The Omega’s Chain

The silver-tipped whip cracked against the stone floor, just inches from my bare toes. I didn't flinch. If I moved, Sancho would find a reason to make the next one land on my back.

"Scrub harder, Thorne," Sancho sneered, his heavy boots clicking as he circled me like a vulture. "The Alpha’s son returns today. If he sees a single speck of dust on this floor, I’ll make sure you spend the night in the silver cages."

I dipped my brush into the bucket of lye, the caustic chemicals burning the raw cracks in my hands. I was the daughter of Alpha Rector, a man whose name was once whispered with respect. Now, I was nothing but the Blood Moon Pack’s favorite punching bag. An Omega slave kept alive only to remind the world of my father’s failure.

"Is the mutt finished yet?"

The voice sent a wave of nausea through me. Fabiana stood at the top of the grand staircase, her silk dress clinging to her curves. She was the Beta’s daughter and the woman everyone expected Xander to claim, regardless of our forced betrothal.

"She’s almost done, Lady Fabiana," Sancho said, his voice instantly turning oily and submissive.

Fabiana walked down the stairs, her eyes fixed on me with a predatory gleam. As she passed the bucket, she "accidentally" kicked it over. The gray, dirty water flooded the section I had just finished cleaning, soaking my thin, tattered tunic.

"Oops," she giggled, resting a hand on her hip. "Look at that. I guess you’ll have to start over, Tricia."

I looked up at her, my damp hair falling over my face. "You did that on purpose."

Fabiana’s smile vanished. She stepped forward and ground her heel into my hand, the one gripping the scrub brush. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, the scent of my own blood starting to fill the air.

"Watch your tone, Omega," she hissed. "You’re lucky we don't just put you down. You’re a parasite living on Xander’s mercy. And when he arrives, he’s going to officially break that pathetic contract your father signed."

The heavy oak doors of the pack house swung open. The air in the room shifted instantly. The temperature seemed to drop, and the heavy, suffocating scent of dark chocolate and winter pine flooded the hall.

Xander.

He walked in with Jack at his side, his black trench coat sweeping behind him. He looked like a god of war, his jawline sharp enough to draw blood and his eyes like chips of frozen sapphire. Every wolf in the room dropped to a knee. Even Sancho bowed his head.

I stayed on the floor, my hand still pinned under Fabiana’s heel.

Xander’s gaze swept the room, dismissive and cold, until it landed on me. He didn't look at me with longing or even pity. He looked at me with the same disgust one might have for a rat caught in a trap.

"Get up," he commanded.

Fabiana quickly pulled her foot back, putting on a mask of innocence. I struggled to my feet, my legs shaking from hours of kneeling. I stood there, shivering and soaked in lye water, a stark contrast to the powerful Alpha standing before me.

Xander walked over, stopping so close I could feel the heat radiating from his massive frame. He reached out, his gloved hand catching my chin and forcing my head up. His grip was brutal, his thumb pressing into the bruise Fabiana had left earlier.

"You look pathetic," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in my chest. "Is this the 'mighty' Thorne princess? A shivering, broken dog?"

"Xander," I whispered, the bond in my chest giving a tiny, desperate throb. "Please."

He let go of my chin so abruptly I stumbled. "Don't say my name with that filthy mouth. You are here because your father traded your life for his own skin. You are a hostage, Tricia. Nothing more."

He turned to Jack, his voice loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "Throw her in the kitchen. She can serve the warriors at the homecoming feast tonight. And Jack?"

"Yes, Alpha?"

Xander glanced back at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Make sure she wears the collar. I don't want her wolf thinking she has a voice at my table."

The room erupted in laughter. My heart felt like it was being crushed by a physical hand. The collar was for rogues. For criminals. To force a betrothed Luna to wear one was the ultimate public execution of her dignity.

"Move it, Omega," Sancho barked, grabbing my hair and yanking me toward the kitchens.

As I was dragged away, I looked back one last time. Xander was leaning down, whispering something into Fabiana’s ear that made her flush with pleasure.