First Lesson from Alpha King Daxton

Serafina's POV

"This way," the butler said, his voice clipped as he gestured toward the left and started walking.

I forced my legs to move.

Each step was heavy, and each turn made my head spin.

I had always wanted to be here before running away. But now, I didn't want to stay.

The Central Ironveil estate was enormous, a labyrinth of cold stone corridors, towering archways, and endless staircases.

Unlike the Northern Ironveil Pack, where homes were built for comfort, this place was built to intimidate.

The walls loomed over me, lined with gold sconces and dark tapestries, each embroidered with the sigil of the Cole family, the superior black wolf beneath the full moon.

The air smelled of pinewood and something richer beneath, a scent of dominance and power.

By the time we reached the Guest Wing, my body was screaming in protest.

My legs wobbled from exhaustion, and my stomach twisted with hunger.

The butler finally stopped in front of a large wooden double door.

He reached for a ring of keys at his belt, flipping through them before unlocking it.

The heavy door groaned as it swung open.

"This will be your room from now on," he said stiffly, stepping aside. His tone was mechanical, void of warmth. "Your belongings will be brought in shortly. Someone will come to attend to you soon."

I parted my lips, wanting to ask.

Who? What am I supposed to do next?

But before I could get a word out, he turned sharply and walked away, disappearing down the hall.

No instructions. No explanations.

I let out a slow breath and stepped inside the room.

It was... surprisingly decent, larger than the cramped room I had in my father's house.

A four-poster bed sat against the far wall, covered in fine sheets.

A large wooden wardrobe stood beside it.

A simple vanity table rested near the arched window. Minimal, but comfortable.

But it didn't matter. This wasn't my home.

A sharp knock sounded at the door.

Before I could answer, the door creaked open, and a male servant stepped inside, dragging my luggage behind him.

He didn't speak; he didn't glance at me; he just dropped my things by the door and walked out.

I clenched my jaw, wondering if I was invincible.

Shaking off the irritation, I rushed toward my bag, fingers gripping the handle. I pulled it towards the bed and had just sat down to unzip it when the door burst open again.

Four women entered, dressed in matching dark uniforms, led by an older woman with a presence like steel.

Her posture was rigid, calculated, and her sharp eyes scanned me with the cold efficiency of someone inspecting a flawed piece of merchandise.

None of them greeted me.

The older woman stepped forward, clasping her hands behind her back as she introduced herself to me.

"I am Madam Rachel. I oversee the running of the Ironveil Palace."

Then, without waiting for my reaction, she turned to the servants and barked orders.

"You two, prepare the bath." She gestured toward the first pair of maids. "The other two, arrange her belongings."

They moved instantly, their efficiency unnerving.

I blinked, confusion tightening in my chest. No one had ever attended to me like this, not since I had come to settle Eli's debt.

In my father's house, I was just like a servant.

Now, I was suddenly important enough to warrant maids? I highly doubted that.

Madam Rachel turned back to me, her face impassive.

"It is time for your bath." Her gaze flickered over me, critical and unimpressed. "Strip."

I stiffened at her commands. My fingers instinctively clutched the fabric of my ruined dress.

"I can wash myself."

A tense silence followed.

Then, with a flick of her gaze, two maids suddenly stepped forward, their grip firm as they grabbed my arms.

Instinct, panic, and rage surged through my bloodstream. "Let me go!" I jerked against them, but they held me in place.

Madam Rachel sighed. "You reek, young lady," she said bluntly. "And stray dogs are not allowed in the Ironveil Palace."

Stray dog?

She just called me a stray dog?

A hot wave of humiliation and fury slammed into me.

Without a care in the world, Madam Rachel tilted her head toward the vanity mirror.

"See for yourself."

I didn't want to look. But I did. And my stomach dropped.

My once long, beautiful hair was tangled and dull.

My face was smeared with dirt and dried blood.

My dress, torn and stained.

And my bare feet, caked with dust and filth.

I looked like a beggar.

No wonder they all stared at me with disgust.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered.

How did Daxton even tolerate sitting next to me in the car? He couldn't have had it any easier.

Then, irritation prickled my skin. Serves him right.

I understood now.

My appearance wasn't just an insult to me; it was an insult to Daxton. And his people knew it.

I exhaled sharply. Fine.

I wouldn't argue about being helped with a bath.

Not because I agreed, but because I was too tired to resist.

The maids led me toward the bathroom. A copper tub of steaming water awaited.

The bath wasn't kindness. It was correction.

When they stripped me, I clenched my teeth, swallowing the humiliation.

When they scrubbed my skin raw without mercy, I winced, but I didn't complain.

And when they combed my hair, pulled at the knots, I bit my lip and let them because resistance would only make it worse.

I was new here and still needed to put up with a lot until I had fully adjusted.

Finally, they dressed me in a simple white gown from my closet.

Madam Rachel watched silently before finally speaking.

"You will learn our ways," she said. "Forget whatever you were taught in Northern Ironveil. This is Central Ironveil now."

I said nothing.

"Don't wander around the estate alone." Then she stepped closer as if to make her instructions clear. "You will also remember to respect Alpha King Daxton."

Respect?!

I scoffed inwardly.

That was never going to happen.

Not after the treatment I have received so far.

Next, they measured me for the wedding dress, taking note of the pointers from Madam Rachel on a piece of paper.

Madam Rachel equally ordered that a white hat veil be made to cover my face because of the scar, before giving out an instruction for a doctor to examine my face after the wedding.

I wasn't concerned with her interest in healing my scar because I had no intention of using whatever ointment they gave me.

Finally, Madam Rachel clapped her hands. "Time for dinner."

She pressed a small scented pouch into my palm. "You will carry this at all times," she instructed.

I was too exhausted to argue. But the final blow?

After dragging myself through endless hallways and staircases to the dining room, I arrived, only to find Daxton absent.

Yet, I was forced to wait. Because no one could eat until the Alpha arrived.

Thirty minutes later, he never showed.

Then a servant finally informed me he wouldn't be coming anymore.

No apology. No explanation.

My stomach growled painfully, and my fists clenched. I had no doubts that Daxton had done this on purpose to teach me a lesson.

Ruthless bastard.