Alpha Ryker's Obsession

CHAPTER TWELVE

The room they called the servants’ quarters was not one room, as River had expected, but a series of cramped, interconnected sleeping spaces in the lower wing of the pack house—damp, dim, and lined with squeaky old beds. Thin curtains hung between each cot for privacy, though the fabric was so sheer it barely provided cover. The air smelled faintly of mildew, of years of sweat and sorrow trapped between the walls. Somewhere in the distance, pipes groaned lowly in protest as water rushed through them.

River stood awkwardly at the entrance, unsure of where to step, where to go, or what to say.

She felt small again.

Smaller than she had in a long time.

Behind her, the stern maid who had led her here gave a curt nod and turned on her heel, not bothering to speak a word.

River didn’t ask her to stay.

No one looked up when she entered. A few girls passed by the narrow corridor, eyes flicking briefly in her direction before moving on like she didn’t exist. River took a tentative step inside, then another, until the soft sound of a low snort caught her attention.

“So it’s true,” someone muttered from a bed to the left. “I thought the rumors were stupid, but there she is. Miss Special.”

River turned slowly.

Three girls stood in a small circle near the corner bed. One leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her smirk biting.

She had sleek, black hair pulled into a high ponytail, and dark eyes that gleamed with mean amusement. Her name, River would later learn, was Tasha.

“I saw her,” Tasha added, addressing the others but keeping her eyes on River. “Getting out of Alpha Ryker’s jeep yesterday. Front seat. Like she belonged there or something.”

That made the other girls perk up. One, a redhead with freckles and a crooked nose, narrowed her eyes. “You serious?”

Tasha nodded with mock solemnity. “Dead serious. He even opened the door for her.”

“Wow,” the third girl laughed dryly. “Maybe she’s the Luna now and we just don’t know it.”

River’s throat tightened. Her voice had retreated somewhere deep inside her, hiding where no one could reach it. She didn’t want a confrontation. She didn’t want to be seen.

She wanted to disappear.

“I’m not—” she started softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’m just… here to stay.”

The words were pitiful even to her ears.

Tasha stepped closer, sizing her up. “Oh, no need to explain, sweetheart. We get it. You’re the pet project.”

River flinched slightly at the sneer.

“We clean the floors. We scrub the Alpha’s boots. You? You probably sit on his lap and whisper little secrets in his ear, huh?”

River’s hands clenched at her sides, fingers trembling slightly.

“I don’t—”

“No?” Tasha c****d her head. “Then why were you in his car?”

River’s lips parted. The truth sat heavily on her tongue, bitter and unready. She didn’t know how to explain it—how to explain any of it. That he’d taken her, bought her, kept her like something halfway between possession and person. That he’d kissed her forehead only hours after snapping a neck.

So instead, she said nothing.

And silence, of course, was the worst answer of all.

“Oh,” Tasha smirked. “So you are special.”

The other girls laughed.

Someone muttered, “Poor little thing probably thought that ride meant something.”

“Maybe she’s mute,” said the redhead with a shrug.

“Would explain the face,” another added.

River didn’t cry. She wouldn’t—not in front of them. But something in her posture bent, just slightly, like a twig under pressure.

“You’re in my bed,” Tasha added flatly.

River blinked.

The girl pointed to the narrow cot River had unconsciously stepped toward.

“That’s mine.”

“I—sorry.” River stumbled backward, bumping into the edge of another frame.

“Take that one,” Tasha said, motioning vaguely to a lumpy mattress in the farthest corner near a broken window that let the cold in. “No one wants it. Like you.”

The girls snickered as River wordlessly walked to the indicated cot, heart thudding in her chest. The bedsprings squeaked beneath her as she sat. The mattress was sunken in the middle, and a faint mildew scent rose from the sheet. She didn’t dare ask for a blanket.

“Don’t worry,” Tasha said casually, “we won’t tell the Alpha you’re here. We know how busy he must be.”

Another round of giggles followed.

River stared down at her hands. They looked smaller here. Less capable. Her nails were chewed from nerves, her knuckles dry and scraped from working in the kitchens the week before. Her palms ached with the bruises of servitude. And yet, still, they teased her for something she never asked for.

Was it always going to be like this?

Would every place she stepped into reject her?

Would she always carry the weight of Ryker’s shadow behind her, even when she tried to stand on her own?

The door creaked again. Another girl entered. This one older—probably mid-twenties—with her apron stained and a mop slung over one shoulder. She glanced at the group, then at River, raising a brow.

“New meat?” she asked dryly.

Tasha shrugged. “Ryker’s girl.”

“I’m not,” River said quickly, finally forcing the words out. Her voice cracked, but it was still a voice.

“I’m not his anything.”

The older girl laughed, not unkindly. “Doesn’t matter if you are or not, honey. Long as he keeps you breathing, you’ve got a target on your back. Just the way it is.”

She dropped the mop in a bucket and turned away, disappearing into a side room.

Tasha looked River over one last time before sauntering away. “Sweet dreams, Luna.”

Once the giggles died down, the room fell into its usual hum of tired movement. Girls returned to their cots, stripped off uniforms, lay down with silent sighs. No one spoke to River. She didn’t speak either.

She just lay back on the sagging bed and stared at the broken ceiling.

For a long time, River remained still, blinking slowly at the shifting shadows on the ceiling. Her mind refused to rest. Every noise startled her—the creak of floorboards, the whisper of fabric, the distant thud of footsteps overhead.

She missed the cell.

God, she missed that awful little cell.

Aubrey had been there.

Aubrey, with her half-truths and twisted warmth.

Was she really alone now?

The tears came silently. She hated them. Hated herself for them. But they came anyway, slipping hot down her cheeks as she pressed the thin pillow over her face to smother the sound.

She didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

Freedom?

Safety?

Ryker?

No. She didn't want him. She couldn't.

He had killed someone.

And then said he loved her.

What kind of love was that?

The next morning came with the clang of metal buckets and the bark of orders.

“Up! Breakfast shift!” one of the older maids barked, her voice hoarse from years of shouting.

River sat up groggily, the chill of the room sinking into her bones. The others had already started moving, pulling on uniforms, brushing their hair hastily in cracked mirrors.

She followed suit, slipping into a too-big dress someone tossed her way, cinching it at the waist with a fraying belt. Her hands trembled slightly as she tied it.

No one spoke to her.

At least not until she passed by the long sink and heard someone mutter under their breath, “Ryker’s w***e gets to work now.”

Laughter followed. Not loud. Just sharp.

River didn’t react.

She picked up the mop and started cleaning.

Later, as she walked back to the quarters after dinner duty, she found herself pausing at the door.

The hallway outside was quiet. A cool draft brushed over her arms.

She closed her eyes.

And she imagined her old life.

The warm kitchen of her father’s house. The smell of spices. The way her mother used to hum when she cooked. The sound of Caden’s laughter before it turned cruel. The sunlight that once poured in through tall windows.

The River she used to be.

That River was gone.

But something inside her whispered—she didn’t have to be forgotten.

She could still be more than this.

More than the whispers.

More than Ryker’s prisoner.

More than an omega hiding in a broken bed.

It would take time.

It would take everything.

But maybe—just maybe—she still had something left to fight for.

River took a deep breath and stepped inside.

No one looked up.

And yet, something inside her felt the tiniest bit stronger.

A little more solid.

Still weak.

Still small.

But standing.