Nila’s fingers ached as she scrubbed the heavy iron grate of the packhouse kitchen fireplace. The soot clung to her skin, mixing with the sweat dripping from her forehead, burning her eyes. She didn't stop. To stop meant drawing attention, and attention in the Down Pack house always came with a physical cost.
Around her, the kitchen bustled with frantic energy. Trays of roasted meats, fresh bread, and expensive wines were being loaded onto carts by the omegas. Tonight was the diplomatic summit. For the first time in a decade, the powerful Alpha of the Up Pack was crossing the border into their territory. The entire packhouse had been turned upside down to prepare for his arrival, leaving Nila with twice the workload and half the time to complete it.
"Move it, curse," a harsh voice barked from above her.
Before Nila could react, a heavy leather boot slammed into her shoulder, shoving her forward. Her face scraped against the rough stone of the hearth. The iron brush flew from her hand, clattering loudly against the floor.
Nila didn't scream. She didn't look up. She kept her gaze pinned to the gray ash on the floor, her breathing shallow as she pulled her knees tightly against her chest, making herself as small as humanly possible. She knew that boot. It belonged to Head Omega Martha, a woman who took personal delight in enforcing Alpha Richard’s decree.
"Get that soot cleaned up and start prepping the serving trays for the Great Hall," Martha spat, wiping her hands on her apron. "The guests are arriving within the hour. If the Up Pack Alpha smells your filth anywhere near the feast, I’ll let the enforcers use you for training matches again. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Martha," Nila whispered, her throat dry.
The woman kicked a bucket of dirty water, splashing Nila’s frayed tunic with cold, gray slop, before turning on her heel and shouting at another worker.
Nila waited until Martha’s heavy footsteps faded into the chaos of the kitchen before she moved. Every muscle in her body protested as she pushed herself up into a kneeling position. Her left shoulder throbbed where the boot had landed, a dull, deep ache that promised a massive bruise by tomorrow. She wiped the dirty water from her face with the back of her sleeve, leaving a dark streak across her cheek.
Today was her twentieth birthday.
In normal packs, a wolf’s twentieth birthday was a milestone—the year the adult wolf fully matured, the year many found their fated mates. For Nila, it was just twenty years of surviving a crime she had no memory of committing. Twenty years of carrying the blame for the death of Alpha Elena, a mother she had never known.
She reached for the iron brush and began to scrub again, her movements mechanical. Deep down, beneath the layers of exhaustion and fear, something shifted in her chest. A strange, restless heat flared beneath her skin, making her heart stutter. Her inner wolf, usually silent and buried deep under years of psychological suppression, gave a sudden, sharp tug against her consciousness. Nila gripped the brush tighter, trying to force the feeling down. She couldn't afford to let her wolf wake up. A strong wolf drew Richard’s anger. He monitored her development closely, ensuring she remained weak, untrained, and broken.
"Nila."
The soft whisper made Nila flinch. She turned her head slightly, keeping her chin low.
An older omega named Sarah was kneeling a few feet away, pretending to sort through a crate of root vegetables. Sarah was one of the few who had been alive when Elena ruled, and though she never dared to defend Nila openly, she occasionally left scraps of clean food near Nila’s sleeping mat in the cellars.
"You need to hide in the cellars once the feast starts," Sarah murmured, her hands moving quickly through the vegetables, her eyes darting toward the kitchen doors. "Alpha Richard is in a vile mood. The Up Pack Alpha didn't bring a standard delegation, he brought his elite vanguard. Richard feels threatened. He’s looking for any excuse to strike out."
"Martha ordered me to serve the Great Hall," Nila whispered back, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Sarah’s face paled. She looked at Nila, her eyes filling with a mixture of pity and terror. "Then keep your head down. Do not look the Up Pack Alpha in the eye. They say he is a lethal monster. He doesn't take prisoners, and he has no mercy for weak packs."
"I don't look anyone in the eye, Sarah," Nila said softly.
"Just... be careful, child," Sarah whispered, grabbing her basket and rushing away as an enforcer walked through the kitchen doors.
An hour later, the heavy brass horns echoed through the stone walls of the packhouse, signaling the arrival of the guests. The sound vibrated through Nila’s teeth.
Martha threw a clean apron at Nila’s head, catching her in the face. "Clean your hands and grab the wine silver. Move!"
Nila washed her hands in the cold rinsing bucket, her skin raw and chapped. She tied the stained apron over her torn tunic, taking a deep, steadying breath. She practiced her mask. The blank, hollow expression she wore to survive. Eyes on the floor. Shoulders slumped. Stoop slightly to look shorter, weaker, less noticeable.
She picked up the heavy silver tray laden with crystal decanters of blood-wine. The weight strained her bruised shoulder, but she locked her jaw and walked through the double doors leading into the Great Hall.
The atmosphere in the hall was suffocating. The scent of ozone, leather, and raw dominance filled the air, so thick it made Nila’s stomach churn. On the raised dais at the front of the room sat Alpha Richard, his posture rigid, his fingers gripping the arms of his wooden throne. His eyes were bloodshot, tracking every movement of the men entering his hall.
Nila kept her gaze glued to the stone floor, navigating through the crowds of roaring, laughing warriors. She moved like a ghost, filling cups before they could empty, slipping between the bodies without making a sound.
Then, the heavy oak main doors of the Great Hall swung open.
The laughter in the room died instantly. The only sound left was the crackle of the great roaring hearth fires.
Nila paused near a pillar, her head bowed, but her senses suddenly went into overdrive. The air in the room changed. The suffocating pressure of her father’s aura was completely obliterated by a sudden, massive wave of power that swept through the hall like a physical gale. It smelled of dark winter forests, crushed pine needles, and a cold iron.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed on the stone floor.
Nila’s breath caught in her throat. Deep inside her, the restless heat she had felt earlier flared into a scorching, blinding wildfire. Her inner wolf slammed against her ribcage, howling, clawing to get to the surface. The intensity of the reaction made Nila gasp, her hands trembling violently against the silver tray. The crystal decanters rattled against each other, a sharp, ringing sound that felt dangerously loud in the dead silence of the hall.
"Mate."
The word didn't come from her mind as it was expected. It echoed from the very core of her soul, a primal, undeniable truth that shattered twenty years of conditioning.
Nila panicked. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the tray until her knuckles turned bloodless, fighting her own body to keep from looking up. 'No, no, no,' she pleaded internally. A mate meant exposure. A mate meant Richard would use her as a bargaining chip, or worse, destroy the man who claimed her out of spite.
The heavy footsteps stopped in the center of the hall.
"Alpha Kaelen," Richard’s voice rang out, tight and forced, lacking any real warmth. "Welcome to the Down Pack."
Nila took a slow step backward, trying to melt into the shadows of the stone pillar. But as she moved, the dominant scent of pine and iron shifted, sharpening instantly.
A low, deep rumble vibrated through the air. A sound commanding sound that made every wolf in the room instinctually drop their shoulders.
Nila felt the gaze before she saw it. A heavy, burning pressure locked onto her, pinning her to the spot. The security of her invisibility vanished in a single breath. The Alpha of the Up Pack wasn't looking at Richard. He wasn't looking at the elders or the elite vanguard.
He was looking directly into the shadows. At her.