Alpha Logan's Mistress

REINA 

The roses bloomed early that year.

Their scent lingered in the garden long after the sun had set, sweet and warm like everything I thought my life would be. I was thirteen, twirling barefoot through the flowers, my white dress fluttering behind me, the grass tickling my ankles as I ran toward my mother’s voice.

“Reina,” she called from the balcony, her smile glowing beneath the gold trim of her royal robe. “Don’t stay out too long, baby. You’ll catch a cold before the Moon Festival.”

“I’m not cold,” I giggled, plucking a rose and pretending it was my crown. “And I love the small of roses.”

She laughed. “You’re too beautiful to be out there with dirt on your feet. Come inside, your father wants to speak with you.”

I obeyed, heart still fluttering from the wind, the flowers, and the silly fantasy that had just bloomed in my head.

Inside the throne room, the fire crackled, and my father, Alpha Gregor Vale, stood beside the map of the West pack, eyes stern but full of pride.

“She’s ready,” he said to my mother, motioning for me to step forward. “Reina, you know what it means to be Luna of this land, don’t you?”

I nodded, swallowing my nerves. Unlike the other kids my age, I had my first shift at 4, and my second at 12. The other kids had their first shift between 10 and 12, and their second shift between 16 and 18. Even my brothers didn't shift until 13.

“You’re not just the daughter of an Alpha. You’ll rule with your mate one day. And he must be strong enough to handle both the pack and your fire.”

My mother smoothed my curls gently, tucking a lock behind my ear. “You’re our moonlight, baby. You’ll make the most breathtaking Luna this pack has ever seen.”

I believed her. I believed all of it.

But that night, everything shattered.

---

I came back from the garden with petals in my hair and a soft hum on my lips. The castle hallways were dark, too quiet. My smile faded.

And then I heard it. Someone was coughing. A violent, wet, and choking sound. Following the sound, I ran into the dining room and I froze.

My mother and father were slumped over the table, blood pouring from their mouths, staining the wood, the floor… everything.

“No… no, no!” I rushed to them, screaming for help, shaking their limp shoulders, eyes wide in horror.

Footsteps echoed behind me.

Guapo, my oldest brother, stepped in first. He was too cold, too unmoved. Then came Gustavo, and finally Giovanni, with eyes narrowed like wolves circling prey.

“What did you do, Reina?” Guapo asked calmly, too calmly.

“I, I don’t know... I just came in... they were... please, help them!”

Giovanni scoffed. “Don’t play innocent.”

“I didn’t—”

“You poisoned them,” Gustavo snapped. “Don’t lie!”

“Huh? What are you saying?” I turned to Gustavo and Giovanni for help but Gustavo turned away while Giovanni sneered at me. “What do you mean? I didn't do anything. I've been in the garden all day.”

He scoffed again, folding his arms across his chest. “You fucking piece of shit! You poisoned them, right? C'mon, don't lie. Just say the fucking truth. Nobody's gonna judge you.”

He sounded too menacing and I shook my head violently. “I didn’t! I swear! I—I was outside—I just got back!”

“You were always the favorite,” Guapo muttered, stepping closer. “The perfect Luna. The golden child. So, of course it makes sense that you would want it all to yourself.”

“What?” My voice cracked. “Why would I ever—They’re our parents!”

Guapo's expression twisted, bitter and unrelenting. “And they were going to leave it all to you. You wanted the throne. You couldn’t wait to get rid of them.”

“That’s not true!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. “I loved them!”

But none of them listened. Giovanni grabbed my arms, yanking me away from our parents' bodies. I kicked, thrashed, and begged, but nothing seemed to work.

“Take her,” Guapo commanded. “Whip her, and lock her up. Make sure she never forgets what she did.”

I was dragged down to the lower dungeons, screaming until my throat gave out. They tied me to the iron post and lashed my back until my skin split open like paper. I lost count after the sixth strike. Blood blurred my vision. I collapsed.

I was there for days with no food, light or air. Just the stink of death and betrayal. And that’s when my nightmares began.

The other prisoners mocked me.

“You deserve it, Alpha-killer,” they’d hiss. “The Alpha's precious princess, the one he always bragged about, locked up for murdering him.”

And then, a time came when one man tried to force himself on me, pressing his filth-covered hands over my mouth, whispering, “Let me make you forget everything you've been through.” 

But I bit him hard.

He hissed angrily. “You slut!” he yelled, raising his hand to hit me.

---

I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribcage aggressively. The walls weren’t stone anymore, they were cold, rusted metal.

The stink of salt and unwashed bodies filled my lungs. Chains rattled around me as the slave ship rocked over the water. Wooden beams groaned like they were mourning.

Right. I wasn't thirteen anymore, nor was I locked up in the dungeon. I also wasn't scrubbing the floors of the servants' toilet. I was on a slave ship, being shipped to the Northern pack.

This was my fifth time being sold.

I had been to five packs, met five Alphas, and experienced five different versions of hell.

I stared straight ahead, eyes dry and lifeless. I didn’t cry anymore. My tear glands were weary, but my soul was worse.

“Alpha Logan,” one woman whispered to another. “They say he killed his own council for disagreeing with him.”

“They say he doesn’t take slaves,” another muttered. “He breaks them.”

I’d heard it all before.

Alpha Logan, the ruthless Alpha of the North. His name carried weight heavier than chains. People trembled at the mention of his name.

But I? I couldn’t bring myself to care.

My body ached from the beatings. My wrists were raw. But my mind had gone numb long ago. I didn’t fear death. I didn’t fear pain.

I just… didn’t feel anything anymore.

A heavy footstep thudded near my bench. This same old fool, he had approached literally every female on the ship, asking for the same thing and promising the same thing. Yet he was "happily" married.

Boy, I'd met his wife one time, when she came to warn one slave to stay away from her husband. It was a funny sight. If only she knew.

“Psst.” He crouched near me, licking his lips. “You’re prettier than the rest of the trash on this boat.”

I didn’t move.

“I could keep you alive, sweetheart,” he continued. “Sneak you out before they send you to the North. You’d just need to be mine. For one night. Maybe two.”

Still, I said nothing.

Smirking, he reached his hand toward my thigh, and– Smack!

I slapped it away, locking eyes with him for the first time.

He blinked, too stunned. Apparently I'm the first woman to outrightly reject him. He didn't seem to take it well. Good! I wish he'd kill me off right now.

Instead, he slapped me harder than I'd ever been hit, and my head snapped sideways, blood filling my mouth. I spat it out.

“Stupid bitch,” he hissed. “You think you’re too good for the likes of me? Remember what you are.”

I let my head rest against the cold iron wall, blood trailing from the corner of my lip.

A woman beside me tsked. “Should’ve taken the deal,” she muttered. “You won’t last a day in the North. That Alpha… he’s worse than the guards.”

I didn't respond. She couldn't possibly understand. I was not trying to survive, I didn’t want to live.