Luna
The walk to the maid headquarters was grueling. My legs felt like jelly, my stomach churned with nausea, and my mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, anger, humiliation—it all simmered under the surface. I stumbled a few times, and one of the guards barked at me to keep moving. I bit back a retort.
When we arrived, the scent of soap and something faintly floral greeted me. The maids’ quarters were stark but clean, a sharp contrast to the grimy cages we’d been held in. Women bustled about, some in uniforms, others waiting their turn, their expressions a mixture of dread and resignation.
“New batch,” the guard grunted, shoving us forward.
A tall woman stepped out from the shadows. She wore a crisp, dark dress and her silver-streaked hair was tied in a severe bun. Her sharp eyes ra
