CLAIMED BY THE BANISHED ALPHA

Adjusting

ELODIE’S POV

Morning in the Omega wing began before the sun; I learned that quickly. It was like nothing I had ever experienced and nothing I had ever imagined. In here, it didn’t matter what my parents were out there of if they existed at all. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t an orphan. The only thing that mattered was what Dante said about us…the only thing that mattered was how he felt about us. It only mattered who he said we were, and only he could decide how important we were.

A bell rang somewhere down the corridor while the sky outside my small window was still dark. The sound echoed through the narrow halls, followed by doors opening and footsteps moving quickly across the stone floor.

No one lingered. No one complained. Everyone simply moved. This was a life that they had been living since they were born. They probably didn’t even need to be trained for this because they probably saw their parents do these things. My parents had their own house and even had omegas that did things for us. I obviously needed training, but no one here was willing or planning to give it to me.

I sat up slowly on the narrow bed, my muscles stiff from the unfamiliar mattress and the previous day’s work. For a moment I didn’t remember where I was. Then the room came into focus. The cracked wooden trunk. The thin blanket. The cold stone walls. And the truth settled back over me. Omega wing. I forced myself out of bed.

By the time I reached the communal hall, most of the other Omegas were already working. Some carried baskets of laundry. Others moved trays of food toward the kitchens. The woman supervising the morning duties barely looked at me before speaking.

“You’re late.”

“I—”

“Laundry room,” she interrupted sharply. “Now.”

I nodded and hurried down the corridor. The laundry room was already thick with steam. Several large basins were filled with hot water, and the scent of soap hung heavily in the air. One of the Omegas glanced at me when I entered. Recognition flickered across her face.

“So it’s true,” she murmured.

I pretended not to hear. Another Omega leaned closer to her.

“That’s her,” she whispered. “The one from the Alpha wing… I heard she was sleeping with him”

“Served more that she was supposed to, didn’t she?”

“Look at her now.”

Their voices weren’t loud.

But they didn’t need to be. I kept my head down and picked up the first basket of laundry. The fabric was heavier than I expected, soaked and stiff. My arms protested immediately as I lowered the clothes into the basin and began scrubbing. Water splashed across the front of my dress.

Minutes passed. Then hours. My hands burned from the soap, and the skin around my knuckles had already split open again from the friction. No one offered help. No one slowed down for me. When the first load was finished, another basket appeared beside me. Then another. By midday, my shoulders ached so badly I could barely lift my arms.

“Move,” someone snapped when I paused too long.

I shifted aside quickly. The work never stopped. Laundry turned into cleaning.

Cleaning turned into carrying food trays to the main dining hall. That was when the humiliation deepened. Because Omegas didn’t eat first. They served.

I stood near the long table with a tray of bread balanced carefully in my hands as wolves from the upper ranks filtered into the hall. Most of them didn’t look at me. A few did. Recognition flickered in their eyes before they quickly looked away. Whispers followed them.

“Wasn’t she—”

“Damon’s—”

“I heard she lied—”

“Look where she ended up.”

I focused on the tray on breathing. On not letting my hands shake. Then the room shifted. The quiet ripple of respect that moved through the hall was unmistakable. Alpha. I didn’t need to look up to know who had entered. My heart betrayed me anyway, beating harder in my chest. Footsteps approached the head of the table. A second set of lighter footsteps beside them.

Nyra. Of course. Someone near me bowed quickly.

“My Alpha.”

I lowered my gaze and stepped forward to place the tray on the table. I didn’t look at him. I wouldn’t. Not after everything. Not after the way he had spoken about me as if I wasn’t even there. But the bond didn’t care about pride.

It stirred the moment he came close. Alive. Aware. And painfully familiar. I placed the tray down carefully. My fingers brushed the edge of the table. That was when I noticed it. Damon’s hand. Resting on the table’s surface.

Still…but tense.

His knuckles were white against the wood. Nyra’s voice broke the silence.

“Alpha, would you like the bread?”

There was something deliberate in the way she said it. A performance. I stepped back immediately.

“Yes,” Damon replied.

His voice was calm. Controlled. Distant. Exactly the way it had been every time he spoke to me lately. I turned away before he could look at me. If he looked at all. Behind me, Nyra spoke again.

“Strange seeing familiar faces in unfamiliar places.”

I knew she meant me. Damon didn’t respond. Or if he did, I didn’t hear it. Because I was already walking toward the kitchen again. One tray replaced with another. Another task waiting. Another reminder of exactly where I stood now.

Servant. Omega. Forgotten.

And the worst part was realizing something slowly, painfully clear. Damon had watched me serve his table. And he had done nothing. Not even acknowledged that I was there, it was as if he had set this up so that he could prove to Nyra that he could ignore me. Maybe to prove that the bond was too weak to control him. But the bond wasn’t too weak..not for me at-least. Because it screamed every time he was in the same vicinity as me.

The bond pulsed faintly in my chest. But for the first time since it awakened… It felt weaker. Like something slowly learning to live without being answered.