AMARISBeing a slave in Creekstone was not so bad on some days. Days like this, when I'm crouched underneath a table in the darndest kitchen of the Alpha estate, eating stolen bread crusts and drinking leftover ales. “Where's that little redhead bitch?” A scary, deep, female voice suddenly rose above the clanks of utensils and the noisy chatters. “Whatchamacallit, Mara or Moron?!”A laughter rang in the kitchen, cold and mocking and spiteful. I held my breath under the table, cheeks full, eyes wide. Fuck no. I couldn't let that vile woman see me here, like this. I had joined the wagon of slaves on their way to the estate to prepare for the Alpha’s return from a big retreat. For a measly sum, of course. No one cared about slaves enough to pay them rightly for work done. And right now, I was supposed to be working. I would be toast for the sharks if anyone caught me here, under this table, with stolen bread and drink. “Who has seen the stupid cunt?!” The irritation in her voice
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