Oh Christmas Eve Why Me

chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Alex

The heavy door slammed shut behind the guards, and the iron lock clicked loudly, sounding like a bone snapping. I stood trapped in the dark for a few endless seconds, my breath fogging the cold air in front of my face, before my legs finally gave out.

I hit the rough stone floor hard. The room they had thrown me into was barely bigger than a small coffin. A thin, dirty straw mattress rested in one corner, a cracked window let cold air and snow blow directly inside, and a single iron ring was bolted to the wall—a place meant for chaining disobedient dogs, or useless bastards like me.

I painfully crawled toward the mattress anyway, pulling my knees tight to my chest as I desperately tried to stop shaking. The mark on my chest still burned hot, the black wolf and sharp thorns pulsing as if they had their own steady heartbeat. Enemy. Shadow Pack. The words echoed relentlessly in my head.

Who was my mother truly with? Who is my father?

The wind pushed through the broken window and dumped another handful of wet snow onto the back of my neck. I didn't bother to brush it off. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying the way King Alaric had looked at me, treating me like dirt stuck to the bottom of his boots.

The door suddenly flew open with a crash.

A woman stepped inside, holding a lantern that made the shadows jump nervously across the walls. It was Head Cook Marta. She was about fifty winters old, with arms as thick and strong as logs, and a face that looked carved from the same cold, unforgiving stone as the palace itself.

When I was younger, I used to sneak into her kitchen, and she would sometimes slip me small honey cakes when no one was watching. But those days were clearly gone forever.

She set the lantern down on the floor and stared at me like I was a disease-ridden rat she had discovered hiding in the walls.

“Get up, you stupid slut,” she said, her voice sharp and cruel.

I stayed on the floor and replied quietly, “Good to see you too, Marta.”

She crossed the room in two long, angry steps and grabbed my arm, yanking me up so hard that my shoulder almost popped out of its socket. “Don’t talk to me like you’re still somebody important,” she snapped, her eyes narrowed.

“You think you can lie here feeling sorry for yourself while the real royals are celebrating upstairs?” She shoved her face so close to mine I could smell sour wine and old onions on her breath. “You’re lucky the king didn’t just throw you to the wolves outside the gates.”

I tried to pull my arm away, but her grip was like steel. “Did you come here just to insult me,” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, “or is there something you actually want me to do?”

Her laugh was harsh and loud. “Oh, there is a clear point, bastard girl.” She grabbed my wrist again, twisted it sharply until I gasped in pain, and forced my hand open.

“Christmas is in five days. Princess Seraphine arrives tomorrow to stand beside her future mate, our true prince. Soon she’ll be the Luna of this entire pack.” She leaned even closer, her voice dropping. “And you? You are going to bow, you are going to scrape, and you are going to remember every second that you are lower than the dirt under my boots.”

I tried to escape her grip again, but she held on tighter, her fingers digging painfully into my skin.

“Listen very carefully,” she said, her voice turning icy cold. “You have exactly one minute to get out of this room and go down to the scullery. The pots need scrubbing before dawn. If you’re not there, I’ll go straight to the king and tell him his little Shadow Wolf w***e threatened to kill us all in our sleep and run back to her real family.”

My jaw clenched so tight that I tasted my own blood. Rage climbed up my throat like acid. I desperately wanted to scream. I wanted to hit her. I wanted to do something—anything—to make her release me. Instead, I forced the necessary words out.

“I understand what you need,” I said, my voice barely a tight whisper.

Her smile stretched wide across her face, showing all her teeth. “Good girl,” she said, patting my cheek in a sickeningly mocking way.

She finally let go of my wrist, then aggressively wiped her hand on her apron as though touching me had completely dirtied her, and walked toward the door. At the doorway, she paused and turned her head slightly back toward me.

“Welcome to the rest of your life, Alex,” she said in a cold, final voice.

Then she left, slamming the door behind her. The lock clicked again, sealing me in.

I stood there staring at the empty doorway long after she was completely gone. The weak light from her lantern faded slowly down the corridor until the entire cellar fell completely dark again. The intense cold from the broken window pushed harder into the small room, making me shiver violently.

I looked down at the mattress again. It was thin, it was dirty, and it was now wet from the snow drifting in. This was where I would sleep now. This room, this cold, this unbearable life—this was truly all I had left.

What was even the point of fighting anymore? What was the point of hoping?

I had lost everything important in one single night—my name, my place, my family, and any tiny chance of belonging.

Kaelan didn’t move a muscle to stop it from happening. He didn’t say one word. He just stood there and watched me fall, watched them drag me away. Maybe he truly never saw me as anything more than the maid’s mistake. Maybe I was the only fool who ever believed I had a place in that grand palace.

My hands curled into tight fists, and the mark on my chest pulsed once more, sharp and intensely hot. I pressed my palm hard over it, but the burning only got worse. It almost felt like the black mark was truly alive. Like it wanted something specific from me. Like it was trying to remind me of something I wasn’t ready to hear yet.

Maybe this upcoming Christmas wasn’t for me after all.