Chapter 2
The cold of the kitchen tiles seeped through my thin slippers, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my chest. At twenty two, I had expected to be running my own pack, not scrubbing grease off industrial pots at four in the morning. My birthday had passed two weeks ago in a blur of legal papers and threats. Now, I was just a servant with a ring I couldn't take off.
"Faster, Santosh. The pack expect breakfast by five, and the Alpha doesn't like to wait," Cleo spat, leaning against the counter. She was a high ranking Beta with eyes like a hawk and a mouth that only knew how to sneer. She had spent the last hour making sure I didn't miss a single spot, even going as far as to pour coffee on the floor just so I'd have to start over.
"I'm going as fast as I can, Cleo," I whispered, my back aching.
"Don't use my name, Omega. To you, I'm Ma'am," she said, her hand moving to the back of my head. She gripped my hair and forced my face toward the dirty dishwater.
"You think because you're in his bed at night that you're special? You're a hostage. A pet. Nothing more."
I grit my teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a sob. "He doesn't want me in his bed, Cleo. We both know that."
She laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the empty kitchen. "At least you're not delusional. Now get those pans done. The guests arrive at noon."
"Guests?" I asked, looking up.
"A visiting Alpha from the South. Not that it concerns you. You'll be staying in the servant's quarters for the duration of the visit. Hughes doesn't want you embarrassing him."
She kicked my bucket over, sending gray water swirling around my feet, and walked out. I stayed on my knees, staring at my reflection in the soapy water. I didn't look twenty two. I looked like I had aged a decade in a single night.
I waited until I heard her footsteps disappear down the hall before I stood up. I didn't go back to the pots. Instead, I moved toward the back stairs that led to the Alpha's private study. I had to see him. I had to know if he was serious about my brothers.
I didn't knock. I knew if I did, he'd tell me to leave. I pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.
Hughes was standing by the window, his shirt off, his back a map of scars and muscle. The scent of him hit me like a physical wall. It was aggressive, dominant, and deeply intoxicating in a way that made my inner wolf whimper.
"I don't recall giving you permission to enter," he said, not even turning around.
"Hughes, please," I said, my voice cracking. "Let my brothers go. They have nothing to do with what happened years ago. They were children."
He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. He looked at me with such intense loathing that I had to take a step back. "Your brothers were old enough to watch. They were old enough to laugh while your father burned my pack's village.
They stay where they are."
I ran to him, grabbing his arm. His skin was like fire. "They won't survive the dungeons! They're not like you. They're soft. They'll die down there."
Hughes laughed, a cold, empty sound. He grabbed my wrists, his grip so tight I knew there would be bruises by noon. He yanked me closer, forcing me to look at the jagged scar on his shoulder. "Soft? Good. Maybe they'll break faster. Maybe they'll finally feel a fraction of what I felt while I watched my mother die."
"I am begging you," I sobbed, sinking to my knees while he still held my wrists. "Take it out on me. I'm your wife. You can do whatever you want to me, just let them go."
He looked down at me, his expression unreadable for a split second before his lip curled in a sneer. "You're already mine to break, Kiel. Taking it out on you is a given. But your brothers? They are the insurance policy. If you so much as look at the gate, they lose a finger. Do you understand?"
He shoved me away, and I tumbled back onto the carpet. I felt small, pathetic, and utterly alone.
"Clean yourself up," he commanded, turning back to his desk. "We have company. You'll stand by my side and play the part of the obedient bitch. If you say a word that isn't a greeting, I'll send the guards to the dungeon with a whip."
By noon, the grand foyer was filled with the scent of foreign wolves. I stood two steps behind Hughes, my head bowed, my hands folded in front of me. I wore a high necked dress to hide the marks of his grip on my neck, but I couldn't hide the paleness of my skin.
"The Alpha of the Crimson Moon Pack has arrived," the herald announced.
I kept my eyes on the floor until a pair of polished black boots stopped in front of us.
"Hughes. It's been too long," a deep, melodic voice said.
That voice. My heart stopped.
I looked up, and the world tilted.
Standing there, looking more powerful and handsome than the last time I'd seen him, was Rhian. He wasn't the lanky teenager I had spent my summers with anymore. He was a mountain of a man, his eyes glowing with a faint, restless gold.
Rhian. My first love. The man I was supposed to run away with before the war started. The man who had disappeared without a trace after his family's pack was decimated.
His eyes drifted from Hughes to me, and for a moment, the mask of the cold Alpha cracked. His eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he caught my scent.
"Kiel?" he whispered, his voice thick with shock.
Hughes's hand immediately shot out, wrapping around my waist and pulling me flush against his side. It wasn't a romantic gesture. It was a claim. A warning.
"You know my wife, Rhian?" Hughes asked, his voice dropping into a lethal, low growl.
Rhian didn't look at Hughes. He was staring at me as if he were seeing a ghost. "Your wife? Since when?"
"Since she became the payment for her father's sins," Hughes said, his fingers digging into my hip. "Why do you look so surprised? Did you think a Santosh would ever be anything more than a bargaining chip?"
Rhian stepped forward, his scent suddenly changing. It became heavy, dark, and dangerously wild. I realized then what the rumors were about. He was in his Feral Year. He was searching for his fated mate, and if he didn't find her, he would lose his mind to the wolf completely.
"Let go of her," Rhian said, his voice trembling with a rage that matched Hughes's.
Hughes stepped into Rhian's space, his chest puffed out, his Alpha aura exploding outward. "You're a guest in my house, Rhian. Don't forget that. I don't care how close you were in the past. She belongs to the Blackwood Pack now. She bears my mark."
"That isn't a mark," Rhian hissed, looking at the faint, jagged scar on my neck. "That's a wound. You're hurting her."
"I'm her Alpha. I can do whatever I want with her," Hughes spat. He turned to me, his eyes blazing. "Go to the dining hall, Kiel. Now."
"No," Rhian said, reaching out to grab my hand.
The moment his skin touched mine, a spark of electricity shot through my arm. It was a jolt of pure, raw energy that made my wolf howl in recognition. I gasped, pulling my hand away, but it was too late.
Hughes went still. Deadly still. He looked at my hand, then at Rhian, and then at me. His face contorted into something monstrous.
"What was that?" Hughes whispered, his voice vibrating with a jealousy so intense it felt like the walls were shaking.
"Nothing," I stammered, backing away.
"Don't lie to me!" Hughes roared. He grabbed me by the front of my dress and hauled me toward him. "Why did your scent just change? Why do you smell like him?"
Rhian didn't back down. He shifted, his bones popping as his wolf pushed to the surface. "Because she's not yours, Hughes. I don't care what paper you signed or what debt you're collecting."
Rhian looked me straight in the eyes, his gold irises burning. "She's my fated mate."
The silence that followed was deafening. Every wolf in the room froze. Hughes looked at me, his hand tightening on my throat, his face inches from mine.
"Is it true?" he hissed, his breath hot against my face. "Is that why you've been acting like a martyr? Because you were waiting for your real Alpha to come save you?"
"I didn't know," I cried, the tears finally falling. "Hughes, I swear, I didn't know."
Hughes looked at Rhian, then back at me. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. It wasn't the smile of a man who was hurt. It was the smile of a man who had just found a new way to torture his enemy.
"Fated mates," Hughes mused, his voice dangerously soft. "How poetic. The woman I hate most in the world belongs to my biggest rival."
He leaned in, biting my earlobe hard enough to make me yelp.
"Well, Rhian, it looks like you're going to have a very difficult visit," Hughes said, looking over his shoulder at his rival. "Because tonight, I'm going to do something I told myself I'd never do. I'm going to mark her properly. And I'm going to make sure you hear every single scream."
He turned and began dragging me toward the stairs, leaving Rhian standing in the foyer, his claws extending and his roar echoing through the mansion.