The Alpha’s game
759 Words
The Grand Hall smelled of lemon wax, old money, and terror.
Love was on her hands and knees, the rough bristles of the scrub brush biting into her raw palms. She moved in a rhythmic, desperate circle, buffing the mahogany floor until her own hollowed-out reflection stared back at her.
Around her, the Pack lounged on velvet sofas. They were drinking, laughing, and watching her work as if she were a circus animal performing for their amusement.
"Stop."
The single word cut through the chatter like a whip crack. The room went silent.
Alpha Marcus stood up from his leather armchair. He didn't shout; he didn't have to. The air in the room grew heavy, the pressure of his Alpha aura forcing the air from Love’s lungs.
"Love Anderson," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Come here."
Love’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She scrambled to her feet, keeping her head lowered, and walked toward him. Her legs felt like lead.
"Look at this," Marcus said, pointing a polished boot at a microscopic smudge near the hearth. "You call this clean?"
"I… I scrubbed it twice, Alpha," Love stammered, her voice trembling.
"Do not lie to me!" The Alpha’s roar shook the windows. He grabbed a glass of amber whiskey from the side table and deliberately poured it onto the spot she had just polished.
The sticky liquid pooled on the wood, dripping onto Love’s worn shoes.
"Now it’s dirty," he sneered, the cruelty dancing in his eyes. "Lick it up."
Gasps rippled through the room. Love’s stomach lurched. This wasn't discipline; this was sadism.
"I said," Marcus growled, leaning down until his face was inches from hers, "clean. It. Up."
"Look at her trembling," a voice drawled from the shadows. "She’s going to faint before she even bends her knees."
Ethan Green pushed off the pillar he’d been leaning against. He strolled into the center of the room, his movements fluid and lazy, like a predator who knows he has no natural enemies. His friends—a group of high-ranking betas—snickered behind him.
Ethan stopped beside Love. He smelled of rain and mint, a sharp contrast to the Alpha’s musk. He looked down at the spilled whiskey, then at his father.
"She’s useless, Father," Ethan said, his voice bored. "Making her lick the floor is a waste of good whiskey. Besides, she smells like fear. It’s ruining my appetite."
The Alpha grunted, straightening up. "Fine. Get her out of my sight. But if I see a speck of dust tomorrow, Omega, you won’t be sleeping inside the house at all."
"Go," Ethan commanded, turning his back on his father to look at Love.
Love didn't need to be told twice. She dipped a chaotic bow and turned to flee, but Ethan side-stepped, blocking her path for a fraction of a second.
To the room, it looked like he was just getting in her way to mock her. But as he leaned in, his lips brushed her ear.
"You have a fire in your eyes, little mouse," he whispered, so low the sound barely registered. "Be careful. Fire burns down houses... but it also gets people killed."
Love’s breath hitched. She looked up, startled, meeting his gaze for a split second.
His green eyes weren't mocking anymore. They were calculating. Intense. Assessing her like a puzzle he was trying to solve.
Then, the mask slammed back down. He shoved her shoulder lightly. "Move, trash."
Love stumbled back, catching her balance before sprinting toward the servant’s corridor.
Later that night, the house was silent. Love sat in her cupboard, her hands still shaking as she pulled the hidden coin from her sleeve. She rubbed the metal with her thumb, the cool surface grounding her.
Fire, he had said.
Ethan had seen the anger she tried so hard to hide. He had seen the spark.
"Let them laugh," she whispered to the darkness, clutching the coin to her chest. "Let them pour whiskey on the floor. Let them call me trash."
She closed her eyes, visualizing a life beyond the iron gates of Grayville. A life where she was strong. A life where she was someone.
"One day," she vowed, tucking the coin into a loose seam in her mattress. "One day, I won't just burn the house down. I'll burn their whole world."
- Writer
