Abandoned Revenge

The cold seeped into my very bones, even through the thin straw mattress I slept on. I opened my eyes in complete darkness in the tiny room under the stairs, where the air always smelled of mold and old wood. My heart was already beating faster than usual—today was the day before the Blood Moon, and the entire Blackthorn castle was buzzing with anticipation. The alphas and their families were celebrating in advance, while we omegas and servants worked twice as hard to make everything shine. I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees. My long dark chestnut hair, braided simply for the night, was tangled, and I quickly smoothed it down. There was no need for a mirror—I knew what I looked like: pale skin, gray eyes always lowered, delicate features that looked tired and defenseless. Nineteen years old, and my whole life had been spent in the shadows. An omega by rank, an orphan by circumstance, a servant by destiny. Survival meant staying silent, keeping my eyes down, never allowing myself to believe in anything more. I put on my old gray dress, the rough fabric scratching my shoulders. Barefoot—as always in the mornings. I saved my shoes for work in the hall. I stepped out into the servants' corridor, where footsteps and whispers could already be heard. Ella, my only friend among the omegas, was waiting by the door with a bucket. “Alina,” she whispered, her brown eyes full of worry. “Garret’s already in the hall. Growling at everyone. We have to clean the great hall until it’s perfect today.” I nodded and took my own bucket—heavy, filled with icy water from the well. My hands went numb immediately from the cold. We walked together, our steps echoing in the silence. Ella was plump, with light brown hair, always trying to smile, but even she was quiet today. The Blood Moon was the night when alphas found their mates through the bond. For us omegas, it meant only more work: cleaning up after feasts, scrubbing floors stained with wine and blood from rituals. The great hall greeted us with cold and echoes. High vaulted ceilings lost in shadows, walls of gray stone, torches in iron rings hissing quietly. Long tables of dark oak lined the walls, the floor vast and stone, covered with yesterday’s remnants: bread crumbs, grease stains from meat, spilled wine, boot prints from the guards. The air was thick—smoke from the hearth mixed with sweat, wine, and leftover food. The fireplace in the corner still smoldered but gave no warmth. I dropped to my knees in the far corner, dipping my brush into the water. The cold pierced my fingers instantly, my hands turning red. I scrubbed the stone—slowly, thoroughly, each stroke sending pain through my shoulders and back. My knees ached from the hard floor, but I didn’t complain. Never. The other omegas worked in silence—hearts bowed, movements mechanical. No one spoke loudly. Garret could appear at any moment. He did, after an hour. His heavy footsteps thundered through the hall like thunder. Fifty years old, stocky, gray hair cropped short, rough hands callused from work and punishments. His scent—dust and sweat, an aura of authority among us lowers. He oversaw the omegas, beat us for mistakes, fawned over the alphas. “Graves!” he barked, stopping over me. His boot nudged the edge of my bucket, water sloshing out onto the floor, soaking my dress. I froze, eyes down. My heart pounded. “Slower than everyone, as always. The floor has to gleam for the rehearsal. The alphas are coming.” “Yes, Sir Garret,” I whispered, barely audible. “Louder!” His hand grabbed the collar of my dress, yanking me up. His face close—breath sour from ale, eyes angry. “You think your laziness will go unpunished before the Moon?” I shook my head, eyes on his boots. “No, sir. Sorry.” The slap came fast—palm across my cheek. Not hard, but stinging, my head jerking to the side, cheek burning with fire. Pain spread across my face, ringing in my ears. “Redo this section. And faster. Omegas like you are for the dirt.” He let go, and I fell back to my knees, palms splashing into the water. My dress soaked, cold seeping under the fabric, my body shivering. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. Not here. Not in front of him. Garret walked off, muttering about lazy girls. I grabbed the brush again, scrubbing harder. Hands red, knees aching more. Water splashed, the stone gradually darkening with cleanliness. Liam brought a new bucket—the messenger boy, fifteen, thin and quick. Dark hair, gray eyes—almost like mine. He set the bucket down silently, looked for a second—not at the floor, but at me. Strange. Then he left. Ella crawled closer during a break, when Garret was gone. “Hold on,” she whispered, handing me a rag. “He’s in a mood today. The Moon’s getting to everyone.” I nodded, my cheek still burning. “And if... they pick a replacement?” I whispered, not looking at her. Ella went quiet. Her hands trembled on the brush. “They might. One of the brides is sick. You’re... young, healthy.” My heart sank. No. Not me. I was invisible. The day dragged on endlessly. I washed, scrubbed, crawled on my knees across the entire hall. Torches burned, smoke stinging my eyes. The smell of water and stone mixed with my sweat. My back ached, knees bleeding under the dress from friction. By evening, the hall gleamed. Stone shining, tables clean. Garret returned for inspection. “Not bad,” he grunted. “But here.” His finger pointed at a tiny spot. “And you broke a cup yesterday, remember?” I nodded, heart dropping. His hand rose again. The slap to the other cheek—harder, head spinning, I fell to my side, palm on the cold stone. Pain pulsed, cheek numb then blazing. “Your place is in the dirt, Graves. Don’t forget. Especially before the Moon.” He left. Footsteps fading. I stayed on the floor, body shaking from cold and pain. Tears finally flowed—quietly, down my cheeks, salty on my lips. Humiliation burned hotter than the slap. Indifference—his, the pack’s—broke me. Ella helped me up, her hand warm. “Tomorrow... if they take you...” I didn’t answer. Just wiped my face with my sleeve. Helplessness crushed me. Fear—from the possible choice.