Craved By The Cursed Hockey Alpha

Chapter Six

ELARA

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*

Three years.

My vision swam violently. Three years in that freezing, mold-covered cell? In the pitch black? With the rats and the dampness? I would completely lose my mind. I would literally die down there.

“If I may.”

The interruption came from Elder Crane Nightshade. He was the previous Alpha’s brother—Ian’s uncle. He was an older man with kind, silver-ringed eyes and a gentle demeanor.

He’d doted on me since I was a little girl, standing as one of the very few people in this godforsaken packhouse who ever treated me like a human being instead of an abomination.

After my mom vanished, he was the closest thing to family I had left.

His gaze dropped from my pale face to the heavy iron collar weighing down my neck, and his face tightened with disapproval.

“Let’s look at this from all angles,” Elder Crane suggested softly. “We all know a true traitor with malicious intent is entirely different from a heartbroken young girl who ran into the woods without thinking—”

“She thought about it,” Ian cut in smoothly. “She moved past two distinct patrol markers. That’s not a sudden impulse, Uncle. That’s a plan. A terrible one, clearly, but a plan nonetheless.”

I watched them stare each other down—uncle and nephew, elder and Alpha—deciding my entire future while I sat on my knees in chains like a prop in their play.

Before the argument could escalate, Varon spoke up again.

“As Elder Crane suggested, we must take all factors into consideration.” He cast a brief, cold glance in my direction. “Running away from the pack does technically constitute desertion,” he said, and I held my breath, my heart hammering. “But considering Elara’s emotional state—having just learned her partner had been mated to another—it’s highly probable this was not premeditated treason. However, leaving her completely unpunished would set a horrid example for the others.”

“Putting her in the dungeon is wrong,” Elder Crane interrupted firmly.

Varon nodded slowly. “True. Three years in the dungeon for a wolfless girl who left because her heart was broken seems… entirely disproportionate. Her immune system is entirely human. Three winters in that cell and she’s dead. Therefore, I propose a demotion. Omega status.”

My entire body froze.

Omega.

“No!” Nate’s voice exploded through the room, sharp, and thunderous. “No! That’s—Dad, you cannot be serious. An Omega? You know exactly what that means. You’re talking about making her a—”

“I’m talking about saving her life,” Varon interrupted briskly. “This is mercy.”

“Mercy? Being treated like pack property is mercy? What the hell is wrong with all of you?!”

“Compared to a coffin? Yes, Nathaniel. This is mercy.” His father turned his back on him, looking directly at Ian. “Alpha, what do you think?”

Ian crossed his arms over his chest, c*****g his head to the side as if weighing the sheer entertainment value of this alternative. “We vote,” he declared.

Nate’s eyes were practically bleeding with fury, but I could see the exact moment the realization hit him:

He couldn't stop this.

Omegas were the absolute lowest rank in the pack hierarchy. In the werewolf world, they were basically glorified property. They cooked, they scrubbed, they served. They ate the scraps, spoke only when permitted, and slept in whatever damp corners nobody else wanted.

Omegas were slaves. That was the ugly word everyone dressed up in softer language, but it never changed the reality. Pack slaves.

I had been wolfless my entire miserable life. I’d been mocked, ignored, whispered about, and targeted by every bully in a ten-mile radius. But I had never been a slave.

My father had been a powerful warrior and my mother a powerful healer, so because of this, despite not having a wolf, I had never been entirely stripped of my basic rights and turned into an object to be ordered around.

Now, I was about to become lower than dirt in a pack that already treated me like dust.

The council members murmured quietly among themselves, heads nodding in unison. A heavy, suffocating tension built up in the room as the elders split into two distinct factions.

The vote was called.

One by one, the hands went up. Varon’s hand rose instantly, followed by five of the traditionalist elders who always sided with his harsh policies. Six votes for demotion.

Then, Elder Crane raised his voice. “Against,” he declared firmly. Five of the younger, more progressive council members immediately followed his lead, keeping their hands down in silent solidarity.

“Against,” Nate spat when it finally came to his turn. “I vote against.”

Six to six.

A dead split. Half the council had voted to strip my life away, and half had voted to protect me.

The air in the chamber turned entirely microscopic, the silence stretching so thin it felt like it would snap.

All eyes in the room slowly drifted away from the elders and locked directly onto Ian.

A tie.

So, the ultimate, tie-breaking word belonged entirely to the Alpha.

My entire existence was balanced on the head of a pin, and Ian Nightshade held the hammer.

He looked down at me. On my knees. In heavy chains. Sick, shaking, feverish, and covered in yesterday’s mud. I stared right back up at him. I refused to give him a single tear. I refused to give him the twisted satisfaction of watching me break.

I gave him my hate instead. All five years of it, packed into a single, lethal glare.

Something strange flickered behind his icy grey eyes. Quick. Unreadable. Confusion? Surprise?

Then it was gone, instantly replaced by the familiar look of profound loathing I knew all too well.

“I, Ian Nightshade, Alpha of the SilverCrest Pack, condemn Elara Lockwood to the rank of Omega. The punishment is effective immediately.”

The heavy wooden gavel came down.