A Dangerous Discovery

The next month and a half blur into a living nightmare. Whatever spark of motivation I held onto before the slave brand is gone. The kitchen demands consume my existence. I no longer just prepare breakfast and dinner. I make lunch for the entire packhouse too, on top of managing the massive pantry inventory. My day begins at five in the morning and ends past midnight, an endless cycle of scrubbing, chopping, hauling heavy sacks of flour, and enduring relentless cruelty.

Thank Goddess for Nix. She keeps me tethered to sanity. Nix urges me to cherish the brief pockets of time we share alone, mostly when I stand over the hot stoves preparing meals.

I actually find a strange peace in cooking while Nix talks in my head. The rest of the pack considers kitchen duty beneath them, so no one bothers to step foot inside while I work. We hold long, uninterrupted conversations. I manage to dig up a few dusty recipe books shoved in the back of a rusted cupboard. I teach myself new techniques, trying out different spice blends and roasting methods. Creating something tangible, something that smells good and tastes rich, gives me a tiny shred of purpose.

Outside the kitchen walls, my life is hell. Alpha Kaelen encourages the pack to treat me like dirt on their shoes. They take full advantage. Omegas shove me in the hallways. Ranked members hurl insults and spoiled food at me. Kaelen himself stalks down to my dungeon cell multiple times a week. He beats me for imaginary offenses, leaving my ribs bruised and my face swollen. Jaxon often shadows his father. My tormentor stands in the doorway, leaning against the iron bars. Sometimes Jaxon even fetches the leather whip for Kaelen, handing it over with a sick, twisted smile. Jaxon never strikes me himself. He just watches, eyes tracking the blood running down my back.

Nix screams in my mind during every beating. She begs me to fight back. She wants to tear their throats out. But fighting back means a guaranteed death sentence. If I retaliate, or worse, if I actually shift into a wolf, Kaelen will slaughter us both on the spot.

Nix refuses to accept this reality. She insists everything will change the moment we shift. She repeats her favorite claim endlessly—we are a daughter of the Moon Goddess, a divine warrior born for battle. She grows frustrated when I lower my head and submit to the blows. She hates that I keep her a secret, warning me that suppressing her presence drains her strength.

"Okay, Nix, a couple of problems with your battle plan," I mutter for the millionth time, collapsing onto my thin, lumpy mattress after an eighteen-hour shift. Every muscle in my body screams in protest. "First, I have no idea when or how I can let you out. I work from before dawn until the dead of night. Second, if the Alpha catches even a whiff of a wolf inside me, he won’t bother banishing us. He will execute me in the courtyard. Third, we are a slave. We aren’t even an omega. We are nothing."

"Cal, we are not just a warrior," Nix says, her voice echoing with ancient, steadfast pride. "We are a child of the Moon Goddess. She is our mother."

I roll my aching eyes in the dark. "Okay, fine. I don't know when I can let you out, but the moment I see a safe opening, I will take it. I promise."

That vow usually pacifies her. We tread the same ground every night, debating the difference between all werewolves being children of the Moon Goddess in a religious sense, versus being her literal, biological child. Nix does not grasp the metaphor. She firmly believes the deity of our kind is our actual, physical mother.

Every night, I pass out the second my eyes close. The days stretch longer and hurt more when Kaelen visits. Nix remains the best companion I could ever ask for, constantly offering support and demanding I stay strong, even as her energy wanes. Guilt gnaws at my chest because I cannot give her the freedom she craves.

One sweltering afternoon, I stand over a massive cast-iron skillet, searing chicken breasts for lunch. Macy, Kaelen's personal omega, scurries into the kitchen. She stops a few feet away, holding her nose as if my presence makes her sick. She snaps that the Alpha demands to see me in his office immediately.

I drop the metal tongs onto the counter, wipe my greasy hands on my stained apron, and sprint toward the administrative wing.

I rap my knuckles softly against the heavy oak door.

"Come in," Kaelen barks from the other side.

I push the heavy wood open just enough to slip my body through. "You called for me, Alpha?" I ask, keeping my voice low and submissive. Surviving Kaelen requires speaking as little as possible and never asking follow-up questions.

"Don't just stand there, get in here."

I hurry inside and pull the door shut, keeping my back pressed near the frame just in case I need to bolt.

"Cal, we have a delegation arriving from the Crimson River pack next week," Kaelen says. He sits behind his massive desk, shuffling a stack of documents. "Twenty wolves total. Their ranked members, their mates, the head of their security, and their guard detail. If this negotiation goes smoothly, we form a military pact with them. They must be treated with peak respect and courtesy. You will deliver fresh lunches to the conference room every single day. You will prepare a massive, formal dinner every night. Keep their guest pantries stocked with premium snacks and liquor. And above all else, stay the Hell out of their way. Got it?"

I keep my chin tucked to my chest, letting the brim of my ratty baseball cap hide my eyes. In all these weeks, Kaelen still hasn't noticed my eyes are glowing purple. Or if he has, he doesn't care. He ignores my silver hair too.

"Yes, Sir."

"The bulk of their group arrives on Monday. Their Alpha arrives on Tuesday. We throw a massive welcome party for him after Tuesday's dinner. Make sure the kitchen produces enough food to feed a small army. Go find Judd. Give him the grocery lists for the extra supplies. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We keep the Crimson River Alpha happy. If you mess up a single meal, I won't hesitate to let him rip your throat out. Do you understand?" He rises from his leather chair, planting his massive hands flat on the desk. His dark Alpha aura floods the room, heavy and suffocating.

"Y-yes, sir."

"Now get out of my sight." He jerks his chin toward the exit.

I scramble out of the office, gasping for fresh air the second the door clicks shut. I need to find Judd. Judd manages the finances and supply orders for the packhouse. He spends most afternoons holed up in his office down the east corridor. My brain immediately shifts gears, calculating the pounds of raw meat, cases of vegetables, and barrels of alcohol required to feed twenty visiting warriors.

Crimson River is a nightmare pack. They dominate the entire northern region, leaving Iron Moon in second place. Rumors claim their pack operates like a ruthless military dictatorship. They employ dark witches and rogue magicians to maintain their stranglehold on neighboring territories. I pray they leave their dark magic users at home. The whispers also say their Alpha personally slaughters any pack member who fails his brutal combat tests. Weakness equals death in Crimson River. I definitely need to stay invisible.

I reach Judd's office and knock on the frosted glass pane. I hear distinct rustling and thumping sounds coming from inside, but he ignores the knock. I rap my knuckles harder. The guy knows my scent. He knows I stand right outside.

"I don't like this guy, Cal," Nix grumbles in my head. "He’s a creep. He stares at your chest when you talk to him."

"We don't have a choice, Nix. Kaelen put him in charge of the money. I need his signature for the food orders."

"Ugh. Fine. Let's make it fast."

I knock a third time, louder and sharper.

"What is it?!" Judd roars from the other side of the wood.

Assuming that serves as permission, I push the door open. The words freeze in my throat. The scene in front of me sears into my retinas.

Judd stands pinned against the edge of his mahogany desk, his pants shoved down around his ankles. A naked blonde female leans back across the scattered paperwork. Her bare legs are wrapped tight around Judd's waist, her heels digging into his lower back. Judd’s bare ass flexes and strains as he thrusts his hard penis deep inside her wet vagina. The raw, slick sound of his cock slapping against her pussy echoes off the office walls. Sweat drips down Judd's flushed neck. The female has her face buried in Judd's chest, her blonde hair spilling over his shoulder, masking her features. But the heavy, musky stench of wild sex mixes with a sharp, unmistakable scent—crushed vanilla and roses.

My blood turns to ice. Luna Helena. Judd is fucking the Alpha’s mate.

Judd’s head snaps toward the door. His eyes bulge. "Get the fuck out, Cal! I'm busy here!"

My jaw hangs open. My brain misfires. Judd is having sex with the Luna right in the middle of the packhouse.

"GET OUT, CAL!" he screams, his voice cracking with panic and rage.

My survival instincts finally kick in. I slam the heavy door shut, spin on my heels, and run. I sprint down the corridor, my worn sneakers slapping against the hardwood floors. All the blood drains from my face. My chest heaves. If anyone finds out what I just witnessed, I am dead. Judd will kill me. Helena will kill me. Kaelen will torture me to death just for being in the same room. Holy crap. Holy crap.

Nix finds the entire situation hilarious. She howls with laughter in my head as I barricade myself in the kitchen.

"It isn't funny!" I scream internally, leaning against the stainless steel prep counter, clutching my chest. I desperately try to scrub the image of Judd’s thrusting hips from my mind.

I grab two heavy silver platters loaded with roasted chicken, preparing to carry them out to the dining hall.

The kitchen doors fly open. They smash against the walls with a deafening crack.

Judd charges into the room like a rabid bull. He ignores the countertops and the stoves, making a straight line for me. Before I can drop the platters, his massive hand clamps around my throat. He lifts me off my feet and slams my back against the brick wall.

The silver platters crash to the floor, sending chicken and hot grease spraying across the tiles.

Judd hauls his right arm back and drives his fist square into my face. Bone crunches. The back of my skull rebounds off the solid brick. A blinding flash of white stars explodes across my vision. Hot blood instantly gushes from my shattered nose, pouring over my lips and chin. I let out a choked, gurgling groan, my legs kicking uselessly in the air.

"You didn't see anything!" Judd snarls. His pupils blow wide, his eyes turning pitch black as his wolf rises to the surface.

He squeezes my windpipe. Sharp, jagged claws erupt from his fingertips. They pierce the tender flesh of my neck. I feel the warm trickle of blood sliding down my collarbone as his claws dig deeper, threatening to sever my jugular.

"You understand me, you little bitch?!" he roars, spit flying into my face.

Fear paralyzes my nervous system. I cannot breathe. I cannot speak. I cannot even nod my head. The edges of my vision turn dark.

Then, a strange sensation washes over me. I feel myself falling backward inside my own mind. The sheer terror fades, replaced by a cold, detached calm. I blink rapidly. When my eyes open again, it feels like I stare through a thick sheet of glass. I watch my own body move without my permission.

"Let her go."

The words echo out of my mouth, but the voice belongs to Nix. It sounds nothing like my raspy, broken tone. Nix’s voice booms through the kitchen, deep, ethereal, and vibrating with ancient power. The heavy cast-iron pots rattle on the stovetops. The metal utensils shake against the counters as she releases a low, bone-rattling growl.

Through the glass in my mind, I watch helplessly as my own hands rise. A blinding, vibrant violet light erupts from my palms. The purple fire crackles in the air. My glowing hands shoot forward and clamp down hard around Judd's thick wrists.

Judd’s black eyes snap wide open in sheer terror. He opens his mouth and unleashes a blood-curdling howl of pure agony.

A loud, violent sizzling noise fills the kitchen, followed immediately by the putrid stench of burning hair and roasting flesh. The violet fire sears straight through Judd’s thick skin the second my palms make contact.

He rips his hands away from my neck, frantic to escape the burning pain. He stumbles backward, tripping over his own feet, and crashes hard onto the greasy floor tiles. I drop down, my sneakers hitting the ground.

Judd cradles his smoking, blistered wrists against his chest. "How are you doing this?! What the Hell are you, Cal?!"

My body stands up straight. I suddenly feel massive, towering over the cowering male despite my small frame. The violet fire continues to dance across my knuckles, casting eerie purple shadows against the kitchen walls.

Nix glares down at him, her voice striking the room like a hammer against an anvil.

"I am a warrior child of the Moon Goddess. If you breathe a single word of what happened here today... I. WILL. KILL. YOU."