Chapter 2: Shadows of Servitude

Chapter 2: Shadows of Servitude

The grand marble floors of the Alpha’s mansion stretched out before Cassia in an endless labyrinth of gleaming white, as though mocking her reflection with every drag of the cloth across their surface. The early morning chill seeped through her bones, but she barely noticed it—years of conditioning had taught her to numb herself to cold, to pain, to the ache in her joints as she worked tirelessly. Today, however, was different; an unusual tension lingered in the air, sharpening her senses, reminding her of her place.

“Make sure it’s spotless.” An enforcer had barked at her earlier, his voice laced with disdain. “The Beta of the Blackwood Pack arrives today, and the Alpha’s reputation must be upheld.” He sneered, eyes flashing with a dangerous promise. “Don’t mess this up, Cassia.”

Cassia’s hands trembled as she scrubbed, the coarse rag scratching against her already-raw skin. She was no stranger to harsh tasks, but something about today twisted her stomach in knots. Why am I their personal slave? The question simmered, one she dared not voice, even in the emptiness of her mind. She knew the answer, had lived with it for years. But today, the injustice felt sharper.

Why do they have dozens of servants, yet always make me do this alone?

She kept her head down, focusing on each swipe of the rag, drowning out the bitterness swirling inside. But her concentration faltered, and with it, memories she had buried long ago clawed their way to the surface—dark, vivid reminders of a rejection that still haunted her.

She could still feel his hands on her, the heated touch of Alpha Rhett against her skin, each caress stirring hope in her heart. The night he had taken her, she had believed, foolishly, that perhaps, just perhaps, he would choose her as his mate. He had been gentle that night, almost tender—a stark contrast to the cruel, detached demeanor he wore in public. She had let herself believe in the lie that flickered in his eyes, a sliver of kindness, a moment of weakness where she thought she saw something real.

But that fleeting kindness had been a cruel deception.

The morning after, Rhett had stood over her, his expression cold and unreadable. She remembered how his lips had curled into a sneer, his voice slicing through her with the efficiency of a blade.

“Did you really think a mutt like you could ever be my mate?”

His words had shattered her. She had sat there, naked and vulnerable, unable to process the cold finality in his tone. Any hope she had clung to dissolved, leaving behind a hollow ache. And just when she thought she couldn’t feel smaller, he had added, “You’re a disgrace, Cassia. A taint on this pack, the cursed daughter of a traitor. Consider yourself lucky I even looked at you.”

He hadn’t just rejected her; he had stripped her of her dignity, casting her into a pit of shame and self-loathing. And since that day, every glance he spared her was filled with disdain, every order he gave was a reminder of her unworthiness.

A flicker of pain crossed her face as she scrubbed the floor with renewed fervor, as if she could erase the memories with each swipe. Her wolf, Lynx, stirred restlessly within her, whispering words of caution that she barely heard over the roar of her own thoughts.

“You’re not worthless, Cassia.”

“I am,” she responded silently. I have to be, or why would they treat me like this?

The whisper of footsteps brought her back to the present, and she glanced up to see Lady Morwenna, Alpha Rhett’s mother, descending the grand staircase. She was the embodiment of aristocratic elegance, with hair the color of midnight streaked with silver, twisted into an elaborate crown braid. Her dark green gown trailed behind her, glinting with intricate embroidery of gold, marking her rank and authority. But Cassia knew the cold steel beneath that exterior—Lady Morwenna was as ruthless as her son, if not more so.

“Ah, the cursed wretch.” Lady Morwenna’s voice sliced through the silence, her gaze landing on Cassia as if she were dirt sullying the pristine hall. “Still on your knees, I see. Right where you belong.”

Cassia fought the urge to flinch, tightening her grip on the rag. The sting of Lady Morwenna’s words was familiar, yet they still cut deep, reopening old wounds that had barely begun to scar. She lowered her gaze, swallowing the retort that bubbled up, knowing all too well that defiance would only earn her more punishment.

“Pathetic,” Lady Morwenna muttered, her lips curling into a smile that held no warmth. “You bring nothing but shame to this pack. The cursed blood of a traitor flows in your veins, and no amount of scrubbing will ever wash that away.”

Cassia’s heart clenched, shame and anger twisting together in a toxic mix. She could feel Lynx stirring within her, the wolf’s hackles rising, a growl of defiance simmering beneath her skin. But Cassia silenced her wolf, forced her emotions into submission. Reacting would only make things worse.

Lady Morwenna swept past her, leaving behind the scent of lavender and venom, and Cassia exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she looked down, her knuckles white against the rag.

The hours dragged by, each one marked by a litany of thankless tasks and whispered insults from those who passed her by. None of the maids would dare to offer her a moment’s respite—Alpha Rhett’s orders had seen to that. She was beneath them all, even the lowest-ranked servants.

By the time she reached the grand staircase, polishing each step until it gleamed, her mind was clouded with exhaustion. That was when she heard the voices from the entrance hall—a mix of low murmurs and sharp commands, accompanied by the unmistakable presence of authority.

Cassia looked up just in time to see him.

The Beta from the Blackwood Pack.

Lucian was his name, she overheard from a passing enforcer. He stood tall and powerful, with a commanding presence that seemed to fill the entire hall. Dark hair framed his face, strands falling just above his brows, casting shadows that accentuated his intense gaze. His eyes, a piercing shade of onyx, scanned the room, and for a brief moment, they settled on her.

A chill ran down Cassia’s spine, her heart pounding as their eyes met. Lucian’s gaze lingered on her, unreadable, yet something in his look stirred something deep within her—a strange pull, a magnetic force that she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t like the mate bond she had once felt for Rhett; this was different, darker, a promise of something forbidden.

Cassia quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing as she resumed her work, hoping no one had noticed the brief exchange. But Lynx stirred within her, a warning laced in her voice.

“Cassia, be careful. This man…”

What about him? she asked silently, her mind still reeling from the intensity of his gaze.

“He’s dangerous,” Lynx murmured, her tone wary. “I can feel it. There’s something… dark about him.”

Cassia dismissed the thought, though the memory of Lucian’s gaze lingered, haunting her. She couldn’t afford to let herself be drawn in by a stranger, especially not one from another pack. But a small, rebellious part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be free from the chains Rhett had bound her with, to feel something other than shame and fear.

Later that night, after the mansion had finally fallen silent, Cassia lay in her small, drafty room, staring up at the cracked ceiling. Rhett’s voice echoed in her mind, a relentless reminder of her unworthiness, of the chains he had wrapped around her heart. But another image crept into her thoughts—Lucian’s dark, enigmatic gaze, the way he had looked at her as if she were something more than a cursed servant.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind torn between fear and curiosity, hope and despair. Lynx’s warning echoed in her mind, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting, that her life was on the brink of a dangerous, irreversible change.

And as the darkness closed in around her, Cassia found herself wondering if this was the beginning of her freedom—or the beginning of her downfall.