Chapter Eight The Alpha's Favorite

Avery's POV.

Cold water soaked through the thin fabric around my knees as I scrubbed the stone floor.

The brush scraped harshly across the surface, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet kitchen.

Scrub. Rinse. Scrub again.

My hands were already red from the cold water, but I kept going. My hand pressed harder against the floor.

My entire life… I never imagined I'd end up like this.

Being held captive by this monster. A maid. Not like I was treated any better at home.

Father will pay for this, I will make sure he does. He's going to regret sending me here.

“I swear it,” I muttered as a single tear landed on the floor.

“What did you say?”

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Lena.

“Nothing, just thinking.” I replied. “About how unfortunate I have been.”

She gave half a nod, then glanced around. “You’re going to ruin the floor at that rate.”

She leaned casually against the kitchen doorway, arms folded as she watched me scrub the stone like it had personally offended her.

I dipped the brush back into the bucket.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t give prisoners cleaning supplies.”

Lena gave me a faint smile.

“Come to see the newest girl he took from her family?” I muttered.

Lena stepped inside. “You’re dramatic.”

“You look comfortable,” I said. “Guess being the Alpha’s favorite comes with benefits… or maybe being his favorite bedmate has its perks.”

That made Lena pause just enough for me to notice, then tilted her head slightly, a faint, unreadable smile playing at her lips.

“You don’t look like someone who’s locked in a dungeon,” I said.

Lena crouched down beside me. “You’re making assumptions.”

I finally looked up at her. “Am I?”

I gestured around the house. “You’re free to walk around. You’re well fed. You’re not bruised. So you either came here willingly…”

My eyes held her gaze.

“…or you stopped fighting.”

Something flickered in Lena’s expression.

“You think I’m like you?”

“I think you were like me,” I corrected.

I dipped the brush into the bucket again.

“And then you gave up.”

Lena watched me for a long moment. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not. But I know I won’t end up like you.”

Lena’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “And what exactly am I?”

I let out a scoff. “A woman who decided surviving was easier if she spread her legs.”

The air in the kitchen felt frozen. Lena just stood there… shocked? Embarrassed? I don't know.

Then she laughed. Not angry. Not offended.

Almost amused.

“You really do have a loud mouth.”

“Say what you want, but I'm not going to be a sex slave like you are.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what it looks like.”

Lena leaned closer suddenly. Too close.

Her fingers reached out and tilted my chin upward. “Watch your tongue,” Lena murmured softly.

“You might discover you’re wrong.”

I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Lena straightened, completely unbothered.

She was quiet for a moment, watching me go back to scrubbing like the conversation had not happened at all.

Then she sat down on the floor beside me. Just folded herself down onto the cold wet stone in her clean dress without a second thought and sat there like she had nowhere better to be.

I stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting."

"On a wet floor."

"Apparently." She glanced at the bucket. "You missed a spot."

I turned back to the floor. "Go away, Lena.”

She didn't move.

"I'm not his bedmate," she said finally. Quietly. Not defensive. Just a correction, offered once, like she had decided I deserved the truth even if I had not earned it.

"I never have been." She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "And I never will be.”

Lena stood, brushing stone dust from her dress.

"Finish the floors," she said. "Marla checks at midday.”

I dipped my brush back into the bucket, scrubbing harder.

Lena lingered a moment, then leaned closer again. “Lucian hasn’t eaten yet,” she said softly.

I froze mid-stroke.

“And… you’re going to cook for him.”

I turned sharply. “You should try asking someone who actually works here.”

Lena stepped closer again. Then her hand reached out, brushing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You really enjoy testing him, don’t you?”

I grabbed her wrist before she could pull away. “Or maybe you just like touching things that might bite you.”

Lena looked down at my hand gripping her wrist. Then she laughed softly. “He’s been in a very bad mood since you stabbed him.”

“You won’t want him checking for himself.”

I released her immediately. “I don’t care.”

“You might,” she said, straightening herself. “And it would be easier if you just prepare something now. Trust me, it’s safer than waiting.”

“I won’t be cooking for him.”

Lena shrugged, stepping back. “Suit yourself. Just… don’t make him come looking for excuses.”

A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “And if he does… he might come looking for something else to eat. Maybe even you.”

I froze, my hands gripping the brush tighter.

“Something else?”

She gave me that faint, unreadable smile and tilted her head.

“Think about it while you work,” she said lightly, turning toward the doorway.