Chapter 0004

Lois’s POV:

The next morning, I didn’t waste any time.

The moment Rochelle was out of the room and attending to patients, I slipped out of bed, borrowed a few coins from one of the kind nurses, and dashed out into the early dawn, hailing a rattling carriage straight to the Packhouse gates.

I’d made up my mind.

Waiting around, hoping for things to get better, had never done me any good—not in Hellbound Village, not even when I’d begged for mercy from the Moon Goddess. This time, I was going to take matters into my own hands.

I arrived at the iron-barred gates where two guards stood with blank expressions, their hands lazily holding onto their spears. I swallowed and stepped forward.

“I’m here to apply for work,” I said.

One of them raised a brow. “Work?”

I nodded. “I heard the Packhouse needed maids. I want to work.”

“You’ll have to see Madam Rosanna,” The other said with a grunt. “She’s in charge of hiring.”

One of the guards escorted me inside, through long corridors lined with polished wood and the scent of herbs and wax. The Packhouse was large, far more than anything I’d ever known.

And it made me feel small.

We stopped at a door, and the guard knocked twice before pushing it open.

Inside sat a stern-faced woman, her hair tied in a harsh bun, her lips pressed together as if she hadn’t smiled in decades.

“And you are?” She asked, coldly.

I stepped forward, bowing slightly. “I’m here to work, Madam. My name is Lois. I’m willing to clean, cook, scrub—anything.”

She studied me like I was a bug under glass. “Where are you from?”

“From a distant Pack,” I lied. Hellbound Village was a name I buried deep now.

“What are your strengths?”

“I can clean fast, I don’t complain, and I won’t slack off.”

She tapped her fingers on the desk. “The pay isn’t negotiable. You’ll move into the maids’ quarters. We expect early risers and no backtalk. Understood?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, she scribbled on a sheet and waved me off.

I made my way back to the clinic with a strange mix of triumph and fear bubbling in my chest. I’d done it. But how would Michelle take it?

When I entered the clinic, Michelle looked up from where she was folding laundry. “Where have you been?”

“I went to the Packhouse,” I said, shrugging off my damp cloak. “I got a job.”

“You what?!” Michelle shot up, glaring at me. “Why didn’t you say something first?”

“Because I knew you’d try to stop me.”

“Lois…”

“I had to,” I interrupted softly. “We can’t keep depending on the leftovers from the clinic. Sooner or later, they’ll get tired of feeding us out of pity.”

“I’m your mother!” Michelle cried, her voice cracking. “It’s my job to work and take care of you, not the other way around!”

“And it was Rochelle’s job to take care of you,” I shot back gently, turning to the older woman. “But she's gone now so someone has to do it.”

Michelle looked away with a heavy sigh.

“I love you, Mom,” I said. “But I won’t sit here doing nothing while we both suffer. I won’t.”

Michelle’s face crumbled as tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

We lay in each other’s arms that night, her quiet sobs muffled against my shoulder as I stroked her hair, whispering that it was okay. That I’d do this—for us.

By sunrise, I’d packed the little clothes the Pack’s doctor had given me, kissed Michelle goodbye, and made my way back to the Packhouse.

I was barely five steps into the courtyard when I heard her voice.

“You’re late!”

Madam Rosanna stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

I blinked. “I… I wasn’t told when to arrive…”

“Excuses!” She snapped. “I should’ve known better than to hire Someone like you.”

I didn’t understand—what did she mean by someone like me?

She stormed down the steps, whip in hand. “You think you can question me? Backtalk me?”

I stood frozen. The Lois from weeks ago would’ve trembled and obeyed. But something in me had snapped. Maybe it was anger, or maybe it was the leftover fire the Moon Goddess lit inside me.

“I didn’t question you,” I said, voice firm. “But I wasn’t told when to come. So how am I being punished for something I didn’t know?”

Her eyes widened, then darkened. With a hiss, she lashed the whip across my legs. I gasped, pain flaring.

“Get out!” She roared. “Leave this instant!”

Panic surged in me. No. I couldn’t lose this job—not now. Not when I had a purpose. Not when Alpha Erika was within reach.

I dropped to my knees, tears stinging my eyes. “Please… please don’t send me away. I need this job. I’m sorry.”

She sneered. “Sorry won’t clean the stables.”

She turned to a passing maid. “What tasks are left?”

The girl blinked. “Uh… the stables still need cleaning, weeds in the garden, laundry isn’t done…”

“Good,” Madam Rosanna said. “Tell the other maids to stop. She will do it all.”

The maid blinked again but nodded and motioned for me to follow.

As we walked, she glanced at me. “Is this your first day?”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

She hummed. “Did you talk back to Madam Rosanna?”

I gave a small nod.

She chuckled dryly. “You’re in for it, then. She hates anyone who dares her. And you?” Her eyes skimmed me. “Pretty face with fair skin. You just made yourself a target.”

I swallowed hard.

We stopped at the stables, where the overwhelming stench of horse dung greeted me. I was shown what to do and then led to the garden, the laundry shed, and more.

Then she left.

And I worked.

Through the day.

By the time I was down to the garden and bent over picking weeds, the sky cracked with thunder and the rain came pouring.

But I didn’t stop.

If I stopped, I’d lose everything.

The droplets soaked my dress, matted my hair, and blurred my vision. But I yanked weed after weed like my life depended on it.

Suddenly, a deep voice rang out behind me. “Falling sick means being a liability.”

I froze.

“And being a liability is something this Packhouse hates. So if you keep at it, you’ll be kicked out for choosing to be a burden.”

I stood up slowly, rain dripping from my lashes.

There, under the glow of a flickering lantern, stood a tall man—early twenties at most. His dark hair was damp, curling slightly at the edges, his blue eyes piercing like winter’s bite. His shoulders were broad, and his presence felt intimidating.

I glared. “Who the hell are you?”

He smirked, stepping forward. “Your Mate.”