Chapter 1
1611 Words
"Allison, the mud on this boot is dried on. Did you even try to scrub it?"
I don't look up from the floor. I just keep scrubbing. The water is turning gray from the dirt. Heather is standing over me, one hand on her hip. Her twin, Hayley, leans against the doorframe, watching.
"I scrubbed them last night," I say.
"Then you did a terrible job," Hayley says. "Do it again. Or did being Daddy's little Luna make you too good for real work?"
There it is. They can never talk to me for a minute without throwing my past in my face. Luna. Back when my mother was still here. Before they accused her of treason and ran her out of the NightVeil Pack. My father... he just let it happen. He let them turn me from the heir to this, a servant in my own home. And when he died, his new wife, Adeline, and her perfect daughters took everything. They got the title. I got the bucket and the rag.
Heather kicks the bucket, sloshing dirty water onto my leg. "You're lucky we let you stay here. You should be more grateful."
I look at the water soaking into my pants. I look at my hands, all red and cracked. I look at their perfect, smug faces.
I don't say anything. I just stand up and walk right past them.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Heather snaps.
"To my room," I say, not stopping. "I'm done cleaning."
Hayley steps in front of the hallway, blocking my path. "Who told you that you can go to your room without our permission?"
Heather moves to stand beside her, a nasty smile on her face. "For your information, our mates are coming tonight. We're introducing them to Mother. So the house needs to be perfect. The food, the wine... everything."
"Yeah," Hayley adds, her eyes scanning me up and down with a mock pout. "But I guess you wouldn't understand how important that is. You've never had a mate, have you?"
I let out a slow breath, my hands curling into fists at my sides. I'm not scared of them. I've never been scared of anyone in this pack, not really. But I'm tired. Tired of the fights, tired of the punishments. Most of all, I'm tired of dealing with Adeline if I step too far out of line. Their mother is the real problem, and she's the one I've been trying to avoid all these years.
I unclench my hands and look at the floor. "What do you need me to do?”
"Good," Heather says, a smug smile on her face. "My mate, Kyle, loves a spiced venison roast. The kind with the berry glaze." She tucks a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, her eyes fixed on me. "And you're going to make it. I like how you prepare it."
Hayley chimes in immediately. "And I want fresh grape fruit wine. Not the store-bought garbage. I want the kind you get from that low-class widow friend of yours. Eleanor. The one who won't sell to anyone else."
"Fresh grape fruit wine takes weeks to prepare," I say, my voice flat. "Eleanor might not have any ready. It sells out fast."
"I don't care," Heather snaps.
"We don't care," Hayley echoes. "We need to make a good impression. Don't let your bitterness get in the way of that."
They both stare at me, waiting for an argument. When I just stand there, silent, Heather's eyes narrow. "Fine. Don't do it. We'll just go tell Mother you're refusing to help."
I can feel the threat hanging in the air. Another complaint to Adeline. Another "lesson" I'd have to endure. It's never worth it.
I let out a slow sigh, the fight draining out of me. "I'll see what I can do."
Hayley sneers. "Better."
"Then get your ass moving," Heather adds, jerking her head toward the door.
I turn and walk away, their laughter following me out.
The walk to Eleanor’s cottage is the only peace I get all day. Her place is tucked away, surrounded by overgrown fruit trees and tangled flowers that smell sweeter than anything in the main pack grounds. I find her in her small yard, her hands deep in a basin of purple grapes.
“Allison!” Her face lights up when she sees me, a genuine smile that still feels foreign to receive. She drops a bunch of grapes and wipes her hands on her apron. “What brings you here, child?”
I don’t answer. I just walk over to the basin and start helping her wash the fruit.
“No, no, put that down,” she fusses. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Let me help,” I insist, not stopping. “Besides, I do worse than this at the pack house.”
She goes quiet for a moment, then her hand covers mine, stilling it. Her touch is gentle. She turns my hand over in hers, her thumb tracing the rough, red cracks across my knuckles. Her smile is gone, replaced by a deep sadness.
“Look at you,” she whispers, her voice thick. “You look so frail. Your hands… they’re rougher than mine.” She looks me in the eye, her grip firm. “The offer still stands. The moment you turn eighteen, you come live with me. You’ll be free here.”
“My birthday is tomorrow,” I remind her softly.
“As if I could forget,” she says, a small smile returning. “So? What are your plans?”
I take a deep breath. This is the first time I’ve said it out loud. “I’m leaving the pack for good. Staying with you… it sounds wonderful, Eleanor. But I need to live my life on my own terms. I want to see the city. I want to start over. Completely.”
Eleanor studies my face for a long moment. Then she squeezes my hand. “I’ll miss you terribly. But I support you. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy and safe. If you ever need anything—anything at all—I am here.”
“Thank you,” I say, the words feeling inadequate.
“Now,” she says, her tone shifting back to business. “You didn’t come here just to chat. Let me guess. They sent you for more wine?”
I nod, my shoulders slumping slightly. “The twins have mates coming tonight.”
“And I suppose they want my grape fruit wine,” she sighs. “Well, you can tell them I’m sold out. The last jar is not for sale.”
“Eleanor, please,” I beg, the fear creeping into my voice. “If I go back without it… the twins will make my life a living hell. And Adeline… you know she’ll beat me for it.”
She looks at me, at the desperation I know is plain on my face. She lets out a long, weary sigh. “Oh, child. Alright. I’ll get it for you.” She turns toward her cottage, muttering under her breath, “I cannot wait for the day you walk away from that house for good.”
A few hours later and the party starts…
The house is full of noise and laughter, but it feels like I’m watching it all from behind a thick pane of glass. I move through the crowded living room, refilling trays and clearing empty glasses, but none of it touches me. Heather and Hayley are holding court in the center of the room, preening under the attention of their mates. I see the venison roast is nearly gone and the jar of Eleanor’s wine is almost empty. My job here is almost done.
I slip out into the hallway, heading for the kitchen with a stack of dirty plates. The noise from the party fades a little, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
That’s when a figure steps out of the shadows, blocking my path.
“Well, hello there. I don’t think we’ve met.”
It’s a man with a sharp jaw and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I recognize him as the one hovering around Heather all night. Kyle. Her mate.
“I’m busy,” I say, trying to side-step him.
He moves with me, easily staying in front of me. “Not too busy for a little conversation, are you? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be hiding out here all alone.”
“I’m not interested,” I say, my voice flat. “Go back to the party. Go back to Heather.”
He just laughs, a low, condescending sound. “Feisty. I like that. I can smell what you are, you know. An Omega. I didn’t think any of you had the spirit to reject a Beta.” His eyes travel over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Maybe you just need the right kind of persuasion.”
He reaches out, his fingers aiming to brush a strand of hair from my face, but his intent is clear in his smirk. It’s not a gentle gesture; it’s a claim.
I don’t think. I just react.
My hand swings up and slaps him hard across the face.
His head snaps to the side. The mocking smile is gone, replaced by pure, cold shock.
He slowly turns back to face me, a red handprint blooming on his skin, his eyes dark with fury.
“How dare you?"
- Writer
