CHAPTER 2: THE GHOST OF A SAVOUR

The stone floor of the servant quarters was ice-cold, a brutal contrast to the heated marble of the dais I had just been dragged from. I sat on a moth-eaten mattress, the smell of damp earth and neglect filling my lungs. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn’t see the darkness; I saw Caleb’s face from three years ago.

"You’re shaking, Elara," Sarah whispered, slipping into the small, cramped room with a stolen piece of bread.

"I'm fine," I snapped, my voice cracking. "I don't need pity."

"It’s not pity. It’s a reminder. Do you remember how you got here? How did he bring you here?"

I leaned my head against the weeping stone wall. How could I forget? The smell of burning silver and the sound of iron chains clinking against my wrists was a permanent haunting.

"He saved me from that pit," I muttered, the memory rushing back with violent clarity.

“Kill her! She’s a defect! A useless breeder!” The Alpha of the Iron-Claw pack had screamed that day, his hand wrapped in my hair as he dragged me toward the execution block.

“Stop!” A voice had thundered, shaking the very trees of the forest.

Caleb. He had been twenty then, a young Alpha in his prime, crashing through the Iron-Claw gates like a god of war. He hadn't just stopped them; he had decimated them.

“You want to kill a girl because her wolf is late to transition?” Caleb had sneered, his claws dripping with the blood of my captors. “She’s coming with me.”

“She’s a breeder, Alpha Caleb,” the Iron-Claw Beta had spat, clutching his severed arm. “She’s genetically marked for nothing but producing pups for stronger men. She’s a curse.”

“Then she’s my curse,” Caleb had replied, lifting me from the dirt. “From this day on, Elara is under the protection of the Silver-Moon. Anyone who touches her answers to me.”

"He called me his curse back then," I told Sarah, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "I guess he finally got tired of the weight."

"He didn't look tired today," Sarah said, her voice low. "He looked possessed. That blonde... Chloe... there’s something wrong with that bond, Elara. Fated or not."

"Does it matter? The pack already treats me like the 'breeder' I was born to be. Did you see their faces? They didn't see a Luna being deposed; they saw a defect finally being put in her place."

The door to the quarters creaked open. It wasn't a friend. It was Marcus, the pack’s Head Enforcer and Caleb’s right-hand man. He looked at me with a mixture of disgust and duty.

"Get up, Elara," Marcus barked.

"I just got here, Marcus. Give me a minute to process my 'promotion' to scullery maid."

"The Alpha didn't say you had a minute. He said you have a shift. The kitchen fire needs stoking, and the Luna’s breakfast needs to be prepared."

"Luna?" I stood up, my eyes flashing.

"She hasn't even been marked yet."

"She’s fated," Marcus countered, stepping into the room. "That makes her Luna by blood and destiny. You? You’re just the girl who forgot where she came from. You were a 'breeder' in the Iron-Claw, and you’re a servant here. Caleb’s charity has officially run out.

"Charity?" I stepped into his space, ignoring the way his Alpha-blood pressure tried to force me down. "We shared a bed for two years, Marcus. We built the trade routes to the North together. We sat in council meetings until three in the morning. That’s not charity. That’s a partnership."

"It was a delusion," Marcus laughed.

"Caleb was waiting for the real thing. Now he has it. You’re just the placeholder. The 'unconventional bond' was just a fancy way of saying he was lonely and you were available."

"You were there when he saved me!" I yelled. "He told me I was his soul! He told me the Moon Goddess made a mistake and that we would fix it together!"

"Men say a lot of things when they're staring at a pretty face with a tragic backstory," Marcus shrugged. "Now, get to the kitchens. Or do I need to use the silver cuffs?"

I looked at the scars on my wrists—white lines from the Iron-Claw days. "You wouldn't dare."

"Caleb gave the order, Elara. He said, and I quote: 'If she resists, treat her like any other insubordinate omega.' Is that what you want? To be broken again?"

I stared at Marcus, the man who used to call me 'Sister' when Caleb wasn't looking.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked.

"I'm enjoying the order being restored. A breeder shouldn't be wearing silk while the rest of us work."

I moved so fast he didn't have time to react. I didn't use a wolf's strength—I used the momentum of my anger. My palm connected with his cheek with a crack that sounded like a whip.

Marcus stumbled back, his hand flying to his face. "You... you bitch!"

"That's 'Luna' to you until the mark is set, Marcus," I hissed. "And if you ever mention my 'breeder' status again, I’ll tell the pack exactly how much of the treasury you’ve been skimming for your gambling debts in the human city."

His face went pale. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I kept the books, remember? I know where every cent is buried. Now, get out of my room before I decide to start talking."

He backed out, his eyes full of murder, but he didn't touch me. I followed him out, heading toward the kitchens, my heart a lead weight in my chest

As I walked through the dim service tunnels, I saw a shadow leaning against the wall near the pantry. It was Caleb. He was alone, his Alpha scent heavy and agitated.

"Caleb?" I whispered, and hope flared for a fraction of a second.

He turned. His eyes were dark, almost black. "I told you to go to the quarters."

"I'm on my way to the kitchen, Alpha.

Just like you ordered."

He stepped toward me, pinning me against the rough stone. For a moment, his hand reached out as if to touch my hair, just like he used to. My breath hitched.

"Elara," he murmured, his voice sounding like the man who saved me.

"Yes, Caleb?"

"The scent of the kitchens... it suits you better than the perfume," he said, his voice turning cold as ice. "It reminds me of what you actually are. A tool from the dirt."

I gasped as he slammed his hand against the wall next to my head.

"Why are you doing this?" I choked out. "If you want her, take her. But why the cruelty? Why the servant quarters? Why the 'breeder' talk?"

Caleb leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Because you know too much, Elara. And Chloe... Chloe knows that you know."

"Know what?"

"The reason I really pulled you out of that hell in the Iron-Claw pack," he whispered, a terrifying grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't for love. And it wasn't for mercy."

From the shadows behind him, a soft, girlish giggle echoed. Chloe stepped out, her eyes glowing with a strange, violet light that was definitely not the mark of a wolf.

"Tell her, Caleb," Chloe purred. "Tell her what we're going to use her for now that the 'Luna' play is over."

Caleb looked at me, and for the first time in my life, I saw true evil in the eyes of the man I loved.

"The blood of a breeder," Caleb said, his voice a haunting vibration. "It’s the only thing that can break the seal."

"What seal?" I cried out, trying to pull away.

"The one keeping us from becoming gods," Chloe said, stepping closer, a silver dagger glinting in her hand. "And you, Elara, have just enough of it left in your veins."

Caleb grabbed my throat, his grip tightening until the world began to blur. "Don't scream, Elara. It'll only make the harvest more painful."