The Redeemed Alpha & His Silver Luna

Chapter One. Kara's POV: Many people use soothing sound machines to help them sleep at night. I have the irritating echo of water dripping down the stone walls of this cold dungeon. Drip. Drip. Drip. Sometimes I count the drops just to give my mind something else to do. I don't even remember how long I've been down here this time. The last time Leandro sent me to the dungeon, I spent an entire week weeping in pain from the two broken ribs he gave me. This time, I know I've been here much longer. I remember his studio. I remember him grabbing me. I remember flying across the room and the back of my head slamming into something hard. After that, everything becomes blurry. My hand covered in blood. My chest covered in blood. Then darkness. There are no words to describe this kind of suffering. Barbara and Alpha Leandro have treated me like trash for as long as I can remember, but everything became worse the moment Leandro discovered I was his fated mate. For a few stupid minutes, my heart filled with hope. I had a mate. Someone the Moon Goddess herself had chosen for me. Maybe that meant someone would finally love me. Protect me. Want me. I should've known better. That little spark of hope lasted until Leandro struck me so hard that I thought my eyes would pop out of my skull. He was furious. Disgusted. Humiliated that a worthless maid like me could possibly be his mate. A wolfless maid. That's what they have always called me. Worthless. Useless. A mistake that should've never existed. Why had the Moon Goddess done this to me? Hadn't I suffered enough? Heavy footsteps outside my cell pulled me from my thoughts. My body immediately began trembling. No. I knew those footsteps. And they meant one of two things. Either someone had finally remembered to feed me after five days without bread or water... Or Leon needed me again. My stomach twisted. Please let it be food. I had no wolf. No parents. No siblings. No family to claim me. If I died on this filthy floor, no one would cry for me. No one would come looking. But apparently dying was the one wish Leandro refused to grant me. Why did he hate me so much? What had I ever done to him? Or to his mother? Barbara's hatred had always confused me the most. Sometimes she looked at me as though my very existence offended her. As though I'd done something unforgivable simply by being born. But what? I'd asked myself that question a thousand times and never found an answer. The heavy metal door groaned open. Two pairs of dirty boots entered my cell. I didn't have enough strength to lift my head, but I didn't need to see their faces. I recognized their laughter. Andy and Petter. One was Leandro's Beta. The other was his dungeon keeper. Both were as filthy as their Alpha. “Well, good morning, sunshine,” Andy chuckled. A bucket of freezing water crashed over me. I gasped. My entire body seized from the shock, but then a much stronger instinct took over. Thirst. Water. My head dropped toward the muddy floor, and I began licking the puddle forming beneath me. I didn't care that rat feces could be mixed into it. I didn't care that my own urine was probably there too. I hadn't had water in five days. At that moment, dignity didn't f*****g matter. Survival did. Their laughter echoed against the stone walls. Petter's boot came down against the side of my head, crushing my cheek into the mud. “That's enough, you filthy piece of shit.” I stopped. His boot remained against my face. “It's time for you to get cleaned up and put on a pretty dress.” No. My stomach dropped. Please, no. Just pull out your knife and cut my throat. Anything but that. Because there was nothing more degrading than being used by a man who couldn't stand the sight of me. Leandro found me revolting. The feeling was mutual. But Leon didn't agree. His wolf recognized what Leandro desperately wished he could deny. I was his mate. Leandro had Iris whenever he wanted companionship. Everyone knew she was the woman he preferred. But Leon? Leon wanted me. Only me. And Leandro hated me for it. He hated that his wolf craved the worthless, wolfless maid he'd spent his entire life despising. So whenever Leon became too restless for Leandro to control, they came for me. And afterward, when his wolf was finally calm again... Leandro always made sure I paid for it. “Get up.” Petter kicked my leg. I tried. My palms pressed against the muddy floor, but my arms trembled beneath my weight. “I said get the f**k up.” “I can't.” My voice barely came out. Andy crouched in front of me. “You heard him.” “I haven't eaten.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head backward. Pain shot through my skull. I cried out. “Then maybe you should've thought about that before pissing off your Alpha.” What the f**k did food have to do with anything? But arguing with these assholes would only earn me another beating. “I'll get up.” Andy released my hair. “Then do it.” I planted my hands against the floor again. One knee. Then the other. The dungeon spun around me. I closed my eyes until the dizziness passed. “Today, bitch.” “I'm trying.” I grabbed the wall and dragged myself upright. My legs shook so badly that I knew I wouldn't make it upstairs without help. Not that either of them cared. Petter unlocked the chain around my ankle. The metal dropped to the floor. “Move.” I took one step. Then another. By the third, my knee buckled. Andy caught my arm before I hit the ground. For one stupid second, I thought he was helping me. Then his fingers dug painfully into my bruises. “Don't make us carry you.” “I won't.” “Good. Because you f*****g stink.” They laughed. I didn't respond. They were right. I smelled like blood, urine, mud, and days of sweat. Five days. Had it really been five? Maybe more. Time didn't exist in the dungeon. There was only darkness. Pain. Hunger. And that f*****g dripping water. We reached the stairs. I stared upward. Twenty-three steps. I knew because I'd counted them before. Twenty-three miserable stone steps between hell and the rest of the world. “Move,” Petter ordered. I gripped the railing. One. Two. Three. By step eight, my lungs were burning. At twelve, my legs began trembling uncontrollably. At sixteen, I thought I was going to faint. Andy shoved me from behind. “Keep going.” “I'm trying.” “Try harder.” I bit the inside of my cheek and climbed. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. The door opened. Light flooded my eyes. I recoiled. After days in darkness, even the dim hallway felt painfully bright. “Keep moving.” They dragged me through the servants' corridor and into a small bathroom. A woman was waiting inside. Martha. She was one of the older maids and one of the few people in the Pack House who had ever shown me kindness. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Oh, Goddess.” “Clean her,” Andy ordered. Martha stared at the dried blood covering my hair. “What happened to her?” “Not your concern.” “She needs a doctor.” Petter laughed. “She needs soap.” Martha's jaw tightened. I wanted to tell her not to argue. Please. Don't defend me. It was never worth it. “She can barely stand.” Andy stepped closer. “Are you questioning your Alpha's orders?” Martha immediately lowered her gaze. “No.” “Good.” He shoved me toward her. “She has thirty minutes.” “For what?” “To look presentable.” Martha's face paled. She knew. Everyone knew. “Thirty minutes,” Andy repeated. The door slammed behind them. The moment they were gone, my knees gave out. Martha caught me. “Oh, sweetheart.” I hated those words. Not because they were cruel. Because they weren't. Kindness hurt worse sometimes. It reminded me of everything I didn't have. “I'm okay.” “No, you're not.” She helped me sit on the edge of the bathtub. Her hands trembled as she pushed my filthy hair away from my face. “What did he do to you this time?” I looked down. “You know.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Kara...” “Please don't.” She pressed her lips together. “I don't want you getting in trouble because of me.” “I don't care.” “I do.” Martha sighed. Then she turned on the water. Steam slowly filled the bathroom. I stared at the bathtub. Water. Clean water. My mouth immediately watered. “Can I drink some?” Martha froze. Her face crumbled. “Oh, Goddess. Of course.” She grabbed a cup, filled it at the sink, and handed it to me. I drank too quickly. “Slowly,” she warned. I emptied it anyway. “More.” She filled it again. Then again. By the fourth cup, my stomach cramped. “That's enough for now.” “Please.” “You'll make yourself sick.” I wanted to argue. Instead, I surrendered the cup. Martha helped me remove what remained of my filthy dress. Her sharp inhale told me everything I needed to know about what my body looked like. I didn't look down. I didn't want to see. “Your ribs.” “They'll heal.” “Kara, you're not healing.” I glanced at her. “What?” “These bruises are days old.” “So?” She hesitated. Then shook her head. “Nothing.” I knew what she was thinking. Wolves healed quickly. I didn't. Because I wasn't one. At least, not really. I had werewolf blood. Enough to live among them. Enough to smell them, hear them, understand their customs. But no wolf had ever spoken inside my head. No shift had ever come. Nothing. I was twenty years old and completely alone inside my own mind. Wolfless. Martha helped me into the bathtub. The warm water burned against every cut. I hissed. “Sorry.” “It's okay.” She carefully washed the blood from my hair. The water turned pink. Then red. Then brown from the dirt. Martha didn't speak for several minutes. Neither did I. Until her fingers suddenly stopped. “What?” She was staring at the back of my head. “Martha?” “This wound...” My stomach tightened. “What about it?” She touched the area carefully. “You said you've been downstairs five days?” “I think so.” “This should be infected.” I shrugged. “Maybe I'm lucky.” Her expression told me she didn't believe that. Neither did I. Luck and I had never been acquainted. She continued washing my hair. “Do you remember anything before you came to the Pack?” The question caught me off guard. “What?” “Before Barbara brought you here.” I frowned. “Why are you asking me that?” “I was just wondering.” “No.” Nothing clear, anyway. Sometimes I dreamed of a woman's voice. A soft song. Warm arms. Silver light. But dreams weren't memories. Barbara told me I'd been abandoned when I was little. She'd taken me in because nobody else wanted me. I owed her everything. She reminded me of that often enough. “Why?” I asked. Martha wouldn't look at me. “No reason.” “Martha.” “We need to get you ready.” That was strange. But I was too exhausted to push. After the bath, Martha helped me into a clean robe and sat me in front of the mirror. I barely recognized myself. My cheek was swollen. My lower lip was split. Purple bruises covered my neck and collarbone. A cut disappeared somewhere into my hairline. I looked like a corpse someone had tried to decorate. Martha brushed my hair carefully. Then she stopped again. Her eyes met mine through the mirror. “What?” “Nothing.” “You've said that twice.” She swallowed. “You just... reminded me of someone.” My heart gave a strange little jump. “Who?” The bathroom door flew open. Martha spun around. Barbara stood there. Her perfectly manicured hand remained on the doorknob. Her cold eyes moved from Martha... to me. Then to my reflection in the mirror. Something changed in her face. Only for a second. But I saw it. Her skin paled. Her lips parted. And for the briefest moment, Barbara Ruzo looked at me as though she'd seen a ghost. Then her expression hardened. “What did you do to her hair?” Martha frowned. “I washed it.” “I can see that.” Barbara marched toward us and grabbed a handful of my hair. I flinched. She pulled it behind my shoulders. “Put it up.” “Why?” Martha asked. Barbara's eyes snapped toward her. “Excuse me?” “Alpha Leandro asked that she be made presentable.” “And I said put her hair up.” Martha lowered her head. “Yes, ma'am.” Barbara released me. I stared at her reflection. “What?” Her eyes met mine. I probably should've kept my mouth shut. I rarely did. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Barbara's face turned cold. “Like what?” “Like you hate my hair.” Martha went completely still. Wrong thing to say. Definitely the wrong f*****g thing to say. Barbara grabbed my chin. Her nails dug into my bruised skin. “I don't hate your hair.” “Then why—” “I hate everything attached to it.” There it was. The Barbara I knew. I looked away. She released me with a shove. “Makeup.” Martha stared at her. “She has an open cut on her face.” “Then work around it.” Barbara turned toward the door. “Leandro doesn't want to look at that.” Something bitter rose in my throat. “Then maybe he shouldn't hit me.” Silence. Oh, s**t. Martha closed her eyes. Barbara slowly turned around. I prepared myself for the slap. It didn't come. Instead, she walked toward me. Her eyes moved over my face. For some reason, that frightened me more. “You should be grateful.” I stared at her. “For what?” “For everything this family has given you.” A laugh escaped me. I couldn't help it. “You mean the dungeon?” Martha whispered my name. “Kara.” But Barbara only stared. “You had nothing when I found you.” There was venom behind every word. “No family. No name worth remembering. Nobody looking for you.” The words shouldn't have hurt. I'd heard them before. Still... Something inside my chest tightened. “Without me, you would've died.” Sometimes I wondered if that would've been kinder. Barbara leaned closer. “So when my son calls for you, you will go upstairs. You will smile. You will do whatever is expected of you.” My stomach turned. “And afterward?” Her eyes remained cold. “You'll come back downstairs if that's what he wants.” Of course. I looked at my reflection again. At the bruises Martha was expected to hide. At the swollen face Barbara wanted to be pretty. At the girl nobody wanted. “Fine.” Barbara turned away. Then stopped. Her gaze landed on something near my neck. Her entire body stiffened. “What is that?” I looked down. “What?” She crossed the room so quickly that I barely had time to react. Her fingers grabbed the thin chain around my neck. The one thing I'd owned for as long as I could remember. A tiny, tarnished pendant hung from it. Barbara's face went white. “Where did you get this?” I frowned. “I've always had it.” “That's impossible.” My heartbeat quickened. “What do you mean?” Her fingers tightened around the pendant. For the first time in my life, I saw something stronger than hatred in Barbara's eyes. Fear. “Martha,” she snapped. “Yes?” “Leave.” Martha hesitated. “Now!” Martha rushed from the bathroom. The door slammed shut. Barbara and I were alone. She stared at the pendant as if it could somehow destroy her. I swallowed. “Mrs. Ruzo?” Her hand rose. I flinched automatically. She was staring at my face again. Searching it. Her hand suddenly dropped to the pendant around my neck. She froze. Every trace of anger disappeared from her face. Her voice sharpened. “Where did you get it?” “I've always had it.” “No, you haven't.” I frowned. “Yes, I have.” Barbara reached for it, but I stepped back. Something about the panic in her eyes made me protective of the little piece of silver. “Give it to me.” “No.” Her eyes snapped to mine. “What did you say?” My heart hammered. I wasn't exactly known for telling Barbara Ruzo no and living peacefully afterward. But my fingers tightened around the pendant. “No.” “Kara—” “It's mine.” “Who gave it to you?” “I don't know.” “Bullshit!” “I don't!” At least... I didn't think I did. I looked down at the pendant resting against my palm. A strange memory flickered through my mind. Small hands. Not mine. A boy kneeling in front of me. I couldn't see his face. Only his hands fastening a chain around my neck. Keep it hidden. My breath caught. What the f**k? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold onto the memory. Nothing. It disappeared as quickly as it had come. Barbara grabbed my wrist. “Who gave you that?” “I said I don't know!” For the first time, I noticed something in her expression I'd never seen before. Fear. Not anger. Not disgust. Fear. Her eyes dropped to the pendant again. “Take it off.” “Why?” “Because I said so.” “No.” Her grip tightened. “You have no idea what you're wearing.” “Then tell me.” Silence. I stared at her. “What is it?” Barbara released my wrist as though my skin had burned her. “Garbage.” I looked down at the pendant. “If it's garbage, why are you so afraid of it?” Her face changed instantly. Oh, s**t. I'd gone too far. But instead of hitting me, Barbara stepped closer. “You're imagining things.” “Am I?” “Yes.” She turned away. But I saw her looking at me through the mirror. At my face. My hair. The necklace. And there it was again. That strange expression. Like pieces of a past she had tried very hard to bury were suddenly standing right in front of her. I touched the pendant. "Does this have a meaning for you?" “You've been locked underground for days with a head injury. You're confused.” Maybe. But something in her voice told me I wasn't. Barbara pointed toward the pendant. “Keep that ridiculous thing hidden. I don't want to see it again.” Then she turned and walked toward the door. Her hand tightened around the doorknob. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then she looked over her shoulder. “You should learn something, Kara.” Her eyes were colder than I'd ever seen them. “Some people disappear from your life for a reason.” The door slammed behind her. I stared after her. Then down at the little silver pendant resting in my palm. A boy. I closed my eyes. For one fleeting second, I could almost hear his voice again. "Keep it hidden." And something else. Something warmer. "I'll marry you one day and I will give you a matching ring." My eyes opened. I didn't know who he was. Maybe the brain injuries in my head were really causing some damage. I didn't even know whether the memory was real. But Barbara did. And judging by the terror I'd just seen in her eyes.. But my hand moved instinctively to the necklace. It was worthless. Old. Scratched. The silver had darkened with age. I didn't even know where it came from. But it was mine. The only thing in this entire f*****g world that belonged to me. Something strange had flashed through Barbara's eyes. And I could have sworn it was fear. For the first time in twenty years, a question entered my mind that I had never allowed myself to ask. What if Barbara had lied? A sudden, vicious pain tore through my chest. I gasped. My hand flew over my heart. “What the f**k?” The pain came again. Hot. Sharp. Deep. Then something strange followed it. A sensation I had never experienced before. Warmth spread beneath my skin. For one impossible second, I could have sworn something moved inside me. I froze. Silence. Nothing. I waited. Still nothing. My own stupid imagination. Of course it was. I was exhausted. Starving. Injured. Probably hallucinating. I looked at myself in the mirror. Then I stopped breathing. My eyes. For the briefest fraction of a second— Something silver flashed through them. I blinked. Brown. They were brown. Exactly as they'd always been. I leaned closer to the mirror. “What the f**k?” Nothing happened. A knock sounded at the door. “Kara?” Martha called nervously. “We have to finish. Alpha Leandro is waiting.” Leandro. The tiny spark of curiosity inside me disappeared beneath a wave of dread. Of course. Whatever Barbara was hiding would have to wait. Assuming I survived long enough to uncover it. I touched the pendant once more before tucking it beneath my robe. Then I looked at the battered girl staring back at me. No parents. No family. No wolf. No one coming to save me. At least... That's what I'd been told my entire life. And for the first time— I wondered if any of it was true.