Alpha King's Innocent Queen

Her Saviour

3rd Person POV:

After dinner ended, everyone retired to their rooms, leaving Rosaleen alone in the kitchen. The silence wrapped around her like a familiar weight as she scrubbed the last of the utensils, her hands moving automatically despite the exhaustion settling in her limbs.

Just as she was rinsing a plate, a soft clearing of a throat echoed through the kitchen. The sudden sound startled her, making her grip on the plate falter for a second. She turned around quickly, her heart hammering against her ribs, only to see the girl standing in the doorway.

Instinct took over, and Rosaleen immediately reached for the scarf draped over her shoulder, ready to pull it over her face. But before she could, the girl stepped forward and gently caught her wrist.

“There’s no one here,” the girl said softly, her voice carrying an odd warmth that Rosaleen wasn’t used to. “You don’t need to hide.”

Rosaleen froze, her fingers still curled around the fabric. No one had ever told her that before. No one had ever given her permission to just… exist without shame.

The girl, seemingly sensing her hesitation, offered a small smile. “I’m Samantha Rodriguez,” she introduced herself. “The Royal Advocate and Gamma of the Royal Moon Pack.”

Rosaleen’s breath hitched at the title. A Gamma? A high-ranking warrior and a personal protector of the royal family? Why was she speaking to her?

Samantha tilted her head. “And you are?”

Rosaleen lowered her gaze, hesitating. Years of conditioning warned her not to speak freely, not to give her name unless asked by someone of higher rank. But something about Samantha—her patient expression, the lack of judgment in her eyes—made Rosaleen feel… safe.

“Rosaleen,” she finally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Rosaleen Smith.”

Samantha’s smile widened. “Rosaleen. That’s a beautiful name.”

Heat crept up Rosaleen’s cheeks, unused to such praise. But Samantha wasn’t done.

“I have to say, your cooking is incredible,” she added. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a perfectly seasoned meal before.”

Rosaleen blinked, caught off guard. Compliments weren’t something she received—ever. And then, Samantha said something even more unexpected.

“You know what? You need a nickname.”

Rosaleen’s eyes widened. “A… nickname?”

Samantha nodded, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… how about ‘Rosie’? It suits you.”

Rosaleen stared at her, completely stunned. No one had ever given her a nickname before. No one had ever thought about her enough to create something so… personal.

Samantha chuckled at her shocked expression. “Well? What do you think?”

Rosaleen’s lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to this—kindness, warmth, familiarity.

“You can give me one too,” Samantha prompted. “It’s only fair.”

Rosaleen stiffened. “I—I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Because she wasn’t allowed. Because she wasn’t worthy. Because she was supposed to stay silent and invisible.

“I just… I don’t know,” Rosaleen whispered.

Samantha crouched slightly, bringing them to eye level. “Come on, I won’t bite,” she said playfully. “Think of anything.”

Rosaleen hesitated again, but something about the way Samantha was looking at her—like she was waiting, like she actually wanted this—gave her courage she didn’t know she had.

“S-Sami?” she finally said. “I don’t know why, but… it sounds nice.”

Samantha grinned. “Sami, huh? I love it.”

Rosaleen’s chest tightened at the sincerity in her voice. She had done something she never thought she could—she had given someone a name, and they had accepted it with joy.

The moment settled between them, soft yet profound, before Samantha’s expression grew more serious.

“Rosie,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm, “how has life been for you in this pack?”

Rosaleen’s shoulders tensed, and the moment of warmth disappeared like a candle blown out by the wind. She lowered her head, gripping the hem of her dress.

“I… I don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Samantha’s gaze darkened, but not with anger—at least, not at Rosaleen.

“I saw how your aunt and grandmother treat you,” she continued, her tone careful. “Why do they act that way?”

Rosaleen’s pulse pounded. She knew she couldn’t answer that. Speaking ill of her family—or anyone in the pack—was a crime she wasn’t willing to commit. The punishment would be severe.

So, she said nothing.

Samantha exhaled, but instead of pressing further, she did something unexpected. She reached out and squeezed Rosaleen’s hand.

“I don’t know what they’ve told you, but you deserve better than this.”

Rosaleen’s eyes snapped up to her in shock.

“I mean it,” Samantha continued. “And I swear to you, I’ll get you out of here. No matter what.”

Rosaleen stared at her, her heart pounding for an entirely new reason now. Was it fear? Hope? Both? She wasn’t sure.

But for the first time in her life, someone was promising to save her.

And for the first time, she wanted to believe them.

It's the next morning when Rosaleen moved swiftly, barely making a sound as she crossed the compound. The Alpha of her pack-her pack-didn't allow any omega to live in the pack house. This had always been a bitter reality for her. Rosaleen was nothing more than a servant in the eyes of the pack. She had learned to accept her position long ago, her dreams crushed beneath the weight of society's expectations. Her family lived in a small, modest house-once built by her father, but now, it was more of a guest house than a home.

Every morning, Rosaleen would head to the pack house, her work there as constant as the moon's rise and set. She would clean every room, scrub every floor, dust the furniture, and wipe away the years of neglect that the house had suffered. Despite her best efforts, the pack house never truly felt like home. It was a place of high-status and high expectations, but none of them extended to her. She worked there for a meager wage that barely sustained her family's needs, but it was something. She even managed to save a little for emergencies, though she doubted that the small amount would ever be enough to change her circumstances.

Rosaleen worked in the shadows, keeping her face covered by her headscarf, the last defense against the sharp gazes of the pack. The other pack members had little respect for omegas, especially one who had dared to be born into this pack. They resented her for it. Rosaleen didn't let their whispers and sneers affect her anymore, but it was hard to forget the sharp glances they cast her way.

When she finally returned home, Rosaleen uncovered her head and rushed to her room, the cold weight of the day's work lifting off her shoulders. She shut the door behind her, stepping into the warmth of the small space. The room, despite its simplicity, was hers. There was comfort in the familiar scent of lavender that hung in the air, a reminder of her mother's love. She sighed, grateful for this tiny bit of solace.

After a quick shower to wash away the grime of the pack house, Rosaleen dressed herself in a black turtleneck dress with full sleeves, the fabric loose against her skin. It was a simple garment, but it served to hide her scars and bruises from the outside world. She braided her long hair loosely, a few strands falling softly against her forehead. With one final glance at herself in the mirror, Rosaleen went to the kitchen to prepare the breakfast.

The kitchen was small but functional. She started making pancakes for breakfast. As the aroma of pancake filled the air, Rosaleen began preparing the tea. The kettle whistled in the quiet house, signaling that the water was ready.

She worked quickly, not wanting to waste a moment. She heard voices from the living room, and she knew that her grandmother and aunt had woken up from their sleep. With a quick glance at the tray, she saw everything was ready. She carefully balanced the tray in her hands and walked to the dining room.

Veronica, her aunt, was sitting on her usual, her eyes cold as ever. She barely acknowledged Rosaleen as she set the tray down on the table in front of her.

"Go and call the guests," Veronica ordered, her voice sharp, as always.

Rosaleen nodded without saying a word and hurried toward the guest rooms. She first knocked on the door where Samantha was staying, hesitating for a moment before she spoke.

"I've prepared breakfast. Can you come to the living room? Grandma and Aunt are waiting for you. Also, please tell the boy who came with you to join us as well," Rosaleen said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Samantha answered cheerfully, "We'll be there in a few minutes."

Rosaleen nodded and walked back to the living room, mentally preparing herself for the rest of the day. She started serving the pancakes in different plates, her hands moving quickly as she tried to get everything just right. But as she was placing the last plate on the table, disaster struck.

The plate slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor in a mess of broken china. The sound echoed through the room like thunder, and Rosaleen's heart dropped into her stomach. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. She knew what was coming next.

Veronica's voice cut through the silence like a whip. "You broke my expensive plate!"

Before Rosaleen could react, her aunt was on her, her hand swinging with deadly accuracy. The slap connected with Rosaleen's cheek so hard that she was sent sprawling to the floor. Her hands were caught in the shards of the broken plate, and she cried out in pain as blood began to ooze from the wound.

Her eyes welled with tears, not just from the pain, but because the sight of her own blood brought back painful memories-the memory of her father's body, lifeless and covered in blood, the last time she saw him.

Just as Veronica raised her hand again, ready to strike, a strong hand gripped her wrist, stopping her mid-motion.

Rosaleen's eyes shot up, expecting the worst, but instead, she found herself looking up into Samantha's determined eyes. Samantha's grip on Veronica's wrist was unyielding, her expression a mixture of fury and control.

"Leave my hand!" Veronica snarled, but Samantha didn't release her, only tightened her hold on the wrist until Veronica's face contorted with pain.

"Let go of my daughter, Samantha!" Julie, Rosaleen's grandmother, yelled, but her voice held a tremor, a hint of fear. She could sense the power emanating from Samantha, could feel the air crackling with the raw energy of an Alpha's aura.

Samantha didn't flinch. Her voice was low and commanding as she addressed the group. "She broke the plate by mistake, but I will break this house by choice."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and even Julie took a step back. The room was thick with the tension of unspoken power. Samantha's eyes flashed golden, her wolf stirring just beneath the surface.

Rosaleen winced as she tried to stand, the sharp pieces of the plate still embedded in her skin. Samantha was immediately by her side, her hands gentle as she inspected the wound. "Leo," she called, her voice soft but urgent.

Leo, her assistant, rushed into the room with the first-aid kit. He handed it to Samantha, who began treating Rosaleen's wound with practiced precision. As she cleaned the cut, Rosaleen could feel the heat of Samantha's gaze on her, unwavering and full of concern.

"I'm fine," Rosaleen whispered, though she knew the lie wouldn't fool Samantha. The wound was deep, and it wasn't healing as it should.

"You're not fine," Samantha said sternly, her voice brokering no argument. "You need stitches."

Rosaleen opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Veronica's voice rang out in anger. "Who do you think you are, coming into my house and interfering in our family matters?"

Samantha's eyes turned cold, her grip tightening around Veronica's throat in an instant. "You shouldn't have raised your voice at me," Samantha growled. "I hate loud voices from termites like you. It would be easier for you if I just snapped your neck and shut you up completely."

The room seemed to freeze as Samantha's power surged, her Alpha aura suffocating everyone in the room. Julie, Veronica, and even Leo lowered their heads in submission, the tension thick in the air. Samantha was not just the Royal Advocate. She was the Gamma of the Royal Crescent Pack, and in this moment, she radiated the authority that came with her rank.

Samantha's eyes were fierce, glowing gold as she spoke. "No one here disrespects Rosaleen again. Not in my presence."

The fear in Veronica's eyes was evident, but her pride wouldn't let her back down. She was ready to retaliate, but Samantha's next words cut her off. "You're lucky I don't end this right now."

With a final, chilling look, Samantha released Veronica's throat, leaving the woman gasping for air. But before anyone could react, she turned to Rosaleen, her expression softening as she addressed her directly.

"Rosaleen, we're going to fix this. Don't you worry. You don't have to hide anymore."

Rosaleen nodded slowly, her heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude. She had never felt such power, such protection. For the first time, she wasn't just the silent servant. She wasn't alone.

And for the first time, she dared to hope.