🐺 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟-𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐎𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧 🐺

🌕 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 🌕

Nymeria had one dream: to leave the Volkov Pack.

She wanted a place where nobody knew her as the wolf-less orphan. A place where she could live without hearing whispers about being cursed.

Every coin she earned went into her secret savings beneath a loose floorboard in the orphanage. It wasn’t much, but it was her way out.

She touched the silver pendant around her neck before pulling on her servant uniform.

It was the only thing she had from her childhood. She didn’t know who gave it to her or why she had it, but she had worn it for as long as she could remember.

“Up already, piglet?”

Nymeria froze.

Head Maid Gretchen stood in the doorway, her thin lips curled into a cruel smile.

“I was just getting ready,” Nymeria said quietly.

“Getting an early start on your snoring?” Gretchen sneered.

Her eyes raked over Nymeria’s body with disgust. “Twenty years old, and you can barely fit through a doorway.

Stop standing there and get to the kitchen before you make yourself even more useless.”

Nymeria's cheeks burned. "I'll go to the kitchen now."

"Good. Get out of my sight."

Nymeria hurried past, keeping her head down.

On her way through the cold hallway, she noticed a young wolf pup huddled near the pantry thin, ribs visible, trembling. A stray from the outer territories.

Nymeria glanced around. No one was watching. She broke off a piece of bread from a loaf and crouched down.

"It's all right," she whispered. "I won't hurt you."

The pup crept forward hesitantly, sniffed the bread, then snatched it and retreated to its corner.

Nymeria smiled sadly. At least someone appreciated her kindness.

She found Tilda in the kitchen, face flushed with panic. "Maid Nymeria! The dining hall needs polishing before sunrise. Head Maid says it has to shine like glass!"

"Don't worry," Nymeria said softly, accepting the linens. "I'll take care of it."

She had just settled at the table when three maids burst through Mira, Celia, and Daphne, the pack's worst gossips.

"The Alphas," Mira breathed. "They're coming back early. Six months early!"

"Six months? Why would the Academy release them?" Celia leaned in.

Daphne waved dismissively, grabbing bread. "The elders sent word. They're crossing at dawn."

Nymeria sighed and scrubbed harder. She knew the Volkov heirs' names Damien, Kai, and Rafe. Everyone did. They had been overseas for five years, training at the International Werewolf Council Academy.

Damien had mastered military strategy. Kai had excelled in diplomacy. Rafe had delved into ancient bloodline histories.

But legends belonged to another world. Nymeria's world was buckets, cleaning cloths, and surviving another day.

"Have you seen them?" Mira pressed her hands to her chest. "Damien can command a battalion with a glance."

"I heard he defeated the Academy champion," Celia added. "Undefeated in three years."

"Oh please," Daphne scoffed. "Tell me about Kai. His smile alone could seduce a room."

"They're just men," Nymeria muttered.

The kitchen went silent.

"Excuse me?" Daphne's voice dripped with venom.

"What do you know about men anyway?" Celia crossed her arms.

Nymeria's face went red. "I know plenty—"

"Please," Daphne snorted. "I've never seen you talk to a man. What are you going to do at thirty? Still scrubbing floors?"

Mira and Celia laughed. Nymeria's stomach dropped.

Daphne circled her. "You have no wolf. No future. No mate." She gestured vaguely at Nymeria. "No hope of ever catching anyone's attention."

Mira leaned in with mock sympathy. "Maybe the Alphas will be impressed by the maid who can't shift."

Nymeria stood abruptly. "I have work to do."

Daphne blocked her path. "Poor wolf-less Nymeria," she cooed. "All alone. Must be so sad."

"Let her go," Tilda called firmly. "Head Maid will have our heads."

Daphne stepped aside reluctantly. Nymeria hurried past, vision blurry. Their words stung because they were true. Twenty years old. Never kissed. Never courted. A girl without a wolf. A curse.

She was wiping her eyes when Gretchen appeared. "Nymeria! The Alpha's healer needs hot water. Basin and linens. Now!"

"Yes, Head Maid."

She gathered supplies and made her way through the winding corridors. Near the Alpha's door, she heard voices, Healer Cyran and Head Servant Gregor. Nymeria pressed against the cold stone.

"He's getting worse," Cyran strained. "I've tried everything. Nothing works."

"What do you mean?" Gregor demanded. "Alpha Viktor is the strongest—"

"He's deteriorating. His life force is draining away."The Academy healers don't know what's wrong."

Nymeria knew she should leave, but something about the healer's fear kept her frozen.

"A poison," Cyran whispered. "If it reaches his heart before the next full moon, nothing saves him."

"Six weeks," Gregor breathed.

"Six weeks," Cyran confirmed. "The heirs must return. Or the pack collapses."

Nymeria pressed a hand to her chest. Her pendant was warm against her skin warmer than it should be.

Inside, glass clinked. Cyran's voice: "Leave me, Gregor."

"I'll stay. The Alpha—"

"I said leave me!"

Nymeria hid around the corner as Gregor stormed past, his face grim.

She waited until his footsteps faded before slowly returning to the door. She leaned closer, peeking through the small opening.

Cyran stood beside Alpha Viktor’s bed, mixing something in a bowl. Nymeria watched as he slipped a sealed vial into his robes.

Her eyes widened.

She stepped back quietly, but her foot struck the edge of the empty basin beside her.

Clang.

The sound echoed through the room.

Nymeria froze.

Slowly, Cyran turned toward the doorway.

His cold eyes met hers.

“Maid,” he said calmly. “The hot water. How thoughtful.”

Nymeria stepped inside, her hands trembling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course not,” Cyran replied, a faint smile appearing on his face. “You were only following orders.”

Nymeria lowered her gaze. “I’ll return to the kitchen.”

“Do that.” His expression hardened. “And maid… you saw nothing. Heard nothing. Understood?”

She swallowed. “Yes, Healer.”

She fled, her heart pounding. Something felt wrong. The hidden vial. The threat in his voice.

Nymeria stopped beside the cold stone wall and took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

The conversation with Healer Cyran refused to leave her mind. Alpha Viktor had been poisoned, and the pack had only six weeks before everything fell apart.

Just as she pushed herself away from the wall, another voice drifted down the corridor.

It was calm, quiet, and carried the kind of authority that made every servant lower their head.

Nymeria quickly stepped behind a stone pillar.

Luna Elara Volkov walked into the corridor, speaking softly to someone hidden from view.

“The Moon Temple believes the prophecy has awakened,” Elara said. “They’re preparing three fated mates from powerful bloodlines.

Let them believe whatever they want. By the time my sons learn the truth, our alliance with the Bloodmoon Pack will already be sealed.”

A man’s voice replied, but it was too low for Nymeria to hear.

Elara continued, her voice cold and certain. “The heirs won’t have a choice. The Moon Temple will do the Goddess’s work, and I will do what must be done.”

Nymeria frowned.

She didn’t understand what any of it meant.

A prophecy?

Fated mates?

An alliance with the Bloodmoon Pack?

Whatever Luna Elara was planning, it had nothing to do with Alpha Viktor’s illness.

There was something much bigger happening behind the walls of the Alpha Manor.

Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Nymeria quietly slipped away and hurried down the servant stairs.

Before she reached the bottom, the warning bells rang across the entire territory.

DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG!

Every servant stopped what they were doing.

“The Alpha heirs are here,” someone shouted.

Nymeria looked toward the manor entrance as the seventh bell faded into silence.

The future Alphas had finally returned.