Ariella’s POV
My fingers hovered over the screen for half a second…long enough for the whole hall to lean in like they were waiting for me to confess murder.
Then I resumed typing…making sure that my hand trembles slightly to sell the weak omega act.
The robotic voice came out steady, almost gentle.
“What I want, Your Majesty, is… Freedom. I don’t want to be a slave anymore. I want to be free. I don’t want to belong to any master or mistress. I want to be like every other normal pack member.”
I knew precisely what I was asking for.
Since the m******e that turned me into the only survivor from the Lunaris clan, I’ve been traded through more packs than most wolves see in a lifetime…passed like currency, used until broken, then sold again.
Branded an omega. Worse: branded a slave-omeg
