Chapter 2: Meet the Alpha

  Serena’s POV 

  

  

  

   I didn’t dream that night.

  

  

   I didn’t sleep deeply enough to.

  

  

   Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same thing—shattered glass, deep red wine, and those unreadable silver eyes staring straight into me. My stomach twisted every time I remembered the sound, the silence after, the weight of the whole room watching me kneel.

  

  

   But it wasn’t the shame that kept me awake.

  

  

   It was him.

  

  

   The Alpha.

  

  

   The way he looked at me. Calm. Quiet. Studying me like I was something he hadn’t decided whether to keep or crush.

  

  

   I got out of bed before dawn.

  

  

   The guest wing was still and cold, the old pipes humming beneath the walls. Ari stirred once in his crib but stayed asleep. I watched his little chest rise and fall, his soft curls clinging to his forehead. For a moment, I let myself be distracted by him—by the only thing in my world that made sense.

  

  

   But that peace didn’t last long.

  

  

   By the time I was dressed and quietly sweeping the hallway outside our small apartment, I heard footsteps—sharp, fast ones.

  

  

   Marla, the head maid, turned the corner with a paper slip clutched in her hand. Her heels clicked with purpose.

  

  

   “There you are,” she said, holding out the note without even greeting me.

  

  

   I wiped my palms on my apron before taking it.

  

  

   My eyes scanned the paper.

  

  

   Reassignment Order: Serena H.

  

   New Duty: Alpha Kael’s Personal Wing – Room 301.

  

   Effective: Immediately.

  

  

   I blinked.

  

  

   I read it again.

  

  

   “This… can’t be right,” I said, my voice dry. “There must be a mistake—”

  

  

   “No mistake,” Marla said flatly. “It came from the Beta’s mouth. Signed and sealed. You’re to report to your mother for protocol. Now.”

  

  

   She turned and walked away.

  

  

   I stood frozen in place.

  

  

   Assigned to Alpha Kael’s personal wing?

  

  

   Me?

  

  

   I felt a jolt in my chest—not fear exactly, but something close. Something cold and hot at the same time. Was it because of last night? Was this punishment? A test? Or something worse?

  

  

   ⸻

  

  

   I found my mother in the main kitchen, giving orders to the younger maids. She looked tired, but sharp as always—her sleeves rolled up, apron tied tight. When I handed her the paper, she barely flinched.

  

  

   “I knew this would happen,” she muttered, folding it once and tucking it away.

  

  

   “Knew what?”

  

  

   “That your eyes would land on something dangerous.”

  

  

   “I didn’t do anything,” I said quietly.

  

  

   She turned to me then, and her face was serious. Too serious.

  

  

   “Listen to me, Serena. You’ve been assigned to his care, so you’ll do your job. But you must remember what you are in that house.”

  

  

   Her voice lowered.

  

  

   “You’re human. You’re a maid. That man is an Alpha.”

  

  

   “I know that—”

  

  

   “No. You think you do. But you’ve never served someone like him. Alpha Kael wasn’t raised here. He wasn’t spoiled by soft rules and friendly elders. He was shaped in blood, raised by warriors, and trained to lead in war. He’s not cruel for sport—he’s cruel for survival. You don’t look him in the eyes. You don’t speak unless spoken to. You clean. You serve. You leave.”

  

  

   Her eyes bore into mine.

  

  

   “And you never, under any circumstance, get comfortable.”

  

  

   I nodded slowly, my throat tight.

  

  

   She pressed a key into my hand. It was silver, cold, and had the number 301 engraved at the top.

  

  

   “Start now,” she said.

  

  

   ⸻

  

  

   The Alpha’s wing was silent.

  

  

   Not the kind of silence that comforted—but the kind that felt like a held breath before a storm. The hallway stretched long and elegant, the dark wood walls broken only by tall windows draped in thick velvet. Everything smelled faintly of leather and cedarwood.

  

  

   Room 301 was at the very end.

  

  

   The door loomed tall and heavy, its silver handle glinting in the early light.

  

  

   I stood there for a second, heart racing.

  

  

   Then I knocked.

  

  

   No answer.

  

  

   I waited.

  

  

   Then turned the key and pushed the door open.

  

  

   The room was massive.

  

  

   Not in a gaudy way—but in the way of someone used to space and control. A king-sized bed sat perfectly made against the far wall, covered in dark grey sheets. A fireplace crackled gently nearby, its low flames casting soft light across the wooden floors. A modern desk stood by the window, its surface neat—too neat. Not a single thing out of place.

  

  

   And there, on the private balcony, stood him.

  

  

   Shirtless.

  

  

   Facing away.

  

  

   My breath caught before I could stop it.

  

  

   His back was broad and cut with smooth, powerful muscle. Black markings curled up his shoulder blades and neck—tattoos or something else. Scars crisscrossed in places too. Old. Faint. But real.

  

  

   He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  

  

   So I did.

  

  

   “I’m here to clean,” I said, voice low.

  

  

   A pause.

  

  

   Then he spoke—calm, deep, with no warmth or interest.

  

  

   “You may proceed.”

  

  

   I moved quietly toward the side of the room, where a single shirt lay folded over a chair. That was the only sign anyone had actually slept here. The rest of the space was cold, controlled, unwelcoming.

  

  

   I started there—folding the shirt properly, smoothing out the chair cover, straightening the edges of the bed. I worked slowly, carefully, the way I’d been taught.

  

  

   But I could feel him.

  

  

   Not just his presence—but his attention. Even when he wasn’t looking at me, I felt it.

  

  

   At one point, I reached to adjust the curtains and glanced at the mirror beside the window. I saw his reflection.

  

  

   He was watching me.

  

  

   Through the glass, through the silence.

  

  

   His gaze held no expression. No desire. No rage. Just… observation. Like I was something to figure out.

  

  

   I quickly looked away.

  

  

   He didn’t say a word.

  

  

   I moved to the bathroom next, wiping the counter, adjusting the towels, checking the supplies. Everything was already clean. I got the strange feeling that it had been cleaned the night before—and I was here more to be watched than to clean.

  

  

   When I returned to the main room, Kael had stepped back from the balcony. He stood by the fireplace now, pulling a black shirt over his head.

  

  

   I kept my eyes down.

  

  

   “You’re the one who dropped the glass,” he said suddenly.

  

  

   I froze.

  

  

   My hands stilled over the edge of the bed.

  

  

   I didn’t answer.

  

  

   “Last night,” he continued, voice smooth. “The red wine. In front of the Elders.”

  

  

   I nodded once, eyes still on the sheets. “Yes, Alpha.”

  

  

   A pause.

  

  

   “Why did you break the glass”

  

  

   I bit my lip.

  

  

   “I—I didn’t mean disrespect, it wasn’t intentional “

  

  

   “You weren’t focused .”

  

  

   I looked up just slightly—only to his chest. Not his eyes.

  

  

   “I….I 

  

  

   Another pause.

  

  

   Then:

  

  

   “Just get back to work” he said sharply 

  

  

   I didn’t respond to his words.

  

  

   The room suddenly felt colder, even with the fire crackling gently behind him.

  

  

   I focused on the laundry pile by the corner of the room. A set of clean shirts, folded slacks, and a soft black towel rested beside what looked like a velvet-lined box of accessories. I reached to fold the last shirt more neatly—something to keep my hands busy, something to anchor me.

  

  

   That’s when my hand brushed the small table.

  

  

   And something slipped.

  

  

   A click.

  

  

   A clink.

  

  

   A sound no servant ever wants to hear.

  

  

   I turned just in time to see a gold watch—sleek, heavy, and expensive—slide off the edge of the polished dresser and hit the hardwood floor.

  

  

   It didn’t shatter.

  

  

   But it made a noise loud enough to stop time.

  

  

   I froze.

  

  

   A strangled gasp caught in my throat. I bent down quickly, gently lifting it. No cracks. No obvious scratches.

  

  

   But I didn’t know for sure.

  

  

   Behind me, I heard his footsteps.

  

  

   Slow. Measured.

  

  

   “What was that?”

  

  

   His voice was low, but sharp.

  

  

   I turned, holding the watch delicately in both hands.

  

  

   “I—I’m sorry, Alpha. I knocked your watch by accident. It didn’t break, I swear—”

  

  

   He snatched it from my hands.

  

  

   Inspected it.

  

  

   The silence between us stretched thin.

  

  

   Then—

  

  

   “Are you always this clumsy?” he snapped, voice no longer calm.

  

  

   I opened my mouth, but no words came.

  

  

   “First a glass. Now this. Do you just drop things wherever you go?”

  

  

   I stepped back instinctively. My heart slammed against my ribs. “It wasn’t on purpose—”

  

  

   “You think intention matters to people ?” he barked.

  

  

   His voice thundered across the room, slamming into my chest like a physical blow. I flinched without meaning to.

  

  

   “I should’ve known they’d assign me someone useless.”

  

  

   His words cut sharper than I expected. My hands trembled at my sides.

  

  

   “Are you crying?” he asked, tone now laced with disgust. “Seriously?”

  

  

   I hadn’t even noticed the sting in my eyes until he said it.

  

  

   “I’m not,” I whispered.

  

  

   He took one step closer.

  

  

   One slow, deliberate step.

  

  

   I didn’t dare move.

  

  

   “You’ve been in my wing less than an hour, and you’ve already proven two things,” he said coldly. “One you’re clumsy and two you are you dumb “ can’t you speak for yourself?” He yelled again

  

  

   The air left my lungs like a punch to the gut.

  

  

   I wanted to defend myself. To say I wasn’t like the others. That I tried. That I was careful. But I knew better. He wasn’t interested in reasons. He was building walls. And I was just something beneath his boots.

  

  

   He turned away, tossing the watch back on the dresser without another glance at it—or me.

  

  

   “Get out,” he said.

  

  

   I stood there a second too long, unsure if I heard him right.

  

  

   “I said get out.”

  

  

   I turned and left, not daring to close the door too loudly behind me. My legs carried me quickly down the long hallway, but my thoughts raced faster.

  

  

   His voice echoed in my head.

  

  

   His face. The sharpness in his tone. The pure fury beneath the surface.

  

  

   And the way my fear had returned so fast.

  

  

   I was afraid

  

  

   Not just of his anger.

  

  

   But of what kind of man he truly was underneath that quiet, controlled shell.