Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 18

Betrayed by Blood~

I knelt down, scrubbing the floors as hard as I could when I saw a pair of shoes stop right in front of me. I slowly looked up to see the head maid in front of me, glaring hard, her arms crossed over her chest. "Can I help you?" I asked politely, not missing the scowl on her face.

"Why are you here? Didn’t you check your chores for today?" She snapped at me. I straightened up, my eyebrows furrowing at her words. I had checked my chores for today, and washing the bathroom was included in it.

"I did; this is my chore for today," I replied, and she got even redder.

"Are you illiterate? You have kitchen duties today. Leave here this instant and go where you’re actually needed," she snarled at me.

"Martha, I don’t think..."

She stepped forward, her eyebrows cocked up. "What did you say?" She gritted out. I sighed internally and nodded.

"I’ll go," I replied and stood up. Walking over to the tap, I could feel her eyes on me, watching. I made sure to clean myself properly before leaving. I knew I wasn’t wrong about my chores for today. I wasn’t on kitchen duties.

I stepped into the kitchen, my eyes flickering about. The pack was expecting guests today, which meant all hands on deck, and it also summed up why Martha wanted me in the kitchen. There was just so much work to be done here; I wouldn’t be done in three hours. She really did want to overwork me. I sighed internally and stood by the doorframe when I heard her.

"You! Over here!" The cook barked, pointing a bony finger at me, her apron stained from years of use.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward, trying not to look as disturbed as I felt. "You’re late," she snapped.

"I wasn’t—"

"Save it," she cut me off, her tone biting. "We’re behind, and you’re going to help. Get moving."

I nodded quickly, my stomach twisting. Before I could even ask what to do, she shoved a large turning stick into my hand and pointed to a massive pot on the stove.

"Stir this. Don’t let it burn," she ordered. "And don’t screw it up."

I moved to the stove, the heat blasting my face harshly. I bit my lips hard as I tried to see through the cloud of smoke. I gripped the stick and began stirring the thick mixture inside, my arm straining from the weight of the thing.

"Faster!" the woman barked, making me jump. I could feel the eyes of the kitchen staff on her, some curious, others filled with disdain. I shuddered internally, knowing they’ve all made up their opinions about me already.

I picked up my pace, going at it faster, my eyes watering from the steam. But then the ladle slipped, splashing the scalding soup into my hand.

The pain hit me instantly. I gasped and pulled my hand back, clutching it tightly as the burn throbbed. Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them away quickly, not wanting anyone to see. I was already the topic of the maids...I didn’t need to give them even more material.

"What now?" the head maid snapped, stomping over.

"I— I burned my hand," I stammered.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, you did. Clean it up and get back to work. We don’t have time for your whining," she barked out.

I nodded quickly, rushing toward the faucet again and washed the soup off, wincing internally at how red my palm was. I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on it. It’s just a burn; it will heal if I don’t think of it. I couldn’t afford to go to the doctor again. That would be the third time, and I knew he was tired of seeing me, especially since he warned me not to come again.

I returned to the pot and resumed stirring, determined not to think of the burn on my palm. Time dragged, and when I finally finished, the cook shoved another task at me. By the time I was dismissed, my legs felt like jelly, and the burn on my hand was the least of my problems.

Hours had passed by now, and I was on my last chore for the day, even though all of the maids were done with their tasks. I was always the one to finish last, especially since I had a lot more chores than them. It was already night, and everyone had left by now. I was at the training field for the warriors, cleaning up after them.

They’d spent most of the days here training tirelessly, and it was up to me to clean and arrange their equipment for the next day. I wished I had someone else to help me, but of course, I don’t.

I sighed wistfully, looking around again. There wasn’t a single person around except me and, well, the moon. I got started, my bones aching from the day’s work. Thankfully, my ankle and body were okay now after the week I had.

I crouched to pick up a leather bracer and belt when the faint sound of boots crunching against the gravel reached me. I glanced up to see Xander walking past. I quickly dropped the belt in my hands and rushed toward him. I’d been meaning to thank him, but I haven’t seen him all week.

He stopped when he saw me, his eyes flickering around the field like he was searching for someone. I turned back, trying to find the person too when I heard his voice. "Avery?"

I turned to look at him, startled that he even knew my name. I lowered my head in respect. "Good evening, sir. I- I wanted to thank you for helping me. Thank you very much," I said calmly.

Xander furrowed his eyebrows slightly, "Why are you thanking me?" he asked, his voice gruff and hoarse.

I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to pinch or bite myself. This is the difficult part, isn’t it? I should’ve just pretended like I didn’t see him. Now, I have to explain why I’m thanking him.

"T-the head maid, the room, and also the attack...I know you didn’t save me, but you were there when I woke up so...I’ve wanted to say thank you for a while, but I haven’t seen you around," I rushed out.

Xander stared at me for some seconds, his gaze heavy on me, it had me shifting. "I didn’t do anything for you. Martha overstepped, and those girls did too. Also, I did what I did for Alpha Cain."

I nodded, "I know, I just wanted to thank you still," I replied and bowed again, shifting the bracer to my other hand, ready to step away when he stopped me.

"What’s that?" he asked.

I looked at him, slightly confused. "What’s what?" I asked.

Xander’s eyes snapped to me, "What’s wrong with your hand?" he asked.

I looked down at my hand only to see the burnt part of my palm was showing. I looked at him, shaking my head, "Oh, nothing. It’s just a burn, but it’s okay," I said, ready to leave again.

"Let me see it," he ordered.

I hesitated, the thought of letting anyone else see it making my stomach churn. With a sigh, I extended my hand reluctantly.

"Why didn’t you get this treated?" he asked.

"It’s nothing serious, really. The doctor has better things to attend to than me," I replied.

"You should’ve gone anyway. You could’ve gotten an infection," he replied, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around my hand gently. "Make sure to go to the doctor tomorrow. That could lead to an infection. You don’t have your wolf yet and can’t heal like the rest of us," he said. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"I’ll go," I replied, even though I knew I would not.

He didn’t look convinced, but before he could say anything else, the sharp sound of approaching footsteps made me tense. A familiar scent filled my nostrils. I shivered internally, and my heart dropped.

"What is going on here?" Cain’s voice was sharp, clipped, more commanding than anything else.