Chosen by the Tyrant Alpha as A Surrogate

Irene’s POV

I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror, the blade of the scissors caught the dim candlelight as I grabbed another section of my dark hair and cut.

The strands fell against the stone floor, pooling around my bare feet.

"Shorter," I muttered to myself, hacking away at what had once reached my waist.

My hand trembled slightly as I reached for the small pot of brown paste I'd mixed earlier. I dabbed it across my cheeks and nose, creating false freckles that marred my skin.

In the wavering candlelight, I looked plain but that was the point.

Nothing good ever came from being noticed by the higher wolves. I had learned that the hard way, watching girls disappear into private chambers and return with vacant eyes and bruised skin.

The pretty ones never lasted long in the palace.

"Irene!" A shrill voice pierced through my door. "Hurry up!"

"I'm coming!" I shouted back, my voice sharp with irritation.

I turned back to the mirror one last time, straightening the oversized uniform that hung off my frame like a sack.

The gray fabric was coarse against my skin, designed to hide any hint of a figure beneath. I tugged at the hem, pulling it lower, making sure nothing showed.

“You can do this, Irene.” I whispered, nodding to myself. “Just one more night and this nightmare will end.”

"Irene! Are you deaf?"

My jaw clenched. I grabbed the white serving cap and shoved it over my butchered hair, tucking away the uneven strands.

"Coming!" I snapped, jerking the door open.

Juliet stood in the hallway, her hand already raised to knock again. She dropped it slowly, her lips pursed in that perpetual look of disdain she wore whenever she looked at me.

"About time," she said, turning on her heel. "We're already behind schedule."

"You didn't have to call me three times," I grumbled, following her down the narrow servant's corridor. “I heard you the first time."

Juliet glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes sliding over my appearance with barely concealed contempt. "Why do you even try so much? It's not like you're attractive anyway."

The words should have stung. Maybe once, they would have.

But I had heard much worse in the two years since my brother had sold me to the palace like livestock to pay off his gambling debts.

"Just move," I whispered.

She rolled her eyes but said nothing more, leading me through the maze of passages that connected the servant quarters to the main palace.

The sounds of celebration grew louder with each step and the full moon shone through the high windows we passed.

They were celebrating the Lycan King's latest conquest. The palace had been in preparation for days making sure everything was perfect.

But tonight wasn't just about him, tonight was my twentieth birthday.

My heart hammered against my ribs as we walked down the final staircase into the kitchens.

For omega wolves like me, twenty meant one thing and that was finding your mate.

The bond would snap into place the moment we locked eyes, and once I found mine, I could leave this place.

It was my only way out.

The memory of my brother's face flashed through my mind, his greedy eyes counting the coins as he handed me over to the palace guards.

He hadn't even looked sorry, just relieved that his debt was paid.

My stomach churned with familiar sourness.

"Move!" The head chef's bark cut through my thoughts. She shoved a heavy silver tray into my hands. "Table seven, then table twelve. Don't spill anything and don’t speak unless spoken to. Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," I muttered.

"Then go!"

I snapped back to attention, forcing my mind to focus.

The main ballroom took my breath away, the way it always did. The bright chandelier dripped with crystals hung from the ceiling, their light spreading into a thousand tiny rainbows.

And everywhere were wolves. High-ranking wolves in their finest clothes, laughing and drinking and celebrating their king's power.

My fellow omegas moved between them like ghosts, their heads down, and trays balanced perfectly.

I hated how we served those who would never see us as equals or care if we lived or died.

I walked through the crowd toward table seven, keeping my eyes on the floor.

A group of beta wolves sat there, already drunk from the smell of alcohol that clung to them. I set down their glasses, trying to blend into the background.

"Well, hello there," one of them slurred, his eyes tracking me as I turned to leave.

I kept walking, hoping he would just assume I was dead and leave me alone. But it seemed I was hoping for too much.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

A hand grabbed my wrist and I froze, my heart thudding rapidly.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said with a bow, trying to pull away. "I have other tables to serve."

"You can wait a minute." His grip tightened, pulling me closer. His breath reeked of wine. "Let me look at you."

The other betas laughed, nudging each other and my skin crawled.

"Please, sir," I said, keeping my voice even. "I really must-"

His other hand cupped my ass, squeezing hard and something inside me snapped.

My fist connected with his face before I could stop myself. The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking echoed through the sudden silence around us.

He stumbled backward, blood pouring between his fingers as he screamed.

"You bitch!"

His palm cracked across my face and stars exploded across my vision as I hit the floor, the taste of copper filling my mouth.

"What is going on here!" The head maid's voice cut through the chaos. She grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet. "Irene! What have you done?"

"He touched me!" I gasped, my cheek throbbing. "He grabbed me and-"

"I don't want to hear it!" She shook me hard, her nails digging into my skin. "Apologize now."

I looked at the beta wolf and his smug expression despite the blood.

This was the life omegas wolves were doomed to have. No matter our side of the story, we were always blamed.

The rage in my chest spread to my throat and wrapped around it until I couldn’t breathe. I jerked free from the head maid's grasp and ran.

Behind me, I heard her calling my name, but I didn't stop. I pushed through a side door and stumbled into an empty corridor, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I needed somewhere to breathe, a place where there were no condescending wolves around. I shoved open the nearest door and collapsed inside a dimly lit room.

I pressed my back against the wall, sliding down until I sat on the cold floor.

This is my life. This will always be my life unless-

A shadow moved, interrupting me and my head snapped up, heart lurching into my throat.

In the corner, barely visible in the darkness, someone stood watching.

I shakily rose to my feet, my fingers reaching for the door handle but before I could move, a hand wrapped around my throat and slammed me back against the wall.

I clawed at the fingers cutting off my air as a figure stepped into the moonlight.

"Who the hell are you?" a deep voice demanded.

I stared up into his face and my breath was stolen from my lungs.

The sight of hard grey eyes and a face that would make any lady swoon had my heart dropping to my feet.

I realized who I was staring at. It was Alastair Black… the Lycan King.