The Omega I Humiliated Became an Alpha… and They Forced Me to Be His Luna

Chapter 3 – Guest or Prisoner

They give me a room with a window.

It shouldn’t surprise me. Even when they drag an enemy into our Hall, we don’t throw them straight into chains. There are forms to keep. Faces to save.

But I still stand on the threshold and stare, fingers numb around the strap of my bag.

The house is wood, not stone. The floors creak softly under my boots. The room they assign me is small by Vaelan standards—bed, narrow wardrobe, a table under the window, a rug the color of autumn leaves—but it’s clean. Lived‑in. There’s a faint scent of soap and smoke and… wolf. Not mine. Not his. Someone else’s. Borrowed space.

Jarik jerks his thumb toward the interior. “This is yours. For now.”

I step inside. The mattress dips under my weight when I sit, springs sighing. In the Hall, my bed never dared make a sound.

“Am I allowed to leave it?” I ask, keeping my tone light. “Or should I practice pacing in circles and talking to the walls?”

One corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re allowed to leave. With an escort.” He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, scar catching the light. “Alpha’s orders.”

“Of course.” I unclasp my cloak, fold it over my arm so he won’t see my hands shake. “Can’t have the pretty gift bruising herself before you decide whether to return her.”

His gaze flicks over me, less like a man looking at a woman and more like a guard sizing up a threat.

“Trust me, princess,” he says. “No one here wants you broken. Yet.”

The door shuts with a quiet click when he leaves.

For a long moment, I just sit there, listening to my own breath. My wolf searches the air for him—Rowan—but his scent is only a faint echo under the heavier weave of pack, smoke, pine.

“I’m not here for him,” I tell her, because someone has to hear the lie. “We’re here for our pack.”

She doesn’t answer. She just curls in on herself, bewildered and aching.

I rise and cross to the window. Glass cool under my knuckles. From here, I can see part of the clearing: the central fire, a cluster of wolves stacking firewood, children chasing a shaggy dog like it’s the most important mission in the world. Laughter floats up, thin and bright.

It looks… like a pack. A real one. Less polished, more alive.

We had laughter once, too. Before everything was weighed and measured and bartered.

A soft knock interrupts the thought.

“Come in,” I call.

The door opens and a woman slips inside, shutting it with her hip because both her hands are full. One carries a steaming bowl; the other, folded clothes.

She’s my age, maybe a year or two older. Copper‑brown hair braided down her back, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hands stained faintly green from herbs. Her wolf hums quiet and strong under her skin.

“I’m Siofra,” she says, with a small smile that doesn’t quite hide the sharpness in her eyes. “Healer. The alpha asked me to check on you.” She nods at the bowl. “And to make sure his… guest eats.”

Guest.

The word sits between us, daring either of us to laugh at it.

“I’m fine,” I say automatically.

“Of course you are.” She sets the bowl on the table anyway, the rich smell of broth and meat chasing away some of the lingering chill. “You crossed half the range, walked into a hostile pack, had your old sins dragged into the light and your future bartered like cattle. You must be thriving.”

A startled, helpless laugh escapes me before I can catch it.

Her mouth curves, satisfied. “Sit. Eat. I won’t poison you. If he wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be sitting by a window.”

“That’s very comforting,” I mutter, but I obey.

The first spoonful burns my tongue. The second unclenches something in my chest. I hadn’t realized how badly I was shaking until warmth settles in my stomach, steady and grounding.

Siofra leans against the wall, watching me. Not like a guard. More like a scientist watching an unfamiliar animal.

“So,” she says lightly. “What does a highborn Luna‑in‑training think of our little mess?”

“I’m not—” The word Luna sticks. I swallow it down with broth. “It’s different. The Hall is… quieter.”

“Quieter.” She glances toward the window, where a pup is currently trying to climb directly up another wolf’s back. A shout, a tumble, giggles. “That’s one word for it.”

I set the spoon down, tracing a groove in the table’s worn surface.

“In Vaelan,” I say slowly, “everything has its place. Its time. Noise is… controlled.”

“And wolves who don’t fit?” she asks. The question is gentle, but it’s a blade.

I think of a boy on his knees, gasping, the sound of laughter roaring in my ears.

“We make sure they don’t disrupt the picture,” I say.

Siofra’s gaze sharpens. She studies my face, searching for something I’m not sure I can give.

“And you?” she asks. “Is this where you think you fit?”

I want to say no. That this is temporary. That as soon as Rowan decides, I’ll go home with a deal in hand and never see these wooden walls again.

Instead, what comes out is, “I don’t know.”

Her expression softens, just a fraction. “Honest. That’s rarer than you’d think up here.” She pushes off the wall. “Finish your food. Jarik will come drag you to the main house when the alpha’s ready.”

“Ready to decide the price?” I ask.

“Ready to listen,” she corrects. “Don’t assume you know which way his scales tip, Lyris Vaelan. You’re not the only one who’s changed since that day.”

When she’s gone, the room feels smaller.

Later—minutes, hours, I’m not sure—another knock sounds. This one isn’t soft.

“Vaelan.” Jarik’s voice through the door. “He wants to see you. Alone.”

My heart stutters.

I stand, smoothing my clothes, fingers hovering a fraction too long at the hollow of my throat where a bond should have been.

Alone with the omega I shattered.

Alone with the alpha who gets to decide whether any of this was worth it.