The Alpha's Contract

The bruise on my ribs screamed when I reached for the high shelf in the kitchen. Purple and yellow painted my side like a sick artist's masterpiece—Marcus's handiwork from yesterday when I'd taken too long preparing lunch. Six years of this, and my body had become a canvas of pain. "Maya! Where's my breakfast?" Marcus's voice boomed from the dining hall. I grabbed the plate with shaking hands. The eggs were perfect, the toast golden—I'd learned that anything less meant consequences. My bare feet padded silently across the cold marble floor. Once, I'd worn shoes in this house. Once, I'd sat at that very table as the Alpha's daughter. Now I was nothing. The dining hall stretched before me, all dark wood and memories. Four pack members sat around the table, their conversation stopping when I entered. Derek, Marcus's beta, smirked at me. His favorite game was tripping me when I served, watching me scramble to save the dishes while everyone laughed. "About time, omega," Marcus said without looking up from his phone. At twenty-six, my brother had our father's strong jaw but none of his kindness. "We have important guests coming today. The Dalton Pack." My stomach dropped. The Dalton Pack was legendary—their Alpha, Crew Dalton, was known for being ruthless in business and battle. If Marcus was nervous enough to mention it, this meeting was crucial. "You will serve dinner tonight," Marcus continued, finally looking at me with those cold amber eyes. "If you embarrass me, if you so much as breathe wrong, I'll make yesterday's punishment look like a gentle pat. Understood?" "Yes, Alpha," I whispered, setting his plate down carefully. Derek's foot shot out. I saw it coming this time, stepping over it smoothly. His face darkened at missing his fun. "Clumsy omega," he muttered. I retreated to the kitchen, my sanctuary in this prison. The head cook, Marta, was the only person who showed me any kindness, though she had to hide it. She was human, married into the pack, and knew what it was like to be an outsider. "You okay, honey?" she whispered, noting my careful movements. "I'm fine." The lie came easily after so many years. "The Dalton Alpha is coming tonight," she said, stirring a pot of soup. "I heard he's looking to expand territory. Your brother needs this deal." I scrubbed dishes, thinking about tonight. Important dinners meant more chances to mess up, more opportunities for punishment. My wolf—or what remained of her after Marcus stripped most of her away—whimpered inside me. She was barely a whisper now, just enough to let me heal faster than humans but not enough to shift or defend myself. The day passed in a blur of cleaning, cooking, and avoiding pack members who enjoyed tormenting me. By evening, my hands were raw from scrubbing floors with harsh chemicals—another of Marcus's special punishments. I'd had to make the house spotless for our guests. At six o'clock sharp, cars pulled into our driveway. Through the kitchen window, I watched three black SUVs park in perfect formation. The doors opened simultaneously, and five wolves stepped out. Four were clearly guards, but the fifth... Alpha Crew Dalton stood at least six-foot-four, his black suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. Even from here, I could feel his power radiating like heat from a fire. He moved with the controlled grace of a predator who knew he was the apex. When he turned toward the house, I caught a glimpse of his face—sharp jawline, dark hair, and eyes that looked gray even from this distance. "Maya!" Marcus barked from the foyer. "Get in here!" I hurried out, keeping my head down as Marcus greeted his guests. The energy in the room was electric, dominant wolves sizing each other up. "Alpha Dalton," Marcus said with false warmth. "Welcome to the Reed Pack." "Alpha Reed." The voice was deep, controlled. It made something in my chest tighten. "Thank you for hosting." "This is my beta, Derek, and you've met my gamma, Paul. And this"—Marcus's voice turned dismissive—"is the omega who'll be serving us tonight." I kept my eyes on the floor, standard protocol for omegas, but I felt Alpha Dalton's gaze on me. The weight of it was different from the usual disgusted or dismissive looks I received. It was... curious. "Let's discuss business over dinner," Marcus said, leading them to the dining room. I escaped to the kitchen, helping Marta with final preparations. My hands shook as I arranged the plates. Something about Alpha Dalton's presence unsettled me in a way I couldn't explain. The first course went smoothly. I served in silence, invisible as Marcus had trained me to be. The men discussed territory lines and trade agreements, their voices a low rumble of negotiation. Alpha Dalton spoke rarely, but when he did, everyone listened. It was during the main course that everything went wrong. I was refilling wine glasses, reaching across to serve Alpha Dalton, when Derek deliberately knocked my elbow. The wine bottle tilted, red liquid splashing across Alpha Dalton's white shirt and suit jacket. The room froze. "I'm sorry!" The words tumbled out as I grabbed napkins, my hands shaking violently. "I'm so sorry, Alpha, I didn't mean—" Marcus was on his feet instantly, his face purple with rage. "You worthless—" His hand raised to strike me. But it never landed. Alpha Dalton's hand caught Marcus's wrist mid-swing, his movement so fast I barely saw it. "I believe accidents happen," Alpha Dalton said quietly, but his voice carried enough threat to make Marcus step back. "No harm done." Marcus's jaw clenched. "She needs to learn—" "She needs to get me a clean shirt," Alpha Dalton interrupted, standing. His ruined shirt clung to what was clearly an impressive physique beneath. "I assume you have guest accommodations?" "Of course," Marcus said through gritted teeth. "Maya, show Alpha Dalton to the guest wing. And find him appropriate clothing." I nodded, still trembling, and led Alpha Dalton out of the dining room. We walked in silence down the hallway, my bare feet silent beside his confident steps. When we were out of earshot, he spoke. "How long has he been hitting you?" I stopped walking, my heart hammering. "I don't know what you mean, Alpha." "Your ribs are bruised. You're favoring your left side. There are old scars on your arms you're trying to hide with those long sleeves." His storm-gray eyes studied me with an intensity that made me want to run. "How long?" "It's pack business," I whispered. "I'm an omega. It's... normal." "It's abuse," he said flatly. "And you're not just an omega. You're Maya Reed. I remember you from inter-pack gatherings years ago. You were being groomed as a future pack leader." My throat closed. "That was before." "Before what?" "Before I killed my parents." The words hung between us like a blade. His expression didn't change—no disgust, no horror, just that same intense study. "Did you?" he asked simply. No one had ever asked me that. They'd all just assumed, believed Marcus's version of events. I opened my mouth, closed it, then whispered the truth I'd never dared speak. "I don't know. I don't remember that night. I woke up outside the burning house with blood on my hands, and Marcus said... he said I did it." Alpha Dalton was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Show me to the guest room. We'll get cleaned up, and then we're going to have a very interesting dinner conversation with your brother." Something in his tone made my wolf stir—the first real movement I'd felt from her in years. I led him to the guest wing, my mind spinning. What did he mean by interesting conversation? And why did he look at me like I was a puzzle he intended to solve?