5

I must have eventually drifted to sleep because next I woke up, it was almost morning, and I could hear the distant howl of wolves and birds chirping outside. I envied them—their freedom, their ease, the way they didn’t carry the weight of a pack’s expectations or a heart full of questions. Today was Iron Fang’s big anniversary ceremony, the ninety-sixth, and I had no time to lie around. I dragged myself out of bed, my chest still heavy with thoughts of Adrian, Alexa, and what might happen next. I hurried to the kitchen, my feet moving faster than my mind could keep up.

The kitchen was already buzzing when I got there. For once, the other cooks and omegas were pitching in, everyone rushing around, decorating tables, arranging trays, making sure every detail was perfect for the big day. Katrina, of course, was playing her role as the loud, bossy inspector, strutting around yelling orders at everyone. But not at me. Not a single word came my way, which set my nerves on edge. Katrina didn’t just ignore people—she always had a plan, and her silence made me worry about what she was cooking up this time.

Guests from other packs started arriving, and soon the packhouse was packed with strangers, their voices and laughter filling every corner. I barely had time to think as we started serving, my arms aching from carrying tray after tray, weaving through tables, dropping off plates of food to pack members and visitors alike. I ran back and forth, fetching drinks, clearing dishes, making sure everyone had what they needed.

By the time evening rolled around, I was beyond tired—exhausted down to my bones, like I’d been wrung out and left to dry. Back in the kitchen, the other omegas were complaining about how worn out they were, how they couldn’t wait to crash. I didn’t say anything, but I knew better than to even think about sleep. If I left the kitchen or the packhouse this messy, I’d be in serious trouble tomorrow. So I dragged my tired body around, scrubbing plates, wiping down surfaces, making sure everything was spotless.

I was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in soapy water, when Katrina walked in, a wicked grin plastered across her face. I tried to ignore her, keeping my eyes on the dishes, but she wasn’t having it. “Well, well,” she started, her voice dripping with mockery. “Will you finally accept your place, slave? While we’re out there having fun, dancing, meeting new people, you’re stuck here cleaning up after us. Oh, Ashley, it’s like the Moon Goddess made you just to be everyone’s plaything. Look at you—worthless, orphaned, and now even your mate doesn’t want you.”

Her words hit like a slap, and Alexa whimpered inside my head, the sound soft and pained. I bit my lip hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. She kept going, stepping closer, her voice low and cruel. “Poor little orphan. Even the Moon Goddess thinks you’re nothing. Why else would she pair you with someone who’d rather walk away than look at you?”

I stayed quiet, scrubbing a plate so hard my knuckles turned white. But Katrina wasn’t done. Her tone shifted, turning sickly sweet, like honey laced with poison. “You know, I’m nice, Ashley. Really nice. So nice, I’d even consider sharing my man with you.”

I spun around, my eyes fixed on her feet, refusing to meet her gaze. “I don’t want your man,” I snapped, my voice low but firm, the anger bubbling up before I could stop it.

“Oh, don’t you?” she said, her smile widening, all fake sweetness. “Come on, I know how this mate thing works. You’re dying inside, aren’t you? Torn up because he’s yours but not really. The only way to fix that torment is to reject each other. You and Adrian—you need to cut the bond.”

I froze, her words sinking in. Reject him? The thought made my stomach twist, and Alexa let out another soft whimper. Katrina kept talking, like she was enjoying every second of this. “Speaking of Adrian, he actually sent me to get you.”

My head snapped up, and I met her eyes this time, searching for the lie. “What?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You think I’m lying?” she exclaimed, her hands on her hips, like she was offended I’d even question her. “I know it’s a big deal, getting called by the alpha himself. Trust me, I get it. But yeah, he’s waiting for you. Right now.”

She looked me up and down, her nose wrinkling like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe. “You might want to change into something… less embarrassing,” she said, her voice full of pity she didn’t mean. Before I could say anything, she tossed a small bag at me, the contents rustling as it landed in my hands. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you borrow something of mine. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to ask who was going to finish cleaning up if I left—because I *knew* I’d be the one in trouble if the kitchen was a mess tomorrow. But she cut me off, already turning to leave. “Third door on the right, top floor,” she called over her shoulder, her voice light and casual, like she hadn’t just turned my world upside down. And with that, she was gone.

I stood there, clutching the bag, my mind racing. Was she serious? Was Adrian really waiting for me? Or was this just another one of her games, some twisted setup to humiliate me in front of everyone? Alexa was quiet, but I could feel her stirring, her hope battling my doubt. I wanted to believe Adrian had sent for me, that maybe—just maybe—he was ready to face whatever this mate bond was. But the memory of his angry eyes, the way he’d walked away without a word, made my chest ache. What if I went up there and he rejected me? What if Katrina was setting me up to fall?

I glanced at the bag in my hands, tempted to open it but not sure I wanted to play along with her plan. The kitchen was still a mess, plates piled high, counters cluttered with leftovers. If I left now, I’d pay for it later. But if Adrian was really waiting… I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. I didn’t know what to do, but standing here wasn’t going to answer any questions.

I set the bag down on the counter, my hands trembling as I tried to focus. Part of me wanted to run—out of the kitchen, out of the packhouse, out of Iron Fang altogether. That was the plan, wasn’t it? Get my wolf and go. But Alexa’s quiet hope held me back, her voice from last night echoing in my head: *He might accept us.* I didn’t know if I believed her, but I couldn’t ignore her either.