Grace
The Vale pack house has always bent around me. Doors open before I reach them. Voices lower. Eyes drop. Even now, as I walk its corridors with measured steps and my chin lifted just so, the pack responds the way it always has, unquestioning my authority.
This is mine. I was born to rule this place.
I'm already irritated when I hear it. The sound of whispering voices drifting from the servants' hall. They sound too animated, too careless. Omegas forget themselves when they think they're unseen. When they think their words don't matter.
I don't stop at first. Then I hear her name mixed in with their giggles.
"…Fern."
My foot catches mid-step.
The name slices through me with surgical precision, and my body reacts before my mind can catch up. I stop dead in the cor
