Clara.
“Just keep your head down tonight,” Maya whispered, not looking up from the stew she was ladling.
“Is he worse than usual?” I asked, my hands trembling as I arranged bread slices on a wooden platter.
“He broke Liam’s arm this afternoon,” she said, her voice flat. “For looking at him too long.”
I swallowed hard. “What’s the reason?”
Maya finally glanced at me, her eyes wide with fear. “Does there ever need to be a reason, Clara? He’s the Alpha. That’s reason enough.”
She was right. In the Silver Moon Pack, Alpha Boran’s whims were law, and his cruelty was the air we breathed. I hated it. I hated every splinter in the floorboards of this rundown hall, every sneer from the pack warriors, every moment I had to bow my head and pretend I was nothing.
“The wine for the head table,” the head cook grunted, shoving a heavy decanter into my hands. “And try not to spill it this time, you useless thing.”
I clutched the cool glass, my knuckles white. The wine was a deep, blood red. It seemed fitting.
I walked toward the raised platform where Boran sat, his hulking frame overflowing his carved chair. He was laughing with his Betas, a booming, ugly sound that made my stomach clench.
Every step felt like walking through thick mud. All I had to do was pour the wine and walk away. Just pour the wine. Don’t trip. Don’t shake. Don’t exist.
“Look at her,” one of the warriors at a nearby table sneered. “Scuttling like a rat.”
“She’s not much more than that,” another laughed.
I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, on the worn wood, on anything but the Alpha.
I was almost there. Just a few more feet. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror.
Then, a foot shot out. I didn’t see who it belonged to. I just felt my ankle catch, my body lurching forward with a gasp.
The decanter flew from my hands. Time seemed to slow as the dark red liquid arced through the air, a perfect, terrible wave.
It crashed directly onto Alpha Boran’s chest, splashing across his pristine white tunic.
The entire hall fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. The laughter died. The chatter stopped. Two hundred pairs of eyes were on me.
Boran looked down at the spreading stain, his expression unreadable. Then, very slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine.
“Alpha,” I stammered, my voice a pathetic squeak. “I’m so sorry. It was… it was an accident. I tripped.”
He dabbed a finger in the wine on his chest and brought it to his lips, tasting it. His eyes were chips of ice.
“An accident,” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft.
“Yes, Alpha. I swear it.”
He stood up. The scraping of his chair was the only sound in the vast hall. He was a mountain of a man, and his shadow fell over me, cold and complete.
“You have ruined my tunic,” he said, still in that quiet tone that was so much more terrifying than his roars.
“I can wash it, Alpha. I’ll get the stain out. I promise.” My words tumbled over each other, desperate and useless.
He took a step toward me. I scrambled back, falling onto the hard floor. He didn't even flinch. He just kept coming.
He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like steel talons. A cry of pain escaped my lips.
“You are a clumsy, worthless Omega,” he growled, his voice now a low rumble of thunder. “And property that is broken must be taught a lesson.”
He started dragging me out of the hall. No one moved. No one spoke. Not Maya. Not the cook. Not a single wolf dared to meet my pleading eyes.
“Please, Alpha,” I begged, stumbling to keep up with his long strides. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“Your apologies are as worthless as you are,” he snarled, yanking me down a dark corridor toward the cellars.
The cold, damp air hit me first. The smell of mildew and old blood. This was where he took wolves to break them. Some never came back.
He threw me down the stone steps. I tumbled, my head cracking against the wall. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and pain shot through my whole body.
I lay in a heap on the filthy floor, gasping for breath.
He descended the stairs slowly, deliberately, his heavy boots echoing in the oppressive silence.
“You think you can embarrass me in front of my pack?” he asked, kicking my ribs. I curled into a ball, a sob tearing from my throat.
“No, Alpha. Never.”
“You are a stain,” he said, his voice laced with venom. “A blight on the Silver Moon Pack. Your weakness infects us all.”
Another kick, this one to my stomach. It stole the air from my lungs.
“Every time I look at you, I am reminded of how far we have fallen, that we allow creatures like you to even eat at our tables.”
His fists came next. I tried to shield my face, but his strength was overwhelming. Pain was a white-hot fire, consuming everything. I tasted blood, metallic and thick in my mouth.
“Pathetic,” he spat. “You won’t even fight back.”
My vision started to blur. The edges of the dark cellar swam and faded. I could feel my bones grinding, my spirit shattering.
“No one will even remember your name,” he said, his voice sounding distant now, as if from the end of a long tunnel.
Is this it? I thought, a strange sense of calm settling over the agony. Is this how I die? On a cold, dirty floor, forgotten by everyone.
The world went dark. The pain began to recede, replaced by a floating, empty numbness.
I was fading. Slipping away.
Good. Let it end.
Then, something shifted. A light bloomed behind my closed eyes. Not the dim torchlight from the cellar, but a brilliant, searing silver light that exploded through the darkness.
It wasn't hot. It was cool, like moonlight on fresh snow. It wrapped around me, a comforting blanket against the encroaching void.
A voice echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. It was calm, feminine, and held more power than a thousand Alphas.
“Not today, little one.”
I woke with a gasp. My eyes flew open. I was still on the cellar floor. The torch on the wall had burned down to a nub, casting long, flickering shadows. Boran was gone.
I sat up, expecting a symphony of agony. Nothing. I felt… fine. Better than fine. My body felt warm, humming with a strange energy.
“How is this possible?” I whispered to the empty room.
I touched my face, my ribs, my arms. There were no cuts. No bruises. No broken bones. The blood on the floor was mine, I was sure of it, but my body was completely healed. My torn tunic was the only evidence of the beating.
I pushed myself to my feet, my legs steady beneath me.
“A dream?” I wondered aloud. “Was it just a nightmare?”
But I knew it wasn’t. The memory of the pain, the feel of his fists, was too real. Too visceral.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a murky puddle of water on the floor. I knelt down, confused, and peered closer.
My own face stared back at me. Pale, smudged with dirt, but whole. My hair was matted with dried blood. My lips were swollen but healing.
And my eyes.
One was the same dull brown it had always been. But the other… the other one was glowing. It wasn't brown anymore. It was a brilliant, luminous violet, shimmering with an inner light, like a trapped nebula.
I stared, my breath caught in my throat. I raised a trembling hand to my face, touching the skin around the impossible eye. It was real.
Panic seized me, cold and sharp. This was wrong. This was unnatural. If Boran saw this, he wouldn’t just beat me. He would kill me. He would call it witchcraft, a curse. He would tear me apart.
I had to hide it. Now.
I scrambled around the cellar, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I found a scrap of dirty leather, torn from an old wine skin.
My hands shook as I folded it and tied it around my head, covering the glowing violet eye. The world became dimmer, half-seen.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, the rough leather scratching against my skin. It would have to do.
No one could see this. No one could ever know.
