet of a room, the rough spun blanket a meager shield against the damp chill seeping from the stone walls. The air hung thick with the stale scent of mildew and fear. Caden's shadow still clung to the pack, a miasma of cruelty.
His reign – a tapestry woven with whispered accusations of brutality that could unravel their family's carefully constructed image.
But now it was Jacob, his son, and Jennifer, his viper of a mate, who held the reins. They were worse.
Far worse. A bone-jarring thud on the door ripped me from a sleep haunted by the glint of wolfbane-laced lashes. Jennifer's voice, a honed blade, sliced through the silence. "Get your lazy ass out of bed, or I'll have Thomas skin you alive!" My ribs ached with the memory of that whipping. The scars, pale traceries etched into my back, still throbbed under the rough fabric of my scavenged dress. The donated clothes, mostly too large, hung loosely on my frame – a testament to the gnawing hunger that had hollowed me out. I cinched my trousers with a frayed rope, the thin material offering little comfort.
Over the past two years, a profound distance grew between Athena, my wolf, and me. Her vitality gradually ebbed, leaving her a mere phantom in my memory. I believe her spirit, finally broken, surrendered to despair.
The kitchen was a cavern of shadows and the acrid tang of burnt porridge. My stomach clenched, a hollow echo of the relentless emptiness. I moved mechanically, my hands already slick with the grease from the chipped wooden counter, preparing a meager meal for the pack. The clatter of the crockery was a stark counterpoint to the silence, the only sound besides the rhythmic thump of my own starved heart.
Jennifer swept in, a trio of identical sneers – hers, Macy's, Talia's – carving a path through the air. The scent of expensive perfume warred with the musty chill of the stone hallway. "This house," Jennifer's voice, sharp as shattered glass, cut through the silence, "will be spotless. No cooking, but the Alpha King's Beta and his guard will be served, and served *well*." Her face, inches from mine, was a mask of cold fury.
"One mistake," she hissed, the words tasting like acid on my tongue, "and you'll be in that cell. Understand?"
The threat vibrated in the marrow of my bones. The memory of the last time – the three-day-long darkness, the stench of stale blood thick enough to choke on, the echoing screams that clawed at sanity – chilled me to the core. The rough-hewn stone of the cell walls, damp and cold, seemed to press against my skin even now. I couldn't risk another visit. She knew the cells were my deepest fear, and she'd use them. I knew it.
The gritty texture of the grout resisted my scrub brush, each swipe a tiny victory against the grime of a hundred quests. My aching back screamed a silent protest as I attacked the quest bathroom tiles, the smell of bleach stinging my nostrils, a stark contrast to the lingering scent of pine-needle air freshener. A hastily thrown-together sandwich – limp lettuce, a smear of mayonnaise – offered meager sustenance before the next onslaught. The cleanup was a blur of soapy water and the clatter of dishes. Later, the aroma of roasting meat, rich and decadent, wafted from the kitchen – a deliberate display.
Alpha Jacob, impeccably dressed, his silver cufflinks glinting under the chandelier's harsh light, smiled a thin, tight smile. "The Royal Pack will be impressed," he announced, his voice smooth as polished obsidian.
Jennifer, draped in silk the color of a bruised plum, laughed, a brittle sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. She casually tossed a handful of glittering coins into a crystal bowl, a careless gesture that spoke volumes. I watched, my hands calloused and raw, a stark counterpoint to her effortless elegance.
Jacob's forced smile faltered for a microsecond. That night, the silence in my small room pressed in, heavy as a shroud. The moonlight, a cold, unforgiving eye, cast long shadows across the worn wooden floorboards. I traced the faded floral pattern of my quilt, remembering the vivid, almost painful, dream from a year ago – a searing flash of amber eyes, a hand reaching for mine, then darkness. The dream was gone now, as empty and cold as this room. The image lingered though, the painful absence of that connection, that other half. My own lonely heart ached with the quiet knowledge that my life was one of quiet servitude in this grand house, far from the impossible hope of finding my mate.
The door to my cramped room clicked shut behind me, muffling the kitchen's clamor. Steam already misted the tiny bathroom as I ripped off my stained uniform, the rough fabric scratching against my skin. Two years. Two years since I'd felt anything softer than this worn cotton. The crisp, unfamiliar silk of the maid's uniform—a shocking emerald green—felt like a cool caress against my damp skin. I tugged it on, its unfamiliar weight a thrilling promise. A frantic scrub, a swift change, and I was back in the kitchen, the scent of roasting meat and simmering spices assaulting my nostrils. The rhythmic clang of pots and pans was punctuated by a shrill whisper that sliced through the air. "The Royal Beta's arrived," one cook hissed, her voice a venomous dart. Another, her face creased with a mixture of awe and fear, responded, "King Killian himself…with his Beta? Never seen *that* before." Their hushed voices, laced with speculation, swirled around me like the steam rising from the stewpot.
I was a ghost in this place, an omega invisible to these sharp-tongued alphas and betas, a silent observer in their carefully constructed world. The copper gleam of the pots, the polished wood of the tables, the heavy scent of herbs – all details that usually escaped me now felt sharply defined, etching themselves into my memory. I stood at the edge of their gossip, an unnoticed shadow, anticipating the night to come.
The weight of the tray pressed into my palms – silver, gleaming faintly under the dim light of the hallway. Each step toward the dining hall echoed, the polished stone floor cold beneath my bare feet. Then it hit me – a wave of scent, sharp and intoxicating, pine needles crushed under a deluge of rain. My wolf howled inside my skull, a primal shriek demanding attention. Before I could react, Jennifer filled the doorway, Macy a shadow at her heels.
Macy's voice, sharp and breathless, cut through the air, "OMG, did you *see* how hot they are?" Jennifer's tongue darted out, a slick, predatory motion. "Dibs on the Alpha king," she purred, her laughter brittle, sharp as shattered glass. Her gaze finally snagged on me, tray of drinks clutched in my numb fingers. "Get moving, you idiot," she snapped. Before I could obey, a sharp shove sent me sprawling. The tray exploded across the stone, the clatter of glass and the sickening splash of spilled wine a brutal symphony. Jennifer's shriek pierced the air – high-pitched, venomous.
"You ruined everything!" Thomas, Beta Thomas, materialized in the doorway, his eyes already alight with cold amusement. Jennifer's performance was in full swing, a dramatic display of outrage. I remained silent, my tongue a lead weight in my mouth. Words were useless, only invitations to more pain. A hand, rough and hard, clamped around my arm. Thomas hauled me to my feet, his smile a cruel, predatory thing. "To the cells you go," he said, his voice smooth as honey, as he dragged me away. Tears blurred my vision, a silent protest against the familiar despair. Jennifer's calculated cruelty – the scent of pine and rain now a mocking reminder of a freedom I could only ever dream of.
"Good for one damn night?" Thomas's sneer twisted his face as a fist slammed into my jaw. The world exploded in white-hot pain. My lip split, a crimson river tracing a path down my chin. I curled into a fetal ball, my leg a useless shield against the brutal impact of his boot. Two ribs splintered, the sound swallowed by a gasp I choked back. Silence, I realized, was the only weapon I had left.
"This meeting," he roared, his voice a ragged rasp echoing in the cramped cell, "is important. We can't ruin it." He hauled me upright, my broken body protesting with a sickening crunch. Then, he hurled me. My skull cracked against the unforgiving stone wall, a warm, metallic tang blooming on my tongue. Darkness bloomed at the edges of my vision, a dizzying vortex threatening to pull me under. I fought to stay conscious, to resist the beckoning oblivion.
The cell door CLANGED shut, sealing me in a tomb of ice and shadow. Alone. The taste of blood mingled with the bitter tang of despair. Tears, hot and silent, traced paths through the grime on my cheeks. A choked sob escaped, a silent plea lost in the suffocating darkness. Just…away. Away from this.
The heavy oak door swung shut behind me, the scent of roasting meat – rich, savory, promising – already clinging to the air. My stomach rumbled, a low growl mirroring the wolf's restless whine in my head. I pulled out a chair at the long mahogany table, the polished surface reflecting the flickering candlelight. Then it hit me again – a wave of scent, sharp and sweet, peppermint and dark chocolate, so intense it stole my breath. Aces' howls echoed in my skull, a primal scream demanding action.
I pushed back, the chair scraping against the floorboards. My Beta, Carter, entered, his eyes scanning the room.
"Smell that?" I asked, my voice tight. He inhaled deeply.
"Yeah, the food smells amazing. At least *something* good came of this trip." His tone held a weary sarcasm I knew well.
"No," I insisted, my gaze fixed on the doorway. "Smell *chocolate* and *peppermint*?" Carter's brow furrowed. He looked at me, a mixture of amusement and concern in his eyes, as if I'd sprouted a second head. Jennifer and Macy glided in, Jennifer brushing against my arm with deliberate slowness, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down my spine. She moved to the head of the table, a practiced grace that suggested a familiarity with this kind of ritual.
"Oh, we haven't drinks yet. Let me see to that," she purred, her voice like honeyed poison. She disappeared through a doorway leading to the kitchen, and the scent of chocolate and peppermint exploded, a fragrant tidal wave washing over me. Aces roared, a guttural bellow that echoed my own heart's frantic leap. *Mate*. The word echoed in my mind, sharp and undeniable. *Our mate*.
The scent hit me first—a sharp, metallic tang interwoven with something else, something primal and intoxicating. "Beta Carter," I rasped, the words catching in my throat. My wolf howled, a low growl rumbling in my chest. We moved as one, drawn by the scent's escalating intensity. The kitchen shimmered under the opulent chandeliers, a stark contrast to the coppery reek clinging to the air. It pulsed strongest near a shattered tray on the polished marble floor, two women—Jennifer and her sycophantic friend—hovering over the cleanup.
Their smiles were sharp, calculated, their eyes glittering with something akin to amusement.
"What happened?" I demanded, my gaze sweeping the room, the scent a burning brand under my skin.
Jennifer's voice, smooth as polished onyx, cut through the sudden hush.
"Oh, nothing, Alpha King. A maid dropped a tray. We're just getting more drinks ready for the dining room. No worries, we have it under control."
Beta Thomas entered then, Alpha Jacob flanking him, his expression impassive. But the scent—it clung to Thomas like a shroud, a sickening blend of my mate's unique musk and the coppery tang of blood. My wolf exploded. My fingers clamped around Thomas's throat, nails digging into his skin. He was lifted from his feet, a rag doll slammed against the ancient stone wall. The impact cracked the plaster, dust raining down like morbid confetti.
"Where. Is. She?" Each word was a growl, the air thick with barely contained rage. Thomas gasped for breath, his eyes wide with pain. "Who…?"
"Her scent is on you. Her blood." My grip tightened, the wall groaning under the renewed impact. A low, guttural snarl escaped my lips. Jennifer's carefully constructed composure finally shattered.
"He… he took her to the cells, Alpha King. She… she got into trouble. She said the maid was an omega and deserved punishment." A primal roar tore from my throat, a sound that vibrated the very floorboards. Every head in the room snapped down, necks bared in instinctive submission.
Grabbing Thomas by the scruff of his neck, I dragged him towards the door, the scent of my mate—my *injured* mate—a relentless beacon pulling me forward.
The stale air of the basement hit me first—a suffocating blend of mildew and something metallic, acrid. Thomas's lantern cast feeble shadows that danced across damp, rough-hewn stone walls. My breath hitched. Cells. Grim, barred cages. My blood roared, a primal drumbeat against the cold.
"She's in here for dropping a tray?" I snarled, my voice a low growl directed at Alpha Jacob. His head shook, a jerky, unconvincing denial.
"No, sir. I wasn't aware. I'll get to the bottom of this personally." They led me to the last cell. The sight that greeted me slammed into my gut, a physical blow. My wolf howled silently, a caged fury mirroring the one in the cell.
I whirled on Thomas and Jacob, the fury barely contained. "If it weren't for the Council…" My voice cracked with barely controlled rage.
"I'd rip out your throats." My mate lay on a makeshift pallet of filthy rags, barely clothed, a canvas of bruises blossoming on her pale skin. Her ribs showed sharply beneath her skin, her limbs stick-thin. The stench of old blood clung to her, a testament to her suffering. Her eyes were closed, her lips a frightening shade of blue.
Starvation etched itself into every line of her face. I ripped the cell door open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest. I scooped her into my arms, her body stiff and ice-cold against mine. She didn't stir, didn't acknowledge me, only nestled instinctively closer, seeking the meager warmth of my embrace. Beta Daniel hurried forward, his hand gentle as he draped a blanket around us. We carried her up, the climb a slow, agonizing ascent from that damp hellhole. "I'm going to conduct a full investigation of this pack," I announced to Jacob, my voice strained but firm. Behind me, I heard Thomas mutter, "Stupid omega…" A sharp crack echoed through the hallway. My Beta, his face a mask of controlled fury, stood over Thomas, hand still raised. "Say that again." His growl carried the promise of serious consequences.