CHAPTER 3: NOBODY'S DAUGHTER

You little… you hit me." Dorn’s voice was slurred, heavy with blood and sudden rage. Blood trickled down his temple, running into his eye as he pushed himself off the rug. "You actually hit me."

"Stay down," I whispered, my hand trembling against the doorframe. "Please, just stay down."

"Do you know what will happen to you when they find you like this?" He took a heavy, uneven step toward me, his fingers curling into claws. "Look at you."

I didn't answer. I backed toward the hallway, the cool air touching my bare skin.

"Can't even hold a lamp straight," he growled, staggering into the bedside table.

I let the brass base slip from my fingers. It hit the carpet with a dull thud, rolling out of reach.

I hit him. Me. Fifteen years of being soft, and the lamp didn't get the message.

"Get back here!" Dorn lunged, but his foot caught on the dragged bedsheet, his knee crashing hard against the wood.

My hands shook violently. I kicked off my remaining shoe where it stuck to the threshold, leaving it behind.

I pulled the heavy oak door shut, the latch catching with a sharp click that locked him inside.

The hotel corridor stretched out before me, bright and endless under the crystal chandeliers. My breath came in ragged hitches, the spiked wine burning through my blood like liquid lead.

"That's Beta Victor's girl?" a maid murmured from behind a linen cart.

"Victor's daughter, yes," another answered, not even lowering her voice. "Look at the state of her."

"Please," I rasped, taking two unsteady steps toward them. "A towel. Anything."

The first maid stepped back, smoothing her apron. "Sorry, miss. Not my floor."

"It's spiked..." I pressed my palm flat against the wallpaper to stay upright. "The wine... please."

"Look at her dress," a bellboy muttered as he held the elevator doors open for a couple. "Torn at the shoulder."

"Don't look, sweetheart," a guest said sharply, pulling her young daughter past me. "Keep walking."

"Please," I tried again, looking at the bellboy. "Just open the service stairs."

He adjusted his buttons and stepped inside the lift. "Next one, miss."

The doors slid shut. There was no next one.

"Alpha Tristan's fiancée," a bored maid near the vending alcove remarked. "Not for long, from what I heard."

"Is she... did she get laid?" a younger maid whispered, her eyes wide as she took in my disheveled hair. "Right before her mating ceremony?"

"Disgusting," the older maid snapped, her voice carrying down the hall. "Couldn't even keep her clothes on until the vows."

"Should we..." the younger one hesitated.

"No," the older maid said sharply. "Don't. Beta Victor finds out you helped her after she disgraced Alpha Tristan, you'll be on night shift at the kennels."

"Poor thing," the younger maid mumbled, turning her back.

Chin up. Crying gives them something to repeat.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the sting behind my eyelids to recede.

Don't look at their faces. Look at their shoes. Shoes can't laugh.

I folded my arms tightly over my stomach, making myself as small as possible as I dragged my feet forward.

"Look at her go," the bored maid sneered. "Walking like she's proud of it."

"Beta Victor's blood, alright," a room attendant muttered, tossing pillowcases into a hamper. "All the arrogance, none of the dignity."

"Thought she was supposed to stand at the altar with Alpha Tristan tomorrow," another voice called out.

"Looks like someone else got to sample the bride first," a voice giggled from an open room.

I stopped asking. I stopped looking. My left shoulder scraped the wood paneling as I dragged myself down the hall.

"Out of the way, girl," a waiter warned, pushing past with a tray of empty glasses. "You're getting grease on the rug."

"I'm not..." I rasped, but his polished shoes were already clicking away.

"Alpha Tristan deserves better," a voice whispered from behind a decorative palm. "Tied to a fat, useless..."

The words faded as the drug pulled at my muscles, turning my limbs heavy and useless.

"Not here," I whispered under my breath. "Not in front of them."

My forehead touched the wall for a brief second.

"Tristan thinks the oath is a leash," I murmured to the dark wood. "Alpha Tristan thinks he owns me."

My reflection in a brass sconce showed a pale, disheveled mess with wild hazel eyes.

"I'll break it," I whispered, the words turning to cold steel. "By hook or by crook, I will break it."

He only has to pull. Fine. I'll pull until it tears.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in this wing!" a guard shouted from the main intersection.

I didn't turn around. My fingers reached out, searching the wall until they found a brass handle.

I pressed down hard, tried the door, and it opened.

I stumbled inside, letting the door click shut behind me.

Darkness swallowed me instantly. Before I could draw a breath, a broad hand clamped over my throat, throwing me backward.

My spine slammed into the stone wall.

"HOW DARE YOU," a voice growled in the dark.