SOLD TO THE BRUTAL ALPHA LORD OF BRIDGEVINE

Lydia

“Stupid child!” A broom flew through the large room and struck me squarely at the back of the head. I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood, swallowing the cry that threatened to escape because I had learned long ago that making a sound only encouraged Maria.

“You never know how to do anything right!” my cousin yelled.

She glared at me, her blue eyes bright with fury, while her wolf churned beneath her skin with the same ugly anger. Her pheromones flooded the room, carrying the sharp scents of hatred and disgust. I dragged myself upright from the floor and reached for the broom, intending to leave before her temper found another reason to punish me.

Something struck the back of my head again.

Pain burst through my skull, and a growl climbed dangerously into my throat. I crushed it before it could escape, curling my fingers into fists at my sides.

“How dare you walk out on me?” Maria demanded, her blue eyes spitting fire.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and I knew I had to tread carefully. When Maria became angry enough, her wolf took over. I was not in the mood to spend what little strength I possessed being clawed and bitten.

So I dropped to my knees again, pressed my forehead against the cold floor, and forced the words from my mouth. “I’m sorry, Lady Maria.”

She growled. My entire body tightened as I heard her sandals storm toward me, and then her foot slammed into my side. The thick leather sole dug into bruised flesh, sending pain through my ribs. I bit my tongue once more and refused to give her the satisfaction of hearing me cry.

“Stupid child! You will wash this entire house before my parents return. I want those floors so clean that I’ll be able to see my reflection in them.”

The sick excitement in her whiny voice made my wolf bristle, but I shoved the stubborn creature down. Whatever happened, I would be the one left to endure the consequences.

Maria kicked me again, directly against the same tender spot.

My breath caught, and before I could recover, she drove her foot into me once more. A violent tremor ran through my body. Then, apparently satisfied, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving the room filled with the fading perfume of her anger.

For several moments, I remained where I was.

When I finally lifted my head, the room swayed around me. I planted both palms against the floor and pushed myself upright with painful slowness. Every part of me burned. Hunger gnawed viciously at my stomach, exhaustion weighed down my limbs, and sleep felt like a distant luxury.

I had not eaten properly in two days.

Maria had made sure of that.

Whenever I finished one task, she found another waiting for me. When the house was clean, she sent me outside. When I returned, there were clothes to wash, food to prepare, shoes to polish, or some imaginary mistake requiring correction. Sleep had become something I stole in fragments, listening for footsteps outside my door.

I limped toward the storage shed to collect water, soap, brushes, and the old bucket that had become almost as familiar as my own hands.

My name was Lydia Mashwood, though I sometimes wondered whether anyone in this house remembered it.

I was an omega, orphaned at three years old after my parents died in what everyone called a tragic accident. I remembered almost nothing about them except a warm voice, a pair of gentle hands, and the vague comfort of being held. After their deaths, my uncle Abel took me into his home.

People often praised him for that.

They never saw what happened behind closed doors.

Abel, his wife, and their daughter had never treated me as family. Somewhere along the way, I had simply become the maid who slept under their roof. Maria was only two years older than me, which might have surprised anyone who heard the way she called me child. Yet I could hardly blame her entirely. She had spent her whole life listening to her mother speak about me as though I were an unwanted thing rather than a person, and I could not remember the last time either of them had called me Lydia.

Sometimes, I suspected they did not even know my name.

Still, I did not hate them.

Perhaps I should have. Perhaps hatred would have made surviving easier. But Abel had taken me in when nobody else wanted the burden of an orphan omega. They gave me a roof, a handful of torn clothes, and food whenever they considered me deserving of it. It was not love, but it was something, and for that small mercy, I remained grateful.

Even when gratitude hurt.

With the bucket in hand, I returned to the house and began filling it with water. Lowering myself to my knees made every joint protest. My wolf stirred, bristling with outrage.

She had been stubborn.

That was strange for an omega.

Omegas were expected to be gentle, pliant, and submissive. We occupied the lowest rank in werewolf society, and most of us learned early not to challenge wolves stronger than ourselves. My wolf, however, seemed to possess a hatred for being told what to do.

Her defiance had gotten me into more trouble than I could count.

Eventually, I learned to hide it. I lowered my eyes when alphas spoke. I softened my voice. I pretended submission even when every instinct inside me wanted to bare my teeth. It was safer that way. A homeless omega could be beaten by strangers, claimed by crueler people, or killed without anyone caring enough to ask questions.

Still, there were moments when I loved that stubborn part of myself.

I could not imagine bowing to an alpha because he was stronger or ranked higher. Unfortunately, imagination and survival were two different things.

At nineteen, most girls my age were married or betrothed to alphas. Maria already had a wealthy suitor and spent hours discussing the grand life awaiting her. As for me, I knew my uncle would rather keep me scrubbing his floors forever than spend money arranging a marriage.

Unless, of course, marrying me benefited him.

I dipped the brush into the soapy water and began scrubbing.

The work lasted for hours.

I cleaned the entrance hall first, then the sitting room, the dining room, and every corridor upstairs. My shoulders screamed with each movement, and my stomach cramped so badly that I occasionally had to stop and breathe through the dizziness.

To distract myself, I allowed my thoughts to wander away.

I imagined a handsome, powerful alpha arriving at the estate. He would be strong enough to make Maria swallow every cruel word she had ever spoken. Perhaps he would see me.

Then he would take me away.

I almost laughed at myself.

Stories like that did not happen to girls like me. Handsome alphas married daughters of powerful families, not forgotten omegas who smelled faintly of soap and exhaustion.

By the time I finished, the sun had shifted low enough to cast long shadows across the spotless floors. My body felt hollow. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into my tiny room and sleep until my bones stopped hurting.

But I knew better than to rest before Maria inspected my work.

I packed away the supplies slowly, careful not to drop anything, when the sound of the front doors opening echoed through the house.

Uncle Abel and Aunt returned from their outing.

My heart sank.

“Lydia.”

Abel’s voice came from the hallway.

I wiped my hands on my skirt and hurried toward him. He stood beside his study door, in his usual fine clothes.

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Come inside.”

The room smelled of expensive liquor and old books. Abel walked behind his desk and sat down while I remained standing before him.

For a moment, he studied me with an expression I could not read.

Then he smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

“I have good news for you,” he said.

A strange uneasiness crawled beneath my skin. “Good news?”

“You will be leaving this house.”

The words struck harder than Maria’s kicks.

I stared at him, unable to understand. Leaving? Where was I supposed to go? I had no money, no family willing to take me, and nowhere to sleep.

My knees hit the floor before I could stop myself.

“Please, Uncle Abel.” Humiliation burned through me, but desperation was stronger. “Please give me another chance. I’ll do better. I’ll work harder. I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”

His smile widened.

“Oh, Lydia,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. “It is far too late for another chance.”

My throat tightened as he continued.

“You see, you no longer belong here.”

I looked up at him, my heart pounding violently.

Abel’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“You already belong to the Alpha Lord now.”