Chapter One

Slap!

The stinging echo of the slap reverberated through the kitchen, punctuating the oppressive silence.

Elena's cheek burned from the force, a fiery trail left in its wake. She winced but quickly buried her pain, focusing on the mound of dishes piled in the sink.

The cold, greasy water splashed against her raw, frostbitten fingers, intensifying the dull throb in her hand. Each plate she scrubbed felt like another weight added to her shoulders, the indignity of her position pressing down on her like a vice.

"Move faster, you useless Omega!" Lycia's voice was sharp, like a whip cutting through the stifling air. "You want to keep that hand? Clean those dishes properly!"

Elena's eyes stung with unshed tears, but she forced them back. Any sign of weakness would only provoke more of Lycia's venom.

Her movements quickened, driven by a desperate need to avoid further punishment. She worked furiously, her trembling hands turning the water into frothy bubbles, but the ache in her fingers was almost unbearable.

The clatter of plates and the chatter of other maids filled the room, blending into a monotonous hum.

Elena's focus was solely on her task when Lycia's commanding voice cut through the noise. "Elena, take this meal to the dining room! Prince Adrian is on his way, and I don’t want any delays."

Elena's heart skipped a beat. Prince Adrian—the name was a blend of reverence and awe among the pack. The son of the Alpha of the Bloodlust Pack, he had returned after four years of training. She had never met him but had heard stories of his prowess and commanding presence.

Nervously, she grabbed the tray from Lycia's outstretched hands, her fingers trembling as she balanced it. She made her way through the grand hallways, the opulence of the palace starkly contrasting with her meager existence.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors. The scent of rich food and fine wines wafted through the corridors, a reminder of the world she was perpetually on the fringes of.

The long dining table was a grand spectacle—elegant silverware and pristine tablecloths set against the backdrop of an exquisitely decorated room. Elena's breath caught in her throat as she placed the meal on the table. She could hear muffled voices and laughter emanating from behind the heavy wooden doors, filled with the Alpha King’s family and their esteemed guests.

Samantha, her best friend and fellow maid, appeared beside her, her eyes wide with a mix of hope and anxiety. "Elena, do you think we'll get a glimpse of Prince Adrian tonight?"

Elena sighed, trying to hide her frustration. "Samantha, we’re the lowest-ranking maids here. We’re just here to serve. The higher-ups rarely notice us."

"But," Samantha's voice held a hopeful lilt, "I heard Prince Adrian doesn’t have a Luna yet. What if he sees me and decides—"

Elena cut her off, her voice firm but kind. "Sam, you know the odds. We’re Omegas. High ranks don’t mingle with our kind."

"But it’s the Moon Goddess’s will," Samantha persisted, her eyes sparkling with a dreamer's hope.

Elena shook her head, trying to stifle her own flicker of disbelief. "The Moon Goddess has her ways, but it’s rare for her to choose an Omega for such a high position. We have our place."

The doors to the dining room creaked open, and the maids were summoned to clear the table. The conversation and laughter inside ceased abruptly as the Alpha King’s family exited, leaving Elena and Samantha to attend to the remnants of their meal.

Lycia gathered the maids afterward, her gaze sweeping over them with an air of superiority. "Remember, Prince Adrian’s return is crucial. His transition must be flawless. Don’t mess up!"

After the meeting, Elena and Samantha trudged back to their quarters. The narrow, dimly lit room held two beds—one stacked above the other. Elena settled onto the bottom bunk while Samantha clambered up to hers. The creaking of the beds and the rustling of blankets were the only sounds as they prepared for sleep.

Samantha’s voice broke the silence. "Elena, does your wolf ever talk to you?"

Elena's brow furrowed. "Not lately. She said she needed time when I turned eighteen."

"But you’re twenty now," Samantha said, her voice filled with concern. "That’s a long time."

"I know," Elena replied, trying to sound reassuring. "But she’ll come around. I’m sure of it."

"What if she doesn’t?" Samantha’s voice was a whisper of doubt.

Elena shrugged, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "Then I suppose I’ll be one of the rare few without a wolf."

Samantha's silence was heavy with unspoken thoughts, but she eventually gave up and pulled her blanket up to her chin. "Goodnight, Elena."

Elena lay awake long after Samantha's breathing had evened out, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts churned. The weight of her existence, the constant struggle, and the distant hope of her wolf’s return occupied her mind. She entered the palace at eighteen, coming from an institution where orphaned she-wolves were assigned to be maids or servants, while the he-wolves could choose from other menial jobs.

Everything from the orphanage was Omega, the lowest rank of all werewolves. Her rank may rise by social standing, but for someone like her from an orphanage, she had to accept her fate.

In the middle of the night, she was jolted awake by an inexplicable heat. Sweat trickled down her temples as she realized she could no longer breathe comfortably. Her discomfort drove her to seek relief, so she slipped out of bed and ventured outside, her bare feet padding softly on the cold stone floor.

The servants’ mini-garden at the back of the palace offered a brief respite from the suffocating heat. Elena settled onto a weathered cement chair, the cool night air soothing her flushed skin. She leaned back, letting the tranquility of the garden envelop her.

Her eyes were drawn to the moon, its silvery light casting a serene glow over the garden. She was lost in the peacefulness when a sudden grip on her arm startled her.

She spun around, her heart racing as she found herself face-to-face with a man. His presence was commanding, his features hidden in the shadows of the night.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Her voice wavered, a mix of fear and confusion.

"Mate," the man’s voice was filled with awe.

Elena's breath caught in her throat. "Mate? Are you saying I’m your mate?"

The man didn’t respond. Instead, he tightened his grip and pulled her closer. Panic surged through her as she tried to pull away. "Let me go!" she demanded, but her struggles were futile.

In one swift movement, he lifted her into his arms, leaped over the garden’s gate, and vanished into the forest.