He Treated Me As Trash, I Ruled As Queen

Chapter 2: Blood for the Luna

The transition from Luna to the lowest Omega servant was swift and merciless.

When dawn broke, a heavy bucket of freezing water was splashed over my shivering form. I gasped, scrambling backward on the lumpy cot, my bruised and cut knees screaming in protest. Standing over me was Martha, the head housekeeper. For three years, she had bowed and curtsied to me, bringing me warm tea and fresh pastries. Now, her face was contorted into a sneer of pure disdain.

"Get up, you useless mute," she barked, throwing a coarse, scratchy gray rag at my face. "The real Luna is craving fresh venison, and the kitchens are a mess. You're on scrubbing duty. All the floors in the east wing. And if I see a single speck of dirt, you won't eat for three days."

I dressed in silence, the rough fabric chafing against my bruised skin. My neck throbbed. The Mate mark, once a vibrant, pulsing gold that tied me to Kaelen, was now a sickly, necrotic gray. Every movement pulled at the fading bond, sending sharp needles of phantom pain through my chest.

When I reached the kitchens, the harassment began immediately. The other Omegas and servants, eager to prove their loyalty to the new regime, went out of their way to make my life a living hell. As I knelt on the hard stone floors with a bucket of soapy water, they would intentionally kick over the dirty slop pails right where I had just cleaned.

"Oops. Sorry, Elara," a young Beta girl giggled, dropping a handful of muddy boots into my clean water. "Guess you'll have to start over. Oh, wait, you can't even complain about it, can you?"

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper, keeping my head down. My hands were blistered and raw from the harsh lye soap, but I kept scrubbing. I had to survive. I didn't know why, or what for, but the tiny, unfamiliar spark that had ignited in my chest the night before demanded that I keep breathing. It was a strange, vibrating warmth, entirely disconnected from the cold emptiness of my dying wolf.

By the time midnight rolled around, my body was entirely broken. I dragged myself back to the damp basement cell, collapsing onto the cot without even taking off the wet, filthy servant's dress. I closed my eyes, praying for the escape of sleep.

But peace was a luxury the Bloodmoon Pack would not grant me.

The heavy iron door of my cell didn't just open; it exploded inward, the hinges screaming as the metal slammed violently against the stone wall.

I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Kaelen stood in the doorway, a towering silhouette of absolute terror. He was shirtless, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a frantic, unhinged golden light. He didn't say a word. He crossed the small room in two long, predatory strides.

Before I could even raise my hands to defend myself, his large, rough hand shot out and clamped around my throat.

My breath was cut off instantly. He hauled me off the bed with one hand, my bare feet kicking the air. The sheer force of his grip pressed directly against my rotting Mate mark, sending a shockwave of agonizing heat straight into my brain. I clawed frantically at his arm, my mouth opening in a silent, desperate plea.

"Lyra is hemorrhaging," he growled, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated through my very bones. "The pup's Alpha energy is too strong for her white wolf to contain. She needs stabilization."

He didn't explain further. He just dragged me out of the cell. I stumbled and tripped, my bare toes scraping against the rough cobblestones of the corridor, but his grip never loosened. He hauled me up the stairs and out into the biting night air, dragging me like a sacrificial lamb toward the bright white lights of the pack hospital.

Panic seized my chest. I knew what happened in the hospital. I had spent hours studying the pack's medical lore when I was trying to be a good Luna. There was only one way an Omega could stabilize an Alpha pregnancy in a weaker vessel.

Heartblood.

The realization hit me with the force of a freight train. Heartblood wasn't just blood. It was the purest, most concentrated essence of a wolf's life force, drawn directly from the chamber just above the heart. It was an archaic, forbidden practice. For an Omega, whose life force was already fragile, the extraction was essentially a death sentence. It drained the soul as much as the body.

I thrashed wildly, planting my feet on the ground, trying to twist out of Kaelen's grip. No! No! You can't do this! You'll kill me! I screamed the words in my mind, but only strained, pathetic wheezes escaped my lips.

Kaelen didn't even look back. He simply jerked his arm, the force nearly dislocating my shoulder, and dragged me through the sliding glass doors of the emergency ward.

Lyra lay in the center of the room on a pristine white bed. She looked pale, her skin slick with sweat, letting out small, pitiful whimpers. But as I caught a glimpse of her eyes over the oxygen mask, I saw it. A brief, triumphant gleam. She wasn't dying. She was putting on the performance of a lifetime to ensure I was entirely erased from Kaelen's life.

The pack's chief doctor, an elderly Beta named Silas, stood by the bed, looking extremely pale and nervous. He held a thick, terrifyingly long needle tipped with solid silver. Attached to the needle was a heavy crystal vial engraved with ancient runic wards.

"Alpha," Doctor Silas stammered, his eyes darting to my bruised, terrified face. "I must warn you again. The Omega is already severely malnourished and physically traumatized. Taking her heartblood tonight... her body might not survive the shock. The silver alone will cause her unimaginable agony."

"I don't care," Kaelen commanded without a microsecond of hesitation.

The three words shattered whatever fragile, pathetic remnants of love I still harbored for him. I don't care. He was willing to murder me, his fated Mate, just to humor his mistress's feigned weakness.

"If Lyra loses this pup," Kaelen continued, his voice cold and flat, "I will hold you personally responsible, Silas. Draw the blood. Now."

My eyes widened in absolute terror. I backed away, shaking my head violently, tears blurring my vision. I turned to run toward the door, my survival instinct overriding my fear of the Alpha.

"Hold her down!" Kaelen roared.

Two burly Enforcers, who had been guarding the door, lunged forward. They grabbed my arms, their heavy hands bruising my biceps, and slammed me backward onto a cold, steel operating table adjacent to Lyra’s bed.

I fought with everything I had. I kicked, I bit, I twisted like a feral animal. My silent screams tore at my raw throat. I looked at Kaelen, locking eyes with him, pleading with everything in my soul. Look at me. Look at what you are doing to me.

Kaelen stepped up to the table and leaned over me. His golden eyes were devoid of any warmth, any hesitation. He wasn't looking at a woman he had once sworn to protect; he was looking at a blood bag.

"Still," he commanded.

He unleashed the full, devastating power of his Alpha aura directly into my mind. It was a psychic hammer. My muscles instantly locked into place. Paralysis swept over me, freezing my limbs against the cold steel. I couldn't move a single finger. I couldn't even blink. But my nervous system was wide awake. I would feel everything.

The doctor approached, his hands shaking slightly as he aimed the thick, silver-tipped needle at the center of my chest, just above my sternum.

"Forgive me, Luna," the old doctor whispered so quietly that only I could hear.

He plunged the silver needle into my flesh.

The pain was biblical.

It wasn't a sharp prick; it was an explosion of molten lava inside my chest cavity. The silver burned through my skin, my muscle, and scraped against my bone, rejecting my wolf biology. I arched violently off the table, the Alpha command breaking for a fraction of a second under the sheer magnitude of the agony. My mouth opened in a wide, horrific scream that made no sound, my vocal cords straining until they bled.

As the needle breached the chamber near my heart, the true horror began.

It felt as if a physical hand had reached into my chest and was pulling my soul out through the narrow tube. Every drop of the dark, rich crimson blood that flowed into the crystal vial took a piece of my memories, my warmth, my very will to live. I felt my body temperature plummet. Ice crept up from my toes, freezing my blood vessels, turning my skin the color of ash.

I stared at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights blinding me, while tears streamed constantly down the sides of my face.

Kaelen stood by the table, watching the vial fill. His expression was completely unreadable. When the crystal vial was full to the brim with my dark red life essence, he immediately snatched it from the doctor's hands. He didn't look at my pale, lifeless face. He didn't check my pulse. He simply turned his back on me and rushed to Lyra's side.

"Drink this, my love," Kaelen cooed, his voice suddenly soft and dripping with affection. "It will make you strong. It will protect our pup."

The doctor hastily withdrew the silver needle from my chest, pressing a piece of gauze over the puncture wound. But the damage was done. The paralysis of the Alpha command faded, leaving me limp, broken, and hollowed out.

I lay on the cold metal table, gasping for shallow, thready breaths. Black spots danced violently at the edges of my vision. The room began to spin. I could hear Lyra murmuring sweet praises to Kaelen, the sound muffled as if underwater. They had already forgotten I was in the room. I was discarded refuse.

My heartbeat slowed. Thump... pause... thump...

I was dying. I could feel the tether of my life fraying, ready to snap. The deep, crushing darkness of death reached out to embrace me, promising an end to the humiliation and the pain. I wanted to let go. I wanted to close my eyes and never wake up.

But then, it happened again.

Deep within the freezing void of my chest, beneath the agonizing pain of the needle wound, the strange spark flared. Only this time, it wasn't a flutter.

It was a violent, seismic shift.

A loud, sharp c***k echoed in the depths of my mind, drowning out the beeping of the hospital monitors. It sounded like an ancient glacier splitting down the middle. A surge of terrifying, unfamiliar heat shot through my veins, pushing back the ice. It wasn't the submissive warmth of an Omega. It was a raging, ancient inferno.

My dormant wolf didn't whimper. It didn't wake up. It was simply consumed, absorbed by something infinitely more powerful that was beginning to stir in its place.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. But as my eyes slipped shut and I fell into the dark abyss of unconsciousness, I knew one thing with absolute, terrifying certainty.

The Omega Elara was dead. But the thing wearing her skin was just waking up.