Chapter 6
1127 Words
Gwen
Jordan’s house wasn’t big—two bedrooms, one bath, and a kitchen that still smelled faintly of cinnamon and coffee—but the moment I stepped through the door with my single duffel bag, it felt more like home than the place I’d grown up.
It was quiet. Peaceful. No stern voices barking orders. No reminders of expectations I was born into but never asked for.
Jordan was already in motion, fluffing the spare bed pillows with an energy that made me smile despite everything.
“This is silly,” I said, setting my bag on the floor. “I could’ve made the bed.”
“Too late,” she said, tossing a blanket over the corner with flair. “I'm trying to use my energy on things that don't include punching Justin in the face.”
I snorted. “It’s not too late.”
Jordan paused, her eyes softening as she turned to face me. “You doing okay?”
I hesitated. Then nodded. “Better. Being here... it helps.”
Jordan gave me a long, measured look—the kind you’d expect from someone who’d seen too much, too young. Her old pack had been razed by rogues two years ago. Half of them were dead before Alpha Karl “absorbed” what was left. She’d been seventeen. Alone. Her father—also a Beta—had died defending the border.
Karl had expected her to fold. Instead, she trained harder. Fought harder. She rose like a phoenix from ash.
“No pressure to talk,” she said. “Or cry. But just so you know—if you ever need to do either, I stock emergency wine and chocolate.”
I smirked. “Goddess bless you.”
“I mean it, Gwen. I know what it’s like—being raised to serve, to obey. But you’ve got fight in you. So if you need help finding it again…” She shrugged. “You’re not alone anymore.”
For a moment, I felt something settle in my chest. Not peace—but the start of it.
“Now come on. I’m making pancakes. I might set off the smoke alarm, but I expect moral support.” Jordan clapped her hands.
“I’ll bring the fire extinguisher,” I said, and for the first time in days, I meant the smile that curled on my lips.
Terrance
I stood stiffly across from Karl’s desk, the smell of cigar smoke and aged whiskey coiling in the air like a threat. My Alpha was in one of his moods—the dangerous, calculating kind. I knew better than to interrupt when he paced.
“She’s slipping through your fingers,” he said, voice like gravel. “And if you don’t fix it, I’ll do it my way.”
My jaw tightened. “She’s my daughter, Karl. She just needs time to—”
“To what?” he snapped. “Run wild? Think for herself? Move out like she’s not still under our thumb?”
I didn’t answer. My silence was safer than another excuse.
He turned toward the window, watching the patrols switch out in the yard below. “We needed her with Justin. That pairing wasn’t just convenient—it was necessary. She legitimizes his claim. She binds your bloodline to mine. She makes him palatable to the rest of the pack.”
He spun back to face me, disgust etched deep into every line of his face.
“But instead of keeping his damn d**k in his pants, my son lets the mate bond snap… with an Omega.”
“She works in the kitchens,” I said weakly. “She’s harmless.”
“She’s a liability,” Karl growled. “Do you know how pathetic it looks? A future Alpha mated to a submissive little Omega girl who makes breakfast and blushes? He should’ve fought it. We had a plan.”
I looked at the floor, throat dry. “Justin said… he thought Gwen might be his mate.”
Karl scoffed. “He hoped she was. You both did. Because that would’ve made this easy. But nothing about this is easy now.”
He poured another drink, slow and deliberate, letting the clink of ice fill the silence. Then he looked up, eyes sharp and cold. “But we’ve got bigger issues. One of my contacts in the palace reached out—there’s an inquiry forming. Quiet. Off the books. The King and Queen are sniffing around packs that might be violating the Omega Protection Decree.”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
“They’re coming for us?”
“They don’t know it’s us. Yet. But if Gwen keeps stirring s**t, if she keeps asking questions or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, we’ll all be exposed.”
I swallowed hard. The brothel. The girls. The clients. My silence. All of it.
Karl stepped closer, lowering his voice to a snarl. “So get her back in line, Terrance. I don’t care if you have to beg, bribe, or break her. She accepts Justin’s proposal at the Winter Ball and plays her part. Or I swear to the Goddess, I’ll throw her in with the rest of the Omega bitches. And I’ll make you watch.”
My breath caught, but I kept my face blank. Numb. I couldn’t show fear. Not here. Not in front of him.
“Yes, Alpha,” I said quietly.
I told myself I was doing this to protect her. But deep down, a voice I tried to ignore whispered that maybe I’d become exactly the kind of man I used to despise.
Third Person POV
It had been raining the night they brought her in.
Olivia remembered the cold first. Then the silence.
She’d been led through the back entrance of the brothel by a man with too-tight gloves and a smile like poison. Inside, the air was heavy with perfume, sweat, and something metallic.
Mara, the house’s Omega manager, gave her a too-bright smile. “You’re pretty,” she’d said. “That’ll help.”
Olivia didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was raw from screaming the night before.
“This one’s for upstairs,” Mara had told someone. “Karl likes them scared.”
The first time, it had been him.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile.
Afterward, Olivia had curled into a corner of the bunkroom, hands shaking, teeth clenched so tight she thought they’d shatter. Elia, another Omega, had sat beside her and held her hand in the dark.
“He doesn’t come every night,” Elia had whispered. “But he never forgets who cried.”
The worst part wasn’t the pain. It was knowing no one would stop it.
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