Chapter 5

CHARLOTTE 

The palace had been buzzing like a disturbed beehive ever since Alpha King Jeffrey stripped Emmalaine of her Luna title. Whispers spread like wildfire through the corridors, down to the kitchens, even into the gardens where the lowest-ranked wolves bent their backs under the sun. Some wolves rejoiced quietly, relieved that a deceitful Luna had finally been unmasked. Others murmured with disapproval, just because an Omega can't be Luna of the pack.

An Omega in the King’s chambers.

She has no right to stand so close to him.

What spell did she cast to make him favor her?

I had heard worse in my past life. Much worse. I had been spat on, kicked, dragged through mud, treated like a mistake born into fur. The memory of those humiliations burned into my skin like scars that never healed. But this time, the gossips no longer cut. This time, I wore them like armor. Every scornful glance was fuel. Every mocking gossip was a reminder of why I was here.

That morning, I stood before Jeffrey, the infamous Alpha King. His dark eyes were fixed on me, sharp as blades, demanding to know why I had made such a strange request.

“You want what?” he asked, his voice low, edged with curiosity.

I met his gaze without flinching, though my heart thundered in my chest. “Make Emmalaine my personal maid,” I said calmly.

A pause. His brow arched. “Why would you want that?”

I lowered my lashes, feigning innocence, feigning fragility, playing the role I had chosen. “She’s no Luna anymore. Better to make her useful than to let her rot in bitterness. Besides…” I forced a small smile. “She knows the palace better than anyone.”

Jeffrey studied me for a long moment, the silence heavy between us. Then, with a sharp exhale, he gave a curt nod. “So be it.”

I bowed my head, hiding the triumphant glint in my eyes.

When Emmalaine entered my chambers for the first time as my “maid,” her entire body radiated fury. She looked like a storm contained in a fragile glass. Her blonde hair gleamed like spun gold, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line. If looks could kill, I would have been reduced to ashes the moment our eyes met.

I didn’t waste time. I handed her a long, handwritten list of my rules, my demands.

“You’ll follow these exactly,” I said, my voice calm but cold.

Emmalaine’s eyes darted over the paper, and then, to my surprise, she burst out laughing. The sound was loud, shrill, ugly. She threw her head back, her shoulders shaking with amusement.

I didn’t flinch. I stood there, waiting, my face expressionless until the last echo of her laughter faded. Only then did I tilt my head and ask softly, “Are you finished making a fool of yourself?”

Her laughter died in her throat. She blinked at me, startled, as if she hadn’t expected me to confront her so directly.

Before she could recover, I strode to my wardrobe, yanked the doors open, and gathered an armful of clothes—silk dresses, velvet gowns, and even the dirtiest linens I could find. I tossed them all at her feet.

“You can start by washing these.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You dare..” She flung the clothes aside with a violent shake of her hands. Her voice rose, venom dripping from every word. “You seem to have forgotten what you are. You’re still an Omega. You will never rule over me!”

Her words cracked the air like a whip, but instead of cowing me, they fueled my rage. My hand moved before I even thought. Slap!

The sound echoed through the chamber, sharp and unforgiving. Her head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming across her cheek.

“When I’m done with you,” I said, my voice low, trembling not with fear but with fury, “you will beg for death.”

Her eyes burned with hatred as she raised her hand to strike me back, but I was faster. I caught her wrist midair and twisted sharply.

She gasped, her arrogance crumbling into panic as pain flickered across her features. “Let go!” she hissed, her knees bending as she tried to free herself.

“Beg,” I whispered, tightening my grip.

Her lips trembled, her pride choking her, but the pain forced a strangled cry. “P-please!”

And that was when I saw movement from the corner of my eye, Jeffrey approaching.

In an instant, my expression changed. I released Emmalaine’s hand so abruptly she stumbled back. Then, with a gasp, I let myself collapse to the ground, clutching my wrist as if it had been injured. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks as I let out a broken sob.

“Charlotte?” Jeffrey’s deep voice cut through the air.

Emmalaine straightened quickly, shock still on her face, clearly unprepared for this sudden shift. She opened her mouth, pointing at me. “She..”

“She slapped me!” I wailed, my voice breaking as I curled into myself. “She said she would kill me in this palace!”

Jeffrey’s head snapped toward Emmalaine. His face darkened like thunder. “You did what?”

Emmalaine’s eyes widened in horror. “No, that’s not..”

The force of Jeffrey’s hand against her cheek sent her sprawling to the floor, her body hitting the polished marble with a sickening thud.

“Never raise your hand against her again,” Jeffrey growled, his voice like fire and steel. “Do you understand?”

Emmalaine clutched her cheek, stunned, hatred blazing in her eyes, but she didn’t dare respond.

Jeffrey turned back to me, his features softening as he knelt. His strong arms lifted me from the ground as though I weighed nothing. He carried me gently to the bed, laying me against the pillows as if I were made of glass.

I made sure Emmalaine saw the way I smiled through my tears as he carried me.

That night, my dreams were anything but peaceful. They were not dreams at all, they were visions flooding me with truths I wasn’t ready to face.

It began in the gardens. I was trimming roses, the crimson petals soft as velvet beneath my fingertips. The thorn pricked my skin, and a single bead of blood welled on my finger.

The world shifted. The ground tilted beneath me. Shadows burst behind my eyes, filling me with screams that weren’t mine.

I saw Emmalaine as she pressed her hands to the chests of weak wolves. I heard their agonized cries as she drained their strength, their very essence, leaving them hollow and broken.

Then the vision shifted, and I was back at the scene of my mother’s car crash. Metal twisted, glass shattered, smoke curling into the night. But this time, I saw more. I saw a pair of gloved hands loosening the brake wires. A faceless figure walking away while my mother’s fate was sealed.

I woke with a scream, my body drenched in sweat. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding as if it would burst.

That was when I saw the mark. A faint glow, etched into the skin of my wrist, pulsing like fire beneath my flesh. The mark of an Alpha.

My breath caught. “What is this?”

I heard a noise and immediately I forced myself to look up, my pulse racing.

And froze.

Someone was watching me.

“Who’s there?” I whispered, my voice trembling.