BOUGHT BY THE WRONG ALPHA

CHAPTER FOUR: HOUSEKEEPER

Three days inside IronClaw and I’m already learning the rules.

Need to keep your head down.

Watch everyone.

Survive.

Morning light filters through the narrow window, casting its light at the center of the room.

I’ve been up for a while. Staring at the window.

There’s a broken latch I’ve noticed since I arrived. Today I decide to fix it.

I sit up.

My back doesn’t hurt anymore. The pain is a distant memory now. And my hips too.

I move toward the window.

It takes about four minutes and I’m done. It’s moving freely now.

My hand is on the latch when I hear a knock on the door.

“Kyra, it’s Lucien.”

My hands go still. The rest of my body freezes.

The dagger conversation.

I straighten myself. “Come in.”

The door opens. Lucien comes in and closes the door, a clipboard in his hand.

He looks around the room briefly like he’s assessing the place.

Then his eyes fix on me.

“Good morning, Sir.” I say. He never told me what to call him and I haven’t heard anyone address him as anything so far. Conversations with him usually flow in one direction: him giving orders. Subordinates following.

“You can call me Lucien.” He says.

My eyebrows go up.

Doves are bottom tier in the hierarchy. Even lower than omegas. Why did he say I should call him by his name?

“I’m sorry, you want me to address you by your name?”

“Yes. And will that be a problem?”

“Absolutely not, sir.”

He looks at me sternly.

“Absolutely not, Lucien.” I correct myself quickly.

“Better. Here,” he says, handing me the clipboard. “Go through it. Tell me what you understand.”

I collect the clipboard. Go through it.

It’s something like an inventory. Records about bike parts and supplies. I can tell because my dad was a storekeeper.

“It’s an inventory.” I say, looking up from the clipboard.

He nods twice. Clearly impressed.

“Your fertility score,” he catches my gaze. “Why is it zero?”

Shit.

“I…” there’s no good answer to this question that isn’t also a problem. “I…I don’t know.”

Which is actually true.

He looks at me for a moment. Hand tapping his chin.

Then he lets it down. Not sure he bought that.

“You seem like someone with more capabilities than meets the eye.”

If only you knew, Lucien. If only you knew.

“Thank you,” I say, and the moment it comes out, I feel stupid.

“I want to offer you the role of secretary to our biker’s group - The MC Riders. Since we both know you cannot reproduce.”

I cannot hear anything.

Everything seems blurry and there’s a fading distant sound I’m hearing.

It happens so fast like something hit me.

Something did hit me.

“Cannot reproduce.”

My mother was called that for years according to what I was told. The wolves claimed my father’s human blood was corrupting my mother’s bloodline. Every morning she woke, they made sure to remind her just exactly how she had no offspring. Called her names, treated her separately.

Until I was born. But by then, the damage was done already. The name had stuck.

He doesn’t know any of this. I’m standing, looking at him and stuck somewhere between rage and grief.

“You start today.” Lucien says, turning to leave.

“Yes, Sir.”

He stops at the door handle. Turns back.

“One more thing,” his hand points to the clipboard. “All supply requests go through me alone. Not directly to the vendors. Not through anyone else. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lucien.” I nod once, correct myself this time.

He leaves.

I finally breathe out.

My mind is processing a lot of things right now.

The secretary role offers me even more access than I thought. More closeness to Lucien. Would have wished for better but this works just fine. Monitor, observe and attack.

I arrange myself. Clean up. Step outside.

***

The MC building is just directly opposite the quarters. Doesn’t take long before I locate its storage room.

Work day one.

There’s a long bench press and some dumbbells placed at one corner, and at another is a desk with brown envelopes and scattered papers.

I move to the table.

Pick up the papers. Read through.

There’s record of inventory from last week. And the week before. And the week before that.

The problem is that the details are misleading. Like they’ve been tampered with.

The brake fluids for instance, keep reducing in stock while the requests keep increasing. It doesn’t sit right with me.

I grab a chair. Start everything afresh.

By midday I’m done sorting. The place looks very organised now.

I hear footsteps walk past the door. I turn.

Don’t see anyone.

When I head back to the quarters, someone is talking to Elara on the stairs. She’s on the floor, gathering some scattered blankets.

“If you stopped eating like your life depended on it, maybe you’d fit into those clothes and avoid silly mistakes like this.” She moves towards Elara. Scatters the ones she’d been arranging.

I see her clearly now. She’s pretty, blue haired. Looks and moves like royalty.

“And you,” she turns to look at me. “Who are you?”

“Ky-“

“Hold it. I don’t care what you are. Just make sure you both,” she’s pointing at me now. “Just make sure you don’t end up like her.”

She walks up the stairs. Leaving Elara and I and the mess.

Elara doesn’t talk.

“Is this the first time she’s doing that to you?”

Still, Elara doesn’t talk. Focuses on arranging the blankets.

But I can see her face change slightly. Lips biting. Tears welling in her eyes.

Before she finishes, a tear rolls down her cheek.

“What is it?” I ask.

She stares at me for a moment. Like there’s something she wants to say but is afraid of the consequences.

“Forget it.” She finally says. Straightens and leaves.

This is the typical Dove treatment. This is what they suffer. Abuse disguised as help.

Three days later.

I’m in the storage room going through some records.

When I look up, there’s a man standing by the doorway.

It’s the man from the auction hall. The second rider.

“You move like a hunter.” He says, completely out of nowhere.

I don’t know where he got that information from or what he knows that warranted such.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I deny flatly.

“Hmm…okay.” He moves away from the door frame. “Beta Lucien would like to see you in his quarters.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Don’t panic, I tell myself.

The walk to Lucien’s quarters is about six minutes.

The man follows me all the way.

We pass warriors training in the courtyard, kids running around the compound, Doves in the kitchen, and the forbidden door. Lucien’s floor is the second floor. The floor above me.

I straighten my dress when I reach the front of his room.

The door is already open.

“Don’t you just know how to hide these things.” Lucien’s voice.

He’s talking to a Dove outside the window watering his garden. He turns to look at us by the doorway. Moves away from the window. Goes toward a wooden brown desk and a chair. Stands when he reaches the chair. Nods at the man behind.

He leaves.

Closes the door.

“Have a seat.” Lucien says, pointing to the seat across his table.

I sit. He sits.

“How are you finding the new role?”

“It’s okay, Sir…It’s okay, Lucien.”

He reaches towards his drawer slowly. Pulls it out.

Closes it. Raises his head up.

“Here.” He throws a brown envelope across the table.

My heart seizes.

I stretch my hand toward the envelope. Reach it, and drag it slowly to myself.

Then I open it.

“That’s yours from now on.” Lucien says.

It’s a purple collar. Similar to Elara’s but darker.

“The Dove assigned here isn’t feeling well. I’ll need you to take care of this place.”

My hand goes still. The collar doesn’t shake in my hand.

I look at Lucien.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“No.” I bow my head slightly.

He gets up from the chair. Walks towards his bed. Takes off his rings. Removes his shirt. Tosses them on the bed.

I’m standing with my hands at my sides. Deciding whether to leave or to stay.

He moves into the bathroom with a towel on his neck.

“You can start working.”

Closes the door.

I turn my head to look around the room. There’s a wooden drawer by his bed. A grey ceramic cup sitting on a stack of papers. There’s also a shelf standing separately from the wardrobe. It has books stacked horizontally instead of vertically.

I make the bed. Get the broom behind the door, begin to sweep.

I’m done before he’s out. Room well arranged, jacket well buttoned and hung.

The tap turns off. Lucien steps out.

His hair is dripping water. And so are his hands, down to his fingers. There’s a slight mark on his knuckle. Like a fresh cut.

I stand there not knowing what to do.

“You may leave.” He says.

I walk towards the door. Turn the handle. Leave.

When I step out of Lucien’s room, someone is coming down the corridor. It’s the other woman from the kitchen. Sabrina.

She stops when she gets close.

Looks at me.

Doesn’t say anything. Has an unreadable expression on her face.

“So the rumours are true.” She finally says.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes.” Her voice lowers. Almost to herself. “No wonder you were given a special room with everything. Even the new collar?” She relaxes her face slightly. “Anyway, I’m here to tell you about the new roster from Mrs. Garret. Kitchen's at six, noon, and seven. The good tea is in the left cabinet if you can get in early.” She looks at me again. Then walks past.

“What did you mean by that?”

She doesn’t answer. Keeps walking away.