Agatha’s POV
The first day they dragged me into the pack house to start work, I thought it was a joke. Me? Labor work? Scrubbing floors, serving food like some maid? No. That wasn’t for me. I was Agatha
. I was feared once. People lowered their heads when I walked by. I had power. I had respect. I had fear on my side. I wasn’t some useless servant meant to carry buckets of water.
But they didn’t care who I was before. The Alphas made sure of that. They looked at me like I was nothing. They wanted me to suffer, and they knew exactly where to start. They shoved a broom into my hands and pointed at the floor.
“Start cleaning.”
Just like that. Like I was some slave.
I stared at them, and I could feel my chest tighten. Cleaning floors? Washing dishes? Carrying food? No. That wasn’t going
