Semua Bab A Breeder For The Alpha King [Between the two worlds]: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The dress clung uncomfortably to Freya’s thin frame as she worked in the kitchen, stirring the pot of stew that would feed her family. The scent of herbs and simmering meat filled the air, but instead of pride, she only felt the familiar ache of exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders. Even in something new, she was still the servant. The door creaked open. Amanda strutted in, her curls bouncing, her lips tinted with color. She looked at Freya as though she were filth standing too close to her shoes. “You. Come,” Amanda snapped, seizing her wrist without waiting for a response. The spoon slipped from Freya’s hand, clattering against the pot. Her stomach knotted. She wiped her palm nervously against the fabric of her skirt but followed, because resistance only ever ended with bruises. The moment they stepped into the hallway, Freya noticed it. Enzo stood tall in a polished tunic, his hair neatly combed back. Amanda’s dress shimmered faintly in the candlelight, elegant and well-fit

The Northridge pack house loomed larger than anything Freya had ever seen before. The sprawling estate seemed magnificent, with shadows stretching across the stone walls as the sun fell behind the treeline. It was beautiful in a way that made her chest ache, but to Freya, it felt less like a home and more like a prison. Beta Xavier had escorted her straight through the heavy gates and into the mansion without saying much. His presence was unnervingly calm, his steps measured as though nothing could shake him. The moment they arrived, he handed her over to the maids without so much as glancing back. The women were efficient, their faces kind but detached as they scrubbed her down, clothed her in simple linen, and ushered her into a small room on the west wing of the house. For the first time in days, Freya had a real bed and clean clothes. But the warmth that should have brought comfort only pressed on her heart like a weight. She was still someone’s property. One of the women stayed

A month had passed since Freya had been brought into the Northridge Pack, and slowly, painfully, she had accepted the truth of her existence. She was nobody—just a wolfless omega bound by circumstances, thrown into a world where she had no real say in her future. The first few weeks she had clung to fragile hope, imagining that perhaps her old pack would send for her, that perhaps her father would beg the Alpha to reconsider, that maybe—just maybe—her fate could be undone. But each day that passed made it clearer. No one was coming. Her room, though small, had become her safe haven. She spent hours there, sitting by the window and watching the pack grounds from a distance. The Northridge territory was different from the terrifying stories she had grown up hearing. She had been told the Northridge wolves were merciless savages, brutal even to their own, but that wasn’t entirely true. The people here lived with discipline, yes, but also with a sense of order. They smiled, they worked, t

The morning of the meeting came with the sky gray and the atmosphere cool, a thin mist curling over the pack grounds. Freya sat by the mirror, her fingers absently tugging at the hem of her gown. Her heart beat in an anxious rhythm, louder than the chirping of the birds outside. Samantha was with her, brushing her hair with gentle strokes, and murmuring words of encouragement. “You’ll be fine,” Samantha said gently. “It’s just a meeting. Nothing you can’t handle.” Freya nodded but didn’t answer. She had long since learned to mask her nerves with silence. The door creaked open, and a lively voice spilled into the room. “There you are!” Rita, Xavier’s mate, entered with her usual cheerfulness. She was younger than Samantha judging from the looks and close to Freya’s age, and from the moment Freya arrived, she had been among the few who reached out to her. Rita’s golden-brown hair was braided neatly, her smile as radiant as always. “You look tense already,” Rita teased, dropping into

Freya lay on the bed, her body damp with sweat and the remnants of what had transpired. Her mind raced in a thousand directions, trying to piece together what had just happened. Beside her, Logan slept with his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his breathing heavy and unbothered. What just happened? she whispered under her breath, clutching the bedsheet to cover her bare skin. Her lingerie lay discarded across the room, a silent testimony of the night. Heat rose to her cheeks as she crept under the covers, shame and disbelief warring within her. A low voice startled her. “Don’t you think it’s time to leave for your room?” Her head snapped toward him. His eyes were open now, watching her with a calm detachment that cut deeper than anger. “Leave for my room?” she asked, confusion threading her voice. “Can’t I stay here? With you?” She had thought—hoped—that what they shared last night meant something. Surely she wasn’t just a vessel to him. Surely she wasn’t only his breed