The Alpha's Lost Luna

Liz Sweat poured down my face as I scrubbed at the stain on the wooden floor in the hallway. The rag in my hand was already soaked through with murky gray water. The bucket beside me had turned cloudy from the amount of soap I had poured into it in a desperate attempt to make the board shine. My knees ached from kneeling for so long and the scent of cleaning chemicals stung my nose. I had already mopped this hallway once today. Apparently, that hadn't been good enough. According to Luna Faye, nothing I did was ever enough. I scrubbed harder, pressing my weight into the rag as if brute force — what little I could manage — alone could erase the faint discoloration from the scuff marks in the wood grain. The pack house floors were old. Beautiful, carved oak boards polished by generations of wolves walking the same halls. But that also meant stains had a way of settling deep where no amount of scrubbing could reach. Not that Luna Faye cared about that. Everything had to be perfect for today. Perfect for the Welcoming Ceremony. Perfect for the return of their heir. Rowan Steele. Our future alpha. And beside him, his chosen beta Cade Joyner. The names alone sent a shiver down my spine. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin, hackles lifting in a silent instinct to flee. I hadn't seen Rowan since I was fifteen years old. Six years. Six long years since he and Cade had left Coral Fang territory to attend Alpha Leadership Academy. That school was legendary among shifter packs. It was where future alphas and betas were sharpened into weapons. They learned strategy, combat, politics, war tactics, and ruthlessness. Boys left. Men returned. And Rowan Steele had always been dangerous, even before that training. When I last saw him, he had been arrogant and sharp-tongued, every bit the cocky alpha heir everyone expected him to be. Tall even then, broad shouldered even at nineteen. Always walking like the world naturally parted for him. Cade had been worse. Rowan's shadow. His right hand. The quiet kind of cruelty that didn't need raised voices to make people nervous. Even back then, they had moved like a perfectly balanced pair. Rowan the fire and power, Cade the blade. Now they were returning fully grown and fully trained. Fully powerful. The thought made the back of my neck prickle. I scrubbed harder. The pack house bustled around me like a kicked anthill. Servants rushed through the halls carrying flowers, linens, and platters of food. The scent of roasting meat drifted from the kitchen downstairs while omegas hurried past, balancing trays of crystal glasses and polished silverware. The Coral Fang packhouse was massive. Three sprawling floors of dark timber and carved stone are built into the cliffs overlooking the sea. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the western halls, offering a breathtaking view of the crashing waves and the jagged coastline. Visitors always described this place as beautiful. To me, it was a cage. The higher ranking wolves lived on the upper floors in sprawling private suites. Warriors filled the barracks wing. Guests had entire corridors dedicated to them. The omegas — servants like me, lived in the small basement rooms beneath the kitchen. Close enough to be summoned. Far enough away to stay out of sight. "Are you going to do your job or are you going to slack off all damned day?" The sharp bark of Beta Richard's — Cades father — Voice cut through the hallway like a whip. My shoulders jerked involuntarily. I flinched and scrubbed the floor faster. He was a man I tried very hard to avoid. Truthfully, I tried to avoid everyone here. But especially him and the alpha family. His boots echoed slowly against the polished wood as he approached. The heavy scent of dominance rolled off of him in waves. It was thick and suffocating. Meant to remind anyone nearby exactly where they stood in the pack hierarchy. At the very top were the alphas. Then betas. Then warriors. Then everyone else, like servants and regular pack members. Then there was me. Omegas were at the bottom. The bottom of the bottom. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, hoping — praying — he would simply keep walking. Luck had never been something I possessed. I felt the shove before I saw it coming. His boot slammed into my shoulder. I tumbled sideways, knocking into the bucket beside me. Sudsy water sloshed across the floorboards and splattered up my arms as the bucket overturned. I winced in pain, feeling my joints rattle against the force. I hit the floor hard, but I refused to make a sound. Men like Beta Richard thrived on that. Pain. Fear. Submission. He loved watching those beneath him squirm. Especially me. I had never seen him treat anyone else quite this harshly. Apparently, I was special. Lucky me. I slowly pushed myself upright, water dripping from my sleeves as I righted the bucket with shaking hands. I still didn't know what I had done to deserve the treatment I had earned and received my entire life. Maybe it was simply because I was an orphan. Then again... Maybe it was more than that. Everything I knew about my origins could fit inside a single paragraph. I had been found as a newborn. Wrapped in a blanket. Left on the rocky shoreline at the edge of Coral Fang territory. A storm had been rolling in that night. The waves had been rising high against the cliffs, crashing violently against the rocks. Two patrol wolves had been rushing home to avoid the storm when they heard crying. They found me tucked inside a narrow alcove between the stones. Tiny. Cold. Alone. That was all anyone ever told me. Well. That... and the taunts. The whispers. The cruel jokes that followed me through childhood. Even your own parents didn't want you. They left you for the sea. They hoped the waves would take you. Everything unoriginal and expected of the usual bullies. Only the usual bullies were everyone in this pack. Some days, though... part of me believed all of that to be true. Other days, I allowed myself to hope. No. To pray. That somewhere out there, there was a family looking for me. A family who wanted me. Loved me. That's what Gloria used to tell me. The memory struck my chest like a dull ache. Gloria had been the shewolf who took me in when I was a baby. She was the pack seamstress. Quiet, patient, always humming under her breath as she worked. She used to say that when she first saw me, wrapped in that storm-soaked blanket, she knew immediately that I was special. She was the only one who ever thought so. Gloria had been my entire world. And she died a year ago. A vampire attack near the northern border. They found her body mutilated in the sand along the shores. The pack had called it an unfortunate loss. To me, it had been the loss of the only person who had ever loved me. Now the small room she used to share with me felt unbearably empty. No warm hands brushing my hair after a bad day. No quiet reassurances whispered when the pack's cruelty became too much. No gentle patching up of cuts and bruises. I had learned to do that myself now. How to stitch wounds. How to hide bruises — not that anyone here cared if I was bruised or injured. They all just loved to add more. I had learned how to survive. Survival was something I had been doing since my very first breath. I had always wondered where I came from. Who my parents were. What traits I got from which parent. Who I looked like more. I wondered what I had done as a newborn that made them leave me behind. I shoved the thoughts aside as Beta Richard's footsteps moved closer. My body tensed automatically. Waiting. Bracing for the next blow. Instead, he crouched down in front of me. His thick fingers shot out and grabbed my chin. Hard. Pain shot through my jaw as his grip tightened. I already knew a bruise would bloom there later. "I suggest you clean this mess," he growled. His breath smelled faintly of tobacco and whiskey. "Unless you want me to get Alpha Marcus in here. I don't think he would like to see how little work you've done. Would you?" I tried to shake my head, but his grip held me in place. My throat closed with panic. I couldn't speak. I was an omega. At Coral Fang, that meant I was lower than everyone. Even the weakest wolf in the pack outranked me. My wolf whimpered inside of me, desperate to submit. She wanted to roll onto her back, expose our throat. Show every vulnerable part of our body in submission. The human side of me wanted to snarl in his face. Claw his eyes out. I hated this place. I hated being treated like this. I hated being abused. I hated being forced to work without wages, without freedom, without dignity. I wanted to leave. But I had nowhere to go. Going rogue wasn't an option. Not with the vampire threat growing stronger each year. Rogue wolves didn't last long out there. At least here... I survived. "Words!" Beta Richard barked. My body trembled. "No sir," I whispered. "No? No, you don't think he would like to see? Or no, you don't want me to get him?" "No sir, he wouldn't like it. Please. I will do my work." Outwardly, I did everything expected of me. I submitted. I obeyed. Shrank into the meek servant girl they all preferred. Inside my mind? I was imagining ten different ways to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. If only. "I guess even worthless mutts like yourself could have some brains in there somewhere," he sneered. His grip tightened once more before he shoved my face aside. "Our guests of honor will be here any minute." I collapsed forward onto the floor. For a brief moment, I allowed the anger to flash through my chest. Then I buried it. Deep. I stared at the wooden planks beneath me and forced myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Calm. Always calm. That was how you survived here. I slowly pushed myself back to my feet, gathered the overturned bucket, and dipped the rag back into the remaining soapy water. Better to finish quickly. Then I could disappear back to my room before the ceremony began. Because the last thing that I wanted... was to be anywhere near Rowan Steele when he returned. And judging by the way my wolf trembled beneath my skin... she agreed.