Shadows of Grayville: Book 1

​The sharp click-clack of stilettos against marble echoed through the grand foyer like a countdown to an execution. ​Love Anderson froze mid-step. The silver serving tray in her hands, heavy with crystal goblets of vintage red wine, began to tremble. She willed her hands to still, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron, but the terror was a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders. ​"Do I look like I pay you to stand there gaping like a fish, Omega?" ​The voice was low, silky, and sharp enough to slice skin. Luna Veronica stopped three feet away, her eyes raking over Love’s faded gray uniform with utter disgust. ​Love’s cheeks burned hot with shame. She lowered her gaze to the floor. Eye contact was forbidden for a rankless wolf like her. "N-no, Luna," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thrumming of her own pulse. ​"Then move." The Luna stepped closer, invading Love's personal space until the scent of expensive perfume and aggressive pheromones made Love dizzy. "If a single drop of that wine stains my floors, it will be your blood scrubbing it out." ​Before Love could scramble away, a deep, rumbling laugh thundered from the staircase above. ​"Don't waste your breath on it, Veronica." Alpha Marcus descended the stairs, not even deigning to look at Love. He adjusted his cufflinks, radiating a power that made Love’s wolf whimper inside her chest. "It’s pathetic. Even the shadows of Grayville have more pride than that thing." ​That thing. Not a person. Not a pack member. A thing. ​Love’s stomach twisted, a gnawing hunger clawing at her ribs that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the starvation of her soul. She dipped her head in a clumsy bow and scurried toward the dining hall, invisible, unwanted, and broken. ​Hours later, when the clinking of silverware had ceased and the heavy oak doors were bolted shut, Love retreated to her sanctuary. ​It wasn't a room. It was a hollowed out space beneath the attic stairs, a cupboard sized room that smelled of damp wood and old dust. It contained a thin, scratchy blanket and a single, barred window near the floorboard that framed a sliver of the gray night sky. ​She collapsed onto the cold floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Her muscles screamed from twelve hours of scrubbing and serving, but her mind was louder. ​One day, she thought, tracing a crack in the floorboards. One day, I won't be the dirt beneath their feet. ​A soft scratching sound at the door made her jump. ​"Love?" A frantic whisper. ​Love scrambled to the door. A small, stale loaf of bread slid through the gap between the wood and the floor. ​"Lulu?" Love whispered back, pressing her hand against the wood as if she could touch her friend on the other side. ​"Eat quickly," Lulu hissed. "The Luna is on a rampage tonight. Don’t let them see your fire die, Love. Please." ​Footsteps echoed down the corridor, heavy, deliberate steps that didn't belong to a servant. Lulu gasped, and the sound of her scurrying away faded into silence. ​Love froze, clutching the bread to her chest. She held her breath, counting the heartbeats. One. Two. Three. ​The footsteps stopped right outside her door. ​The air in the tiny cupboard sized room suddenly grew heavy, charged with electricity that made the fine hairs on Love's arms stand up. A scent drifted through the cracks - pine, rain, and something metallic, like blood. ​Through the gap in the door, she saw boots. Then, the person crouched. ​Peering through the crack were two eyes. Green. Vibrant, predatory, and sharp as shattered glass. ​Ethan Green. The Alpha’s son. The Prince of Grayville. ​He was dangerous. He was unpredictable. And for reasons Love couldn’t comprehend, he was watching her. ​A slow, terrifying smirk spread across his lips, visible in the sliver of light. ​"Hiding in the dark isn’t going to save you, Omega," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that traveled through the wood and straight into her bones. ​Love’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She didn't dare breathe. ​Ethan stood up slowly. "Rest up," he said, his tone mocking but laced with a dark promise. "The game gets harder tomorrow." ​He walked away, leaving Love trembling in the dark. She clenched her fists around the stale bread, tears pricking her eyes. ​I will leave, she vowed, the anger finally sparking over the fear. I will find my real family. And when I do… they will regret ever calling me "thing." ​The world outside her corner was cruel. But Love Anderson wasn't done fighting yet.