Chapter Two

(Zarah)

“Bitch! Come here now!”

Dana’s voice cut through the air like a whip. Before I could brace myself, her hand was in my hair, yanking me forward so hard my neck snapped back.

Dana was Devlin’s daughter.

She shoved me into her room. “Why is this place still a mess? I told you—I want it sparkling!”

I stared at the floor, breathing through the sting in my scalp. I didn’t speak. There was no point. Apologies only made it worse.

“Dana, I was about to—,”

“I want no excuses. Tomorrow is the Natal Ceremony. Some of my friends will be here even Henry,”

“Who’s got my princess angry?” Devlin’s voice echoed from the staircase, casual and cruelly amused.

Dana spun toward him. “This piece of shit!” she snapped, pointing at me like I was filth on her designer shoes.

Devlin’s gaze shifted to me. His expression darkened—not with real concern for his daughter, but with the sick satisfaction of a man who enjoyed control.

“What did you do?” he asked, stepping forward.

Before I could answer, his hand lashed out—smacking me so hard my cheek burned.

This wasn’t new to me. None of it was. I have lost count of how many bruises I received, broken bones, how many times I had bitten my tongue to keep myself from screaming.

Devlin had done worse than this. Much worse. The only boundary he hadn’t crossed was violate me and I didn’t delude myself into thinking that made me lucky. It just meant he was waiting. Or saving it. Or didn’t find me worth it yet.

“Do exactly as she commands,”

“Yes sir,” I answered, walking away to get started.

Tomorrow was my twentieth birthday and it had to be on the Natal Ceremony Day.

What weird coincidence.

I have few more years to live.

‘Maybe our mate will be among the guests,’ Luna murmured, her voice a low growl in the back of my mind, laced with a flicker of hope.

‘Mate?’ I scoffed silently. ‘You wish.’

‘Zarah, it could happen,’ she insisted.

‘What kind of wolf would want a slave for a mate?’ I snapped, more bitterly than I meant to. ‘Look at us. I’m an Alpha in name only. A powerless prisoner scrubbing floors and dodging fists. No mate wants this.’

‘But you are still an Alpha—’

‘Yeah. An Alpha with no pack. No freedom. No future. Luna, I’ve got work to do. Please... just be quiet.’

I felt her retreat into the corners of my mind with a small, sulking huff. ‘Fine.’

I was just about to start cleaning the storehouse when I heard voices—two of them, just outside the cracked door.

“He’s coming here?” the first voice asked, surprised—and if I wasn’t mistaken, tinged with fear.

“Yes. Yes,” the second voice confirmed, hurriedly. Tomorrow.”

“Nobody in the pack knows what he looks like,” one of the girls whispered near the storehouse earlier that night. “Rumour says he has piercing silver eyes that see straight through your soul.”

“Shhh... let’s go,” the other hushed. The sound of their footsteps faded.

I had paused, curious. Who was this they feared so much?

But there was no time to wonder. I still had work to do.

By the time I finished cleaning, it was 2:30 a.m. My muscles ached, my eyes burned with exhaustion, and I lay down just to rest for a few hours before dawn.

Splash!

Cold water hit my face, jerking me awake.

“Get up, wench!” one of the maids snapped. “Miss Dana wants you.”

I dragged myself to my feet, soaked and shivering. “Happy birthday to us, Luna,” I whispered bitterly.

I climbed the stairs and knocked on Dana’s door.

“Come in.”

“You asked for me?”

“Yes,” she said, strutting like a queen. She grabbed a pile of new clothes and threw them at me. “Try these on.”

“Why?” I asked, already knowing I had no choice.

“Because I said so,” she snapped.

I changed into each outfit as she instructed—modeling them like a doll—before being dismissed to continue my chores.

Later, while the party roared below, I sat alone in my room, trying to find something decent to wear—something that didn’t scream servant or broken girl.

That’s when I smelled it.

It hit me like a tidal wave.

Cedar wood. Smoke. Power.

My heart raced. Luna howled with joy inside me.

“Our mate.”

The door burst open.

And there he stood. Henry Vancouver, the Alpha’s son.

“You,” he said, his voice curling with cruel satisfaction. “It was your scent that kept pulling me to this house. Every time.”

I just stared.

Luna , stirred inside me, filled with warmth. We found him. Our mate.

For a heartbeat, hope bloomed in my chest.

Then—

“Henry… what are you doing with her?” Dana’s voice jolted me. Her eyes landed on me like I was filth.

He turned to look at her, then back at me—and smiled.

A cruel, mocking smile.

“She thinks I’m her mate,” he said. “Can you imagine?”

Dana’s laughter exploded. Her friends joined in.

Even Henry laughed.

My heart shattered.

“But—” I tried to speak, my voice cracking.

“But what?” he growled. Then slapped me hard.

I reeled, stumbling backward.

“You’re a loser,” he spat. “What kind of wolf has no power, huh? Your entire pack was slaughtered. Your precious mother was taken by Mr. Devlin right in front of you. And you just watched.”

Their laughter was deafening.

I wanted to scream. To vanish. To die.

“Are you so desperate for love,” Henry said, “you had to pretend your family’s killer’s son is your mate? Pathetic.”

He was right. The Alpha of the Crescent Pack—the man who killed my mother—was his father.

How could I ever believe this would end any differently?

Henry smirked. “Since you miss your family so much... let’s help you meet their fate.”

“Boys!” he barked.

His friends lunged. Hands groped me—my breasts, my hips, my body.

“Stop!” I screamed, struggling, shoving, clawing. “What are you doing?!”

“For a powerless mutt, you fight well,” Henry mocked. “Break her.”

The blows came from every direction. Kicks to my sides. Fists to my ribs. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.

I collapsed.

Dana crouched beside me, her breath warm and venomous. “It’s just getting started. I’ll enjoy watching you die like your mother did, Zarah.”

Then louder, to the crowd: “Take her to the hall! Let’s make this memorable.”

They dragged me like a rag doll, tossed me into the center of the hall—bloodied, broken, humiliated.

“This,” Dana announced to the room, “is the last survivor of the Silverstone bloodline.”

Henry stepped forward, lifting his hands like he was presenting a prize to a crowd.

“Well then,” he sneered, looking around at the jeering faces in the hall. “Who wants to have a go at her?”