All Chapters of Rejected Omega Princess: Meet My Overprotective Brothers: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

They didn’t use my name when they put the collar on.“Iron for the trouble ones,” the handler muttered, bored, as if he were choosing a leash for a dog. His fingers dug into my jaw, forcing my head up. The ring of metal was cold for a heartbeat.Then he snapped it shut, and it bit.Iron bit my throat the way their lies always had.My breath caught. The edges of the collar scraped raw skin that was already scarred from cheaper metal. I didn’t flinch. Omegas who flinched got spiked collars, shock collars, muzzles. I’d learned that lesson the first month in the servants’ wing.“Lot Twenty-Seven,” the handler called over his shoulder. “Ready.”Lot Twenty-Seven. Not Aria. Not “girl.” Just a number in someone else’s ledger.The holding pen stank of old fear and older blood. Sweat and cheap perfume tried to cover it, but nothing could really hide the sour reek of terror. Around me, other girls knelt in a cramped line, collars clinking when someone’s shoulder brushed another’s.One girl whisp

Not free. Not strong. Awake.The words echoed inside me like a drumbeat as I sat on the thin mattress, heart racing, damp sheets twisted around my legs.I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. Count the breaths. Count anything.One: cracked ceiling. Two: water stains shaped like a crooked wolf. Three: the rusted nail holding the shard of the mirror in place. Four: the faint scrape of wooden dummies outside as someone reset the training yard.This was real.Or the Moon Goddess had crafted the most vicious dream of my life.“Think,” I whispered to myself.My voice still sounded young. Too young.I slid off the bed. My legs wobbled as I stood, the old ache from yesterday’s chores humming in my calves. My toes pressed against the cold stone floor, the same uneven flagstones I used to curse when I stubbed them in the dark.In the yard, Damon swung again, wooden swords slicing the air. He barked a short laugh at something his sparring partner said, the sound snatched away by the late‑day b

I didn’t sleep much after the mark disappeared.Long after the candle burned down to a stub and died, I lay stiff on the thin mattress, staring at the dark. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the twin crescents gleaming under my skin and heard that distant voice:There you are…By the time gray light seeped through the tiny window, my body ached from the day’s work and the night’s tension. My mind, somehow, felt clearer.Last time, mornings had just been the start of another day of surviving. Today felt like the first step of… something else.Not free. Not strong. Awake.I rolled off the mattress, every muscle protesting, and splashed my face in the basin. The water was icy enough to make my teeth click. It helped.The bruise on my cheek had darkened overnight, a purple shadow under the skin. The rest of me looked the same as always: plain, tired, forgettable. No glowing mark, no sign of royal blood. Just a servant girl with dishwater in her hair.But I knew better now.Hidden coi

“I bought myself time,” I whispered under my breath. “Now I have to use it before they sell me in the dark.”Time. A few days, maybe. Enough to breathe, to think.Not enough to be safe.***The backlash came as soon as I stepped back into the servants’ wing.Father was waiting just inside the door, his face mottled red, the Debt Office letter clenched in one hand like he wanted to strangle it.“You stupid girl,” he hissed, fingers already reaching.He didn’t bother with words after that.His hand slammed into my shoulder, shoving me hard into the wall. My shoulder blade cracked against rough stone; white pain flared and then steadied into a hot ache.“You faint in front of the Alpha?” he snarled, spittle hitting my face. “In front of the Debt Office? Do you know what you almost cost us?”Mother hovered behind him, eyes sharp with fear and anger, not concern.“She always was dramatic,” she said. “Always making things about her. If Ironford pulls out because they think she’s sick—”My w

I walked back toward the servants’ wing with the thin Bloodthorn file tucked under my arm and the ghost of Mooncrest hot under my skin.On paper, I was nobody. A foundling by the road, taken in “out of charity.” Easy to trade away.In burnt ink, in a locked cabinet, I was Lyris Aria Mooncrest. Hybrid. Missing. Presumed dead.Both versions were dangerous. One got me sold. The other got me burned.I had to survive both.***Lila was waiting for me just inside the main house corridor, where the polished floors began and scuffed servant stone ended.She leaned against the wall, perfectly posed, a tray of unused teacups at her elbow to justify her presence. Her dress today was soft blue, flattering and expensive. A ribbon tied at her waist made her look younger and sweeter than she was.“Aria,” she said, as if she’d just happened to see me. “There you are.”My fingers tightened on the file.“Lila,” I answered, keeping my tone flat.Her gaze dropped pointedly to the papers, then slid back t