THE WORTHLESS MATE OF THE ALPHA

Chapter 2

Lyra barely slept because every time she closed her eyes, she saw her mother's face. The same nightmares haunting her.

She woke gasping, her heart pounding, tears wet on her cheeks.

By the time light crept through her door, she was already exhausted.

But exhaustion didn't matter. Work mattered.

She forced herself off the thin mattress. Her ribs screamed. Her hands burned. Her stomach was empty. She dressed in her filthy uniform and made her way to the kitchen.

The pack was buzzing with activity. Everyone was preparing for the arrival of Alpha Ronan Blackthorne. Lyra had never seen them move so fast. Cooks prepared feasts. Servants cleaned every surface. Warriors polished their weapons.

She stayed in the shadows. Invisible.

"Lyra!" someone barked. "Help with the food."

She moved to the stove. Her hands trembled as she stirred the pots. The smells made her stomach cramp violently. She hadn't eaten in three days.

She pressed her hand against her hollow stomach and kept working.

By midday, the pack had transformed. The dining hall was decorated. Everyone was dressed in their finest. Even the Alpha seemed nervous.

Lyra stood in the corner of the kitchen, hidden from view. She watched the pack members file into the dining hall. Their faces were a mix of excitement and fear.

Ronan Blackthorne was coming. The most feared Alpha in the northern territories. He had destroyed packs that crossed him. He had killed Alphas who challenged him.

And he was coming here.

"Lyra," someone snapped. "Stop hiding. You're serving tonight."

Her blood went cold. "Serving?"

"Yes. Get out there."

She picked up a tray of food and walked into the dining hall.

The room was packed. The Alpha sat at the head of the table. Logan sat nearby, looking smug.

Lyra moved through the crowd, serving food. Her hands shook. Her vision swam. She kept her head down.

Don't look at anyone. Just work.

And then the doors opened.

A cold wind swept through the room. Everyone turned.

Alpha Ronan Blackthorne entered.

He was massive. Taller than any man she'd ever seen. His hair was black as night, his eyes the color of molten silver. His face was definitely carved by the moon goddess herself.

He moved like majestically.

His warriors followed him, spreading through the room. Their eyes scanned everything.

Lyra pressed herself against the wall.

The Alpha of Silver Creek rushed forward. "Alpha Ronan! Welcome!"

Ronan didn't acknowledge him. His silver eyes swept across the room. Observing everything and everyone.

And then his gaze passed over Lyra.

She felt it. A flicker of something. His eyes paused on her. Something inside her chest stirred.

The blood seal pulsed.

Lyra looked away quickly. Her heart was pounding.

The feast began.

Ronan took his seat. The Silver Creek Alpha groveled. Ronan barely acknowledged him.

"We have prepared a feast in your honor," the Alpha said. "We are prepared to offer you everything we have."

Ronan finally spoke. His voice was like frozen iron. "Everything you have isn't enough."

The room went silent.

"I don't want your resources," Ronan continued. "I want something else."

The Alpha paled. "What?"

Ronan didn't answer. His silver eyes swept the room again.

Lyra moved closer, carrying a tray. She placed it on the table near him.

And then it happened.

Ronan's head snapped toward her. His eyes locked on her face. He went completely still.

Lyra froze. Something inside her chest pulsed. Warm. Terrifying.

Ronan inhaled deeply. His pupils dilated. His jaw tightened. His entire body tensed.

"Your name," he said. His voice was deeper now. More intense.

The room went quiet.

Lyra's throat was dry. "L-Lyra Vale."

Something flickered in his silver eyes. Something she couldn't name.

She felt it too. A pull. A connection. Something reaching into her chest and grabbing hold.

No. She took a step back. The tray clattered to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

She turned and ran.

She didn't stop until she reached the storage room.

Lyra collapsed against the wall, trembling. Her heart was pounding. The blood seal on her chest was burning.

What was that?

She pressed her hand against her chest. She couldn't calm herself. Something had shifted.

She had felt it. A connection. A pull. A bond.

The word clawed at her from somewhere deep. She didn't want to believe it. But it was there, gnawing at her chest.

No. It couldn't be. She refused to believe it. Powerful Alphas had never meant anything good for her. Why would this one be any different?

She pressed her hands against her face and tried not to cry.

She stayed in the storage room for hours.

She heard the pack moving around her. Heard them laughing. But she didn't move.

Later in the night, she heard footsteps.

She froze. Her heart started pounding again. She pressed herself against the wall.

The door opened.

Ronan Blackthorne stood in the doorway. His silver eyes found her immediately.

"Lyra Vale," he said flatly.

She scrambled backward. "Please. I didn't do anything."

He stepped closer. His presence filled the tiny room. Suffocating.

"You're my mate," he said.

She shook her head frantically. "No. I'm nothing. I'm worthless."

Ronan grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His grip was firm.

She whimpered, expecting a blow.

But he just looked at her.

"You think I want this?" he said coldly. "You think I want a broken servant as my mate?"

Lyra flinched. The words cut deep.

"I don't want anyone," she whispered. "Especially not you."

Something flickered in Ronan's eyes. His grip loosened.

"Get some rest," he said, releasing her. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He left.

Lyra stayed frozen. She touched her chin where his fingers had been. The skin was warm.

She didn't know what was going to happen.

All she knew was that she was terrified.

She couldn't sleep.

She lay on her thin mattress. Her ribs ached. Her hands burned. Her stomach was empty.

And in her chest, the seal pulsed with unfamiliar warmth.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out everything. But the thoughts wouldn't stop.

No. She wouldn't accept it. Mates were forever. Mates couldn't be ignored. But this couldn't be real. It had to be a mistake.

She had seen the way he looked at her. Cold. Calculating. Like she was a problem to be solved.

Not a person. Not someone to be loved.

Just a complication.

She curled into a ball and prayed for the morning.