Chapter 1

Golden lights glistened in the Silverbow Pack's magnificent hall. As the pack celebrated another year of supremacy, there was a lot of conversation and laughter. I was standing in the far corner with a tray full of wine goblets. The visitors' clean suits and flowing gowns stood in sharp contrast to my tattered clothing.

Slave, hurry up!” a savage voice yelled.

I recoiled and rushed over to the table where Lydia, the daughter of the Beta, and her friends were seated. She scowled at me while her perfectly manicured nails drummed anxiously on the wooden table.

I bowed my head and put the goblet in front of her, murmuring, "Yes, ma'am."

"Are you able to slow down?" Lydia's voice could be heard across the nearby tables as she scoffed. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as laughter burst around me.

"I apologize, ma'am," I said as I took a step back, my hands shaking.

Lydia's voice was full of hate as she leaned in closer. "Avoid just standing there." Get more wine. Or are you too dim-witted to follow basic directions?

I gave a short nod, avoiding the heat of the tears that threatened to spill and turned to go. I heard murmuring as I walked back to the kitchen.

"She is so pitiful."

"It's unbelievable that they allowed her to serve at such events."

"A disgrace."

I tightened my fists and forced myself to remain composed. I lived a life of humiliation, taunts, and unending servitude. Since my parents were murdered and I was abandoned as a ward—no, a slave—of the Silverbow Pack, things had been this way.

A strange silence descended upon the hall as I approached the kitchen. I stopped and looked back to see what had caused the room to go quiet.

He was here.

The Silverbow Pack's Alpha, Thorne Maddox, stormed into the hall. His big shoulders and sharp features made him an intimidating presence. He appeared dangerous even in his fitted black suit, like a creature poised to attack.

He looked around the room with sharp silver eyes, and the audience echoed with gasps and whispers. Conversations were forgotten as everyone's focus turned to him.

I overheard one of the pack members mutter, "He's so handsome."

Deadly, too. Have you heard about last week's events at the Renegade camp?

I tried to look away, but I couldn't resist taking a quick peek. The air surrounding him felt heavy because of his strong aura. For reasons I couldn't explain, my heart began to speed as his gaze swept across the room.

And then he looked at me.

My breath caught. I was momentarily stunned by his inspection. I felt a strange pull tighten my chest, and his silver eyes seemed to penetrate right through me.

Someone said in a disbelieving undertone, "Why is he looking at her?"

I bowed my head and hastily averted my gaze. I couldn't afford to attract notice, particularly from him. Trouble was the last thing I needed.

The silence was broken by Thorne's voice. "Keep the party going," he ordered in a firm and commanding voice.

The throng complied, and the commotion nearly instantly returned, but I could still feel his gaze on me. With my heart racing, I rushed back into the kitchen.

"Who is she assuming she is?" As I walked past Lydia's table one more, she growled. Standing there as if she were significant. She is merely a slave.

I refused to respond, keeping my head down. It would only get worse if we argued.

I busied myself pouring drinks and wiping up spills as the evening went on. But despite my best efforts to remain inconspicuous, I couldn't get rid of the sensation that I was being observed. I would occasionally get a glimpse of Thorne, his eyes darting toward me and then swiftly averting.

One of the elder servers whispered to me, "Melissa." "Are you alright? You appear pallid.

I lied and said, "I'm fine."

However, I wasn't okay. It was unsettling to feel this weird tug toward Thorne. It was more than just terror; there was a deeper meaning to it that I couldn't comprehend.

He's dangerous, a small voice warned in the back of my head.

I was called to the head table to clear away empty glasses as the feast ended. While working, my hands remained steady, but when I sensed Thorne's eyes once more, my heartbeat accelerated.

His voice was low but clear as he leaned in to speak to one of his Betas. "Who is she?"

"Alpha, the slave girl," the Beta shot back with contempt. "She goes by Melissa. Since she was a puppy, she has lived with us.

Thorne's gaze grew strained. "What makes her feel... familiar?"

My heart thumping in my chest, I froze. Was I someone he recognized? That was not feasible. He and I had never been close.

A deep growl rumbled through their bond as his inner wolf roused. My friend.

Thorne's jaw tensed as his wolf's declaration replayed in his head.

"It's impossible," he whispered to himself.

“Alpha?” the Beta asked, confused.

Thorne's chair scraped the floor as he suddenly stood up. Everyone at the table was startled and alerted by the movement.

He brushed past them as he walked out of the hall, saying icily, "Pardon me."

As I watched him leave, uneasiness tightened in my chest. What had just taken place?

Lydia watched him go with a sly smile. "It appears that even the powerful Thorne has his limitations," she remarked in a tone full of satisfaction.

My mind was racing, so I ignored her and concentrated on tidying up. What had caused Thorne's reaction? What did he find unsettling about me?

I couldn't get rid of the feeling that something had changed as I walked back to the kitchen. The attraction to Thorne was more intense now, nearly intolerable.

It didn't matter, though. He was the Alpha, and I was a slave. Whatever odd bond I experienced was pointless.

Or so I believed.

That night, as I lay in my tiny cot, Thorne's voice reverberated in my head, his previous remarks still lingering.

"Not possible."

Why did he give me that look? What was he contemplating?

Then I heard it—his wolf's deep growl, reverberating in my head like a far-off storm as I fell into a restless sleep.

My friend.

My heart was racing as my eyes sprung open.

"What is meant by this?" With confusion and terror churning within me, I whispered to myself.

Thorne sat by himself in his quarters, far away, his wolf growling once more as his fists were clenched.

She is our partner.

"No," he growled

, his voice full of denial and rage. "She can't be."

But he knew the truth in his heart. It also frightened him.