A THREAT

Skaris slammed her harder against the solid stone wall, his broad shoulders pinning her frail frame. He stared directly into her dull, hollow eyes, and his volatile fury deepened with every passing second. Krovos had broken her spirit over the past year, dismantling her mind until she was nothing but an empty shell left behind in the dirt. She did not even hold him in her gaze anymore.

"I am going to kill you!" Skaris growled. His face twisted in rage as his thick fingers dug deeper into her throat, crushing her windpipe.

Elowen did not fight back. She simply closed her eyes in peaceful resignation. The sweet release of death was something she had craved for a long time, a permanent escape from the daily torment she endured as the pack's punching bag. Her pulse beat steadily against his constricting palm. She felt no panic, no desperate urge to gasp for the air he was stealing from her lungs.

"Go ahead, kill me." She whispered the words with zero hesitation.

Skaris glared at her pale, indifferent face. He wanted to snap her delicate neck right then and there, but the rational part of his brain screamed at him to stop. He was not foolish enough to execute the soon-to-be Alpha's favorite, fiercely guarded plaything. If Skaris left even a single visible bruise on this wench just hours before the grand ceremony, Krovos would subject him to unimaginable, bloody torture. The ruthless heir would strip the flesh from his bones for daring to damage his prized property.

Skaris shoved her aside in overwhelming frustration.

"Fuck you!" He spat viciously in her face. He turned on his heel and stormed off down the hall, desperate to prepare himself for the upcoming event before his temper ruined his standing with his stepfather.

Elowen stumbled, her frail shoulder catching against the wooden wainscoting. She found no relief or joy in her continued existence. She calmly wiped the warm saliva from her cheek and adjusted the collar of her drab gray uniform. She walked down the long corridor to the servant washroom, cleaned her face with cold tap water, and stared blankly at her own reflection. Finding nothing left inside herself, she robotically returned to her grueling omega duties. She walked into the bustling kitchens where Morra met her with harsh, barking reprimands.

"You are late! Stop slacking off and take this tray to the VIP front row right now!" Morra shouted. She shoved a heavy silver platter filled with premium drinks into Elowen's hands, glaring at her with blatant disgust before realizing who sat in that row.

Elowen stood silently and accepted the verbal abuse without a single change in her deadpan expression. She curtly accepted the order and navigated her way through the crowded servant corridors until she entered the perimeter of the grand event. The primary recipient of her tray was Beta Varkas. He was her biological father, the man who had sired her.

As Elowen approached his seat and handed him the crystal glass, she felt nothing for the man. They had not spoken a single word to each other since Krovos punished Skaris for trying to kiss her six months ago. Varkas had stood by and watched her become an outcast, offering no protection to his own flesh and blood. He was now just another blurry, insignificant face in the massive crowd. She turned away from him and headed toward the back exit.

Inside the opulent main hall, the loud celebratory cheers for Krovos slowly died down. A thick, reverent silence settled over the massive room as the terrifying Overlord stepped up to the grand podium. His crisp voice began to ring through the huge space, clear as the morning air. Sunlight hit his tall posture from the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a long shadow on the pristine white tiles. It was time for him to formally legitimize the new Alpha's claim, solidifying Krovos's absolute rule over the territory.

Elowen approached the heavy wooden doors to leave the hall and return to the dreary kitchens. Just as her fingers brushed the cold brass handle, a restless, hammering eagerness gripped her chest. She froze in her tracks. An inexplicable, overpowering mix of deep fear and desperate magnetic longing surged through her veins, urging her forward. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped animal trying to break free. She took a step toward the servant corridor, but her body betrayed her mind. The supernatural pull dragged her in the opposite direction. Her slow jog morphed into an uncontrollable, frantic run.

She yanked the heavy wooden doors wide open and stepped directly into the hushed room filled with three hundred seated elites. Her eyes immediately and instinctively locked onto the Overlord standing tall at the podium. Through the thick sea of hundreds of powerful wolves, his faint, intoxicating scent hit her heightened senses. It bypassed all logic, reason, and years of conditioned numbness.

Her battered heart went into a frantic, chaotic flutter, hammering relentlessly against her ribcage. Her world gravitated toward him. An agonizing, consuming physical need to be close to him, to touch his bare skin, to kiss his lips, overwhelmed every rational thought she possessed. The hollow void inside her chest vanished, replaced by a blinding, primal compulsion that she could not fight. She walked blindly down the aisle toward him, ignoring the hundreds of piercing stares directed at her.

At the podium, the Overlord abruptly halted his official speech. His electric blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the young woman walking boldly and uninvited through the seated audience.

Shocked gasps rippled through the elite crowd at the unprecedented sight. A lowly omega in a servant uniform was blatantly interrupting the most sacred event of the decade. Whispers erupted among the high-ranking members as they stared at the intruder.

"What is she doing here?!" Varkas hissed from the front row. He sat stiffly alongside Skaris, his wife, and his younger daughter, staring at his disgraced child in sheer horror and mounting anger.

Watching from his seat of honor at the very front of the audience, Krovos stared intensely at Elowen. His large hands began to visibly tremble against his tailored slacks. He recognized the undeniable, glazed look on her pale face. He had seen it before when she attempted to shift, and the terrible knowledge of what that specific expression meant made him feel physically ill. She was caught deep in the unbreakable trance of a mate bond.

A sickening, suffocating dread clutched his chest, tightening like an iron vice. A sudden, massive, and insurmountable threat loomed directly over the woman who belonged exclusively to him. He could not let another man take his prized possession away.

"Stop her." Krovos ordered the nearby royal warriors darkly, his deep voice laced with pure panic.