Dawn Comes Too Soon

They came for me at sunrise.

I’m still awake, staring at the water-stained ceiling as twenty other women breathe quietly around me. I haven't slept, can't sleep, just listening, wondering if this is the night I die.

The lock clicks open. That sound, hard and final, means someone’s getting dragged out and not coming back. It's like a death rattle. The door slams back, and two guards fill the frame. Alphas, both of them, big enough to block out the morning light. Carter is one of the guys who takes real joy in dragging servants to places they never come back from.

“Daniels. Up. Now.”

I didn’t argue. Arguments get you a beating before a bullet, and I want to skip that.

The other women didn’t move. They've learned the same lesson I have: stay invisible, act deaf, don’t care about anything that doesn't threaten you. It’s harsh, but it keeps us breathing.

I slide out of the bunk, still in yesterday’s uniform. I didn't see the point in changing if I was going to die. My hands are steady as I slip into my old canvas shoes. Three years of waiting for this, and all I’ve done is rehearse how it feels – familiar, not easier.

"Relax, Carter."

Carters already impatient. "Let's go.

I dropped my head, round my shoulders, and followed them. The “don't-see-me” posture, perfected over a thousand nervous mornings. They walk me through halls I know like the back of my hand. Past the kitchens, where breakfast has started. Past industrial washers thundering day and night. Then, not down toward the execution rooms, but toward the elevators that serve the upper floors.

We go up.

The elevator isn’t the one I’m used to. The doors shine like chrome, the interior glows with soft lighting, fancy, and expensive. My stomach flips as we rise higher and higher: past the fighters’ levels, past admin, up and up into places I’ve never been.

When the doors open, cold air hits me first, then the smell knocks me dizzy: antiseptic mixed with something rich, like honey. Everything is too white, too still, like the air itself has been scrubbed. Medical territory. It doesn’t make sense. They don’t bring people here to kill them, they fix them, or study them, or maybe carve something out before they toss the leftovers.

None of that sounds good.

Carter gives me a hard shove. "Keep moving.

We stop at a door with a palm scanner. The other guard taps the reader, and another lock snaps open.

Inside, it looks like a surgical suite that never gets used. Walls are lined with machines I don’t recognize, monitors, tubes, shiny new tech. The centerpiece is a table with restraints bolted on.

My mouth goes dry.

Next to the table stands a doctor, in his late forties, a white coat crisp enough to slice through a glass. Grey at the temples, wire-rimmed glasses, expression blank as a wall. He glances up from his tablet.

“Miss Daniels. Thank you for joining us. I’m Dr. Landon Hayes.” Polished, emotionless voice. “Please, sit on the table.”

I didn’t move.

Carter grabs my shoulder, squeezing it till it hurts. "The doctor gave you an instruction.

Dr. Hayes steps forward, calm as ever. "Relax, Carter." He smiled, not unkindly. "It's a routine exam.

Liar. Every part of me wants to run, but that’s not an option. Carter’s grip tightens, and the other guard blocks the door.

I climbed onto the table.

“Excellent. Now, if you lie back and place your wrists in the restraints.”

I manage to find my voice, barely.

“Standard protocol for your safety and ours," Dr. Hayes replied.

More lies. But refusing only ends with me being forced down anyway, and I want to hold onto what's left of my dignity.

I lay back, the restraints snapping shut around my wrists with no escape. Dr. Hayes straps my ankles, and I'm stuck fast. Knox was right.

My wolf stirs, bristling under the layers I’ve piled on her. She hates being pinned down, as do I. "

“Let’s begin,” Dr. Hayes says, rolling over a tray of sharp, gleaming instruments that look more like torture tools than medical gear.

The next twenty minutes blur: needles draw blood, electrodes stick to my skin, and something presses against my chest.

“Fascinating,” he whispers, glued to his screen. Suppression is remarkable. Self-imposed, if I’m reading this right. You’ve kept your wolf muzzled for years.

I can’t reply. My voice is locked behind a wall of terror.

“But under all that, the markers are obvious,” Dr. Hayes leans in, almost excited. “Alpha strength. Luna class. And something else. Something you don’t find in common servants.

He swipes through data, his eyes wild.

Royal bloodline, dormant but unmistakable. Doesn't matter. Luna class. Knox was right.

You’re not just any Luna; you’re descended from the old monarchy. The genetic markers are clear as day.

No, he must be mistaken. I'm nobody, just a servant, not some hidden heir. The thought claws at my chest, panic rising as if my secret skin was being peeled away. I’ve spent my whole life making sure of it. Just a servant who scrubs floors and prays to be overlooked.

“These change everything,” Dr. Hayes mutters, barely looking at me. “So many applications. The breeding potential alone, the black-market value...”

Breeding. My stomach drops, and my hands go cold.

“I think we’ve seen enough, Doctor.

Knox Ashford stands in the doorway, owning every inch of space. He’s perfect: dark suit, silver hair, eyes like old coins. He doesn’t even have to try, and the room bends to him anyway. I’ve only ever seen him from afar, never met his gaze. Up close, he’s even more intimidating. Handsome in a way that masks just how deadly he is, all sharp jaw and a smile that never quite reaches those coin-flat eyes, like you’re a fool if you think he means it.

I have never been more scared.

“You’ve been hiding in plain sight, little Luna,” Knox says, moving toward the table. “Three years cleaning my arena and I never realized I housed a goldmine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice barely shakes.

“Your blood does. And soon, so will everyone else.

Knox signals Dr. Hayes, who undoes the restraints. My wrists tingle where the metal bit in. My ankles are sore, but I’m free.

Doesn’t matter. Knox blocks the only exit, guards box me in. Freedom’s an illusion.

“Sit up, please,” Knox says. “We have a lot to discuss.

I push myself up, every muscle burning. My wolf is awake and restless, clawing for space. She wants out, wants to fight, wants to run.

All I can do is sit.

“You’re more valuable than I first thought,” Knox says, like he’s already decided what to do with me. “Royal blood:” Unclaimed Luna. Alpha power bottled up like you’re scared of it. Do you even realize how rare that is?”

“I’m just a servant."

"Was a servant. His smile widens, cold as ice. Now you're my newest investment, and that royal blood of yours is going to earn its keep."