THE ALPHA'S CURSED BLOOD

Aria is a poor omega, despised in the Crescent Moon Pack. Every wolf in the territory knows her name not for greatness or bravery, but for the sins of a man long dead. Her grandfather, Elias, had once been the Beta of the pack, proud and powerful, until the day everything changed. He had caused the death of the previous Alpha his closest friend and the Alpha’s mate, leaving behind only their son, Adrian, who was barely a teenage wolf. The tragedy tore through the pack like wildfire, leaving scars that never healed. Now, years later, Aria bore those scars though she had done nothing to earn them. She kept her head low as she crossed the muddy path leading to the packhouse, clutching a worn basket filled with freshly washed linens. Her bare feet were cold against the damp earth, and the morning mist clung to her hair. The other omegas were already bustling around, cleaning, cooking, and doing whatever was required to keep the higher ranking wolves comfortable. But even among omegas, Aria was an outcast. “Move, curse-born,” one of the kitchen girls hissed as Aria passed. The words stung, though Aria had learned to hide her pain behind a quiet, practiced smile. She stepped aside silently, letting the others brush past. She was used to it—the sneers, the whispers, the pitying glances from those too kind to speak openly. It had been this way her entire life. Her grandfather’s crime had marked her bloodline forever, and no amount of obedience or humility could wash it clean. As she entered the packhouse, the scent of cedar and dominance hit her like a wave. Alpha Adrian was home. Her heartbeat quickened. Though she had seen him countless times from afar, she always tried to avoid crossing his path. He was nothing like the frightened boy he’d once been. Now, he was a full-grown Alpha—strong, commanding, and every bit the leader his people needed. But his icy blue eyes held no forgiveness when they landed on her. She had overheard the elders once, whispering about the night his parents died. How Elias’s betrayal had shattered the pack’s unity. How Adrian had vowed that the blood of traitors would never again taint Crescent Moon. And yet here Aria was—a living reminder of that vow. “Aria!” a sharp voice snapped, pulling her from her thoughts. It was Luna Celeste, the Alpha’s aunt and acting mistress of the packhouse. “ The Alpha’s quarters need cleaning. Now.”Aria froze. “Y-Yes, Luna,” she stammered, bowing her head. Her hands trembled as she climbed the stairs, the basket of linens pressed tightly to her chest. The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near Adrian. But refusing an order from the Luna would only bring punishment. The Alpha’s scent grew stronger as she neared his chambers—warm cedar, forest air, and something darker that made her wolf stir uneasily inside her. She knocked once. No answer. Carefully, she pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, the morning light filtering through half-drawn curtains. She set down the basket and began her work quietly, dusting the shelves and straightening the bedding. She was almost done when she heard it—a deep voice behind her. “What are you doing in my room?” Her heart stopped. Aria turned slowly, her gaze falling on the man who ruled her world. Adrian stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the light. His piercing blue eyes locked onto her with a mixture of anger and something she couldn’t name. She dropped her gaze immediately. “Luna Celeste sent me, Alpha. I—I was just cleaning.” Silence stretched between them. Then, his voice came again, low and edged with steel. “Next time, you wait for permission before stepping foot into my space. Do you understand, omega?” “Yes, Alpha,” she whispered. She tried to continue her task, but the weight of his presence pressed on her like a physical force. Her hands trembled so badly that she could barely grip the duster. Her every movement felt wrong, clumsy—too loud, too shaky, too human. Her fingers brushed the edge of a porcelain vase, and before she could stop herself, it slipped from her grasp and shattered against the floor. Aria gasped, her stomach twisting. She dropped to her knees, trying to gather the pieces, but her hands were shaking too violently. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—” In her panic, she stood too quickly, her foot catching on the edge of the rug. She stumbled forward, the clean linens falling from her arms in a heap. Her breath came fast and uneven as she tried to fix the mess she’d made. “Get a grip, Aria,” she muttered under her breath, blinking back tears. But it was already too late. The sound of his growl filled the room—a deep, rumbling warning that made her wolf shrink inside her. “Enough.” The word snapped through the air like a whip. Aria froze, her chest heaving. Adrian’s face was shadowed with fury, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. “What the hell are you doing, omega?” he spat. “You can’t even clean a simple room without making a fool of yourself?” Her throat burned as she tried to speak, but no words came out. She could only bow her head lower, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. He took a step closer, and the sheer force of his dominance made her knees weak. “Leave. Now.” His voice was sharp, final, and filled with barely contained rage. Aria’s heart lurched. She nodded quickly, nearly tripping as she scrambled backward. Her hands brushed the doorframe as she turned and fled, the sound of her hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. The moment the door slammed behind her, she pressed herself against the wall, her breath shaky and uneven. Her entire body trembled, her palms stung from the cuts of the broken vase, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She had failed again. The rest of the day passed in a blur. The whispers followed her everywhere—some mocking, some pitying—but all reminding her of the same cruel truth. She would never be good enough. Not for the pack. Not for anyone. As night fell and the moon rose high over the Crescent Moon territory, Aria sat alone behind the servants’ quarters, staring up at the glowing orb that ruled their kind. Her wolf whimpered softly within her chest, aching for comfort, for belonging. But the only thing she felt was emptiness. In the grand halls of the packhouse, Alpha Adrian paced in silence, his jaw tight, his thoughts far from peaceful. He told himself it was anger that lingered in his chest—that he couldn’t stand the sight of her. But deep down, something else stirred. Something he didn’t understand. And for the first time in years, Adrian found himself haunted not by the ghosts of his past but by the trembling, silver-eyed omega who bore the name of the man he could never forgive