Maria

It was over, completely, shamefully, irreversibly over.

I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, I shouldn’t have stood there with hope trembling in my chest like a fool waiting to be granted mercy. I should’ve kept my head down, stayed invisible, and slipped quietly out of Moon Bridge while they were too wrapped up in Vanessa to notice I was gone.

I could have escaped, I screamed at myself in my head, sick with the realization. I could have melted into the dark forest, taken my chances as a rogue again, risked hunters, risked death, anything would have been better than this.

What was I even thinking?

Why did I believe even for a second they would listen?

I had forgotten my place, forgotten the chains that kept me tethered to four powerful Alphas who saw me as nothing but debt and inconvenience.

And now...Now I was trapped.

Five long years stretched out before me like a sentence carved into stone. Five years of enduring their moods, their commands, their mocking smirks and cruel tests. Five years of swallowing my pride while my heart rotted inside a cage.

Humiliation, pain, servitude, wrapped up neatly as repayment for a life I didn’t ask them to save.

They should have let me bleed out in the forest that night, should have turned their backs and left me to the cold.M, death would have been kinder.

Final.

Predictable.

But they dragged me here, patched me up, stamped a debt on my forehead, and now called it justice.

The tears slid down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying. Hot, silent streams that pooled on my lips and fell to the wooden floor.

No one wiped them.

No one cared.

Aidan left the room with his rigid posture and iron voice still echoing in the air, and with him went the last fragile thread of hope I had been clutching.

Five years.

My chest tightened so sharply I could barely inhale. My fingers trembled where they pressed against the floor.

What was I supposed to do now?

Wake up every morning and pretend my spirit wasn’t being crushed a little more each day?

I didn’t even hear Damien until he lowered himself to my level, until his shadow swallowed mine and his fingers clamped around my chin.

His grip was firm, borderline painful, but his smile, oh gods, that smile was worse.

It was lazy, amused, like he was watching a child throw a tantrum.

A chuckle slipped from his lips, deep and cold. "Well, well," he drawled, tilting my head from side to side as if inspecting me. "Crocodile tears. That’s exactly what you’re shedding."

I flinched as his thumb swiped across my cheek, smearing the tears rather than drying them. His touch wasn’t tender, yet it was mocking, possessive, a reminder of who held power in the room and who had none.

Then he leaned closer, lips brushing dangerously near my ear. "Now be a good girl," he murmured, every syllable dipped in casual menace, "and go fetch my meal. I’m hungry."

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped to a dark rumble that slithered under my skin.

"Unless," he added, "you want me to devour you instead."

I went rigid, bones locking, breath freezing halfway through my lungs. His breath fanned across my neck, hot and unsettling, and for a split second I thought he might actually carry out the threat, drag me closer, sink his frustration into my mouth again like he had earlier.

Something primal flashed in his eyes, something feral and dangerously close to losing control.

My heartbeat tripped, stuttered, then thundered so loudly I was sure he could hear it. But I forced myself to gather what remained of my strength, the scraps of dignity they hadn’t managed to tear apart yet.

I pushed against the floor and rose slowly, every movement a battle. My knees screamed from the impact of hitting the ground earlier. My body ached from the shove, from fatigue, from carrying tensions and fears that never loosened.

Still, I stood.

Still, I turned away.

Still, I walked.

Damien’s gaze burned into my back like branded iron as I hurried toward the door, but I didn’t dare look at him again. I didn’t want to see if he was smirking or glowering or imagining forcing my mouth open again.

I just needed to move, to get out, before I broke right there at his feet.

So I left, shaking, blinking through tears, chest clawing against itself, because I knew if I stayed another second, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from screaming, or crying harder, or... worse.

I headed straight for the kitchen, wiping at my eyes as I walked, trying to push back the sting still burning behind them. My pace was quick, more out of instinct than duty, anything to put distance between myself and Damien’s voice echoing in my head.

The kitchen lights were dim, most lanterns already doused for the night, leaving long shadows curling against the walls.

My palms felt clammy as I gripped the silver trolley, pulling it closer. The wheels squeaked softly, loud enough to grate against my nerves, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

Food, trays, cutlery, order.

Within the few days, no, few torturous days, I had been here, which dragged like a full year wrapped in iron chains, I had learned more than I ever wanted to. Mostly because making mistakes meant bruises or punishments.

I had memorized their meal preferences down to the smallest ridiculous detail. Damien hated his meat even slightly undercooked. Aidan wanted nothing touching anything else on the plate. Adrein liked extra spices, enough to burn anyone else’s tongue, and Davian... well, he barely ate at all.

My hands moved automatically as I arranged Damien’s tray perfectly. Meat. Vegetables. Bread. The smallest garnish where he preferred it. I placed every piece with the precision of someone whose life depended on it, because here, it practically did.

The smell of roasted venison filled the air, and my stomach cramped painfully.

I hadn’t eaten.

Again.

But hunger didn’t matter. Nothing about me mattered.

Once everything was neatly placed, I set the lid over the tray, loaded the trolley, and pushed it toward the hall.

My feet dragged slightly, exhaustion weighing them down, but I forced myself forward. I was halfway to Damien’s room when something caught my eye.

A flicker of movement down the corridor, a soft whisper, then a figure.

Galen.

Her petite silhouette was unmistakable, even in the low glow of torches.

But she wasn’t alone.

That same man, tall, hooded, his scent faintly unfamiliar, stood close to her. Too close.

My steps slowed instinctively, and the trolley bumped softly against the wall.

At this hour?

My stomach twisted.

What was going on with her?

These halls were meant to be empty this late. Maids were supposed to be in the servants’ wing. Guests were confined to annex rooms until morning.

Was he the guest assigned to her?

Has someone granted her permission?

None of it made sense, and I shouldn’t have cared. I already had enough of my own pain to choke on, physical, emotional, mental. The last thing I needed was to stick my nose in matters that didn’t concern me.

But something about the scene rooted me to the spot.

Galen leaned forward, glancing over her shoulder as if terrified of being caught.

The man reached out, his hand closing around hers.

Then he passed her something small, carefully wrapped, more like it was folded three times, precise and secretive.

My heart lodged in my throat. My instinct screamed that whatever it was, it wasn’t harmless.

Drugs?

Medicine?

Poison?

I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Galen stuffed it inside her apron quickly, whispered something too hushed to catch, and stepped back.

Before either of them noticed me watching, I wrenched my gaze away and forced myself to keep walking. It wasn’t my business. I reminded myself again and again like a chant, though unease churned in the pit of my stomach.

If I asked questions, I’d get slapped or worse. If I told anyone, I’d be accused of lying. If I got involved, I would break long before five years passed.

So I pushed the trolley faster and headed straight back to Damien’s room, willing the memory of Galen’s exchange to scatter like dust.

The door was barely open a crack before his voice lashed out.

"What took you so long?"

The harshness of it slammed against me like a blow. I hadn’t even stepped inside yet, but I lowered my head instantly.

"I... forgive my sluggishness, Alpha," I muttered, pushing the trolley over the threshold. My voice came out thin and breathless.

I placed the plate on the stool by his chair with gentle precision, careful not to spill a drop or clatter a fork.

He didn’t respond.

Instead, I felt the air shift.

A heavy silence.

Then footsteps, slow, deliberate.

My head lifted a fraction on instinct, and I found myself staring into a pair of eyes that no longer looked human, it was glazed, ravenous, and wild.

"Run," my wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, fur standing on end.

"Oh no. Flee!" she urged, frantic.

My spine stiffened. I turned to obey her command immediately, ready to bolt, anywhere, anywhere but here.

But Damien was fast, too fast.

His hand clamped around my wrist before I could take a single step. His grip burned, hot, desperate, unyielding. Only then did I notice the light flooding through the window.

The moon, huge, full, dominating the sky like a silver eye.

My breath stilled.

His pupils dilated.

A growl vibrated in his chest. His lips curled back slightly, revealing the hint of fangs.

Damien wasn’t just angry.

He was gone.

His wolf, massive, primal, untamed, was in full control.

And I was trapped with him.