5

Elena's Pov

The brush scratched against the white marble floor, the knees burning from hours spent crawling around on hands and knees over the vastness of the Alpha's personal chamber.

I sweated, and the drops trickled down my back, forcing the wispy cotton shirt against me.

Three days I'd been here, three days since I was demoted to the omega quarters, the lowest tier of the pack.

The heavy door creaked wide behind me and the icy blast of air made me jump and quiver. I did not need to look up to know who it was. Her perfume, the expensive bottle I had forgotten on the bed, announced her arrival before the mocking voice.

"Ah, ah. The mighty finally fell." She mocked.

Sophia walked into the room, marching squarely along the floor I'd just mopped, designer shoes making smudgy footprints on the tile. I clamped down on my tongue, eyes fixed on the marble floor.

"Nothing to say, little sister?" She padded around me, her silver pendant scraping against the sunlight that streamed through the windows. " No tears in apology?"

I scrubbed furiously at an imaginary stain, wishing I could become invisible. I had been instructed by the other omegas beforehand: don't respond, don't react, don't let them get their way.

"You know, James is famished. You remember he said he was basically celibate, right? Come on, you can imagine. All those late evenings you assumed he was working late, he was otherwise busy teaching me exactly how an alpha's woman is meant to satisfy him."

Each word had been picked to strike deeper than the one preceding it. I worked away, knuckles locked on the brushbar, focused on the rhythm of the strokes to shut out the poison.

"It is really best, you know. The pack requires a healthy Luna, one who can give them heirs. Not a weak little toy who disintegrates at the first hurdle."

My neck was tense, and tears locked behind me.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you. Dad and Mum apologize for their regrets. They're not going to make it after all. An omega daughter is clearly quite the social blight. They just made the decision to travel down to Europe for a while ."

This pierced my defenses. My parents, too were abandoning me. I looked up, unable to hide the hurt in my eyes.

Sophia's smile broadened, triumphant at last, having drawn something from me. "Here she is. Waiting around for somebody to save poor little Elena?"

She stepped inside, placing the stiletto heel of her shoe on the fingers I had splayed out. A wave of pain shot through me as she leaned down, pressing the sensitive bones into the hard floor.

"Nobody is going to take you," she panted, wrapping her fingers around her wrist. "Nobody wants you. You are here where you belong—in servitude."

I gasped, straining to pull my hand away, but she rolled over me, pressing harder.

"Please," I said softly, loathing the tremble that clung to my voice. "Sophia, you're hurting..."

"Hurting you? I've barely begun to—"

She severed herself from me, tilting her head as though she was hearing something. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, moving swiftly. Sophia yanked her foot from my grasp and moved off stumbling before I could figure out what was happening.

Then she screamed, a sharp, dramatic one that echoed from the high ceilings.

"Please help! She's attacking me!"

"What?" I stuttered, terror and bewilderment rising up inside of me. "I didn't—"

James entered, his visage grave as he looked around. Two of his enforcers followed him, their expressions grave.

"James!" Sophia cried, extending trembling hands to him. "I had gone to help with the cleaning and she attacked me. She said I had taken her life and that I should kill myself!"

James was there instantly, yanking her against his body with anguished concern. His eyes, when they finally locked onto mine, contained absolutely no emotion but cold rage.

"Is this how you reward our mercy?" he snarled. "We allow you to remain within the pack, give you work and a house, and you attempt to harm your sister? Your Luna?"

"No," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "It was not that, James. She was—"

I was caught off guard, the impact propelling me onto the wet floor. My cheek burned, the metallic flavor of blood filling my lips as I bit down upon the tender flesh within.

"You would call our Luna a liar?" James towered over me, his Alpha aura weighing on me as a physical presence, catching me this time, and I gasped. "You can't accept your position after all you've been through?"

Sophia leaned over his shoulder, her teary face distorting into a smile the instant his back was on her. She winked at me, enjoying my helplessness.

"Take her to the dungeon. Twenty lashes for attacking the Luna. It must be witnessed by the pack, so they know the price of such disobedience."

"James, no," I pleaded as I was pulled up from the floor by calloused hands.

Pain scorched through my belly, the sudden movement tearing something apart.

There was heat spreading over my shirt—the wound having opened again. "I'm healing. I can't—"

"Should've thought about that first, then, before you assaulted my mate," he growled, turning brusquely away.

Enforcers tugged me toward the door, my feet barely skimming the floor. Sophia was nestled securely against James' chest, playing the good little damsel.

"Wait." The commanding voice came from the door, where Evelyn had moved to stand, as pristine as ever in designer attire. Her icy eyes scanned the room, settling on the blood seeping through my shirt.

"Mother Spencer!" I cried, eagerness surfacing hopefully. She would never allow this, not when I was clearly hurt.

She marched in, her heel clomping against the marble. "The dungeon is too public. We don't wish to lower our pack morale by having them witness their former Luna being punished, no matter how much she deserves it."

James frowned intently. "What would you suggest?"

"The cabin. She should be subdued by this week of abstinence. And all those wounds." Evelyn's eyes disdained at my bloody shirt. "If she survives, she survives.

However, apart from that, she's just as frail as the mother she looks like.

It spun around me. "My mother?" I exclaimed. "You know my mother?"

A flash of something—regret? Annoyance?—crossed Evelyn's face before her mask of indifference returned.

"Take her away," she commanded, turning to give me her back.

My mind spun as the enforcers yanked me from the room.

I heard Sophia's feigned sobs and soothing whispering behind us.

Punishment, isolation, and potentially death all loomed over me.

But all I could recall was the statement she had made, "As weak as your mother."