The Lycan King's Captive
Mary, the cook, enters with a tray of food.
"You need to eat, dear," she says gently, setting the tray on my small table.
"I am not hungry," I say.
She sits beside me on the bed, taking my hand. "I know you are scared. But you are stronger than you think, Elena. You have survived nineteen years in this house. I believe you can survive what is coming."
"I am an omega," I whisper. "I am weak. Everyone knows it."
"Omega does not mean weak," Mary says firmly. "It means something different. We have gifts the alphas do not possess. We are healers, nurturers, survivors. Do not let them convince you that you are worthless."