Burning Wild

by Phoenyx Saint

Chapters 1-2: Indigo

Sometimes I dream. Dream of bigger and better places than this. Places where I can be free to live the life I’ve always wanted. To explore. To enjoy the world around me. Learn and touch. Feel. Breathe.

Orym, that sounds so good right now.

My eyes flutter closed, and my hand stills mid-swipe as the vision fills my mind.

Green. Bright and bold. Blue, cloudless skies. Water so pure you could bathe in it. Drink from it. Devour it. Wildlife chatters and coos all around me. I smile. They’re so free here. Free to exist as they want. To run and hunt with their families.

Their mates.

Clean, cool air consumes me as I inhale deeply. I hold on to it, capturing it in my lungs, refusing to release it until I’m gasping for more.

My lips part. My chest heaves. My eyes burn. And suddenly, I’m no longer in the beautiful place I’ve only ever imagined and dreamt of exploring, but I’m back in the gilded cage that holds me.

A ragged cough launches its way through my aching lungs, and despite how hard I try to keep it in, it escapes my lips. Loudly.

My eyes snap open, and panic replaces my blissful state. I search the spacious foyer for any sign of life or prying eyes, ready to report my crappy cleaning skills. Again. Luckily, I find myself alone.

Covering my mouth with the crook of my elbow, I succumb to the coughing fit my chest is aching for. When my lungs feel clearer, I’m doubled over, and my face is covered in hot tears.

My stomach aches as I push myself upright, but I ignore it the same way I ignore everything else. I wipe my face on the long sleeve of my black uniform, thankful that I’m not allowed to wear makeup. I grimace as I imagine the backlash of dirtying up something that doesn’t belong to me.

Yeah. That’s not a mistake I’ll ever make again.

"Andromeda," a voice hisses, making me jump. My eyes snap to the left as recognition washes over me. I grip the dusting spray and rag harder, preparing for the incoming battle. A battle I won’t win, no matter how badly I wish I could. "Answer me, Andromeda."

"Indie," I whisper under my breath. Rolling my shoulders, I reply softly. "Foyer, ma’am."

Swallowing thickly, I straighten my spine and continue cleaning the entry table as I wait. Heels click across the marble floor at a rapid pace. I try to tune them out, but I can’t. It’s impossible. Instead, I lift the golden glass orbs that serve as useless pieces of decor on the round entry table and dust beneath them quickly.

It’s only mid-morning, and the sun is brightly streaming through the grand floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s hot on my back, and a trickle of sweat works its way down my spine beneath the oppressive, baggy clothing I’m required to wear.

Black slacks, a size too big that are shapeless and thick, paired with a long-sleeve, black button-down that I’m pretty sure belongs to one of the boys instead of me. Black, shiny flats that dig into my toes and ankles leaving blisters nearly every day, complete the simple uniform.

The only saving grace is that my long, thick, dark hair is in a tight bun instead of covering me like a heated blanket.

The sound of her shoes grows louder, making her presence known. Even though I’ve yet to look up, I already know she’s nearly reached the bottom of the East Wing staircase, more than likely having left a meeting in the office just to yell at me. Crap.

Five, four, three…

My hands shake so hard that I miss a spot. It’s not noticeable. In fact, I’m positive that no one in this massive, opulent home would ever care to inspect my work after I’ve completed it, let alone take note of any missed dust particles on an otherwise pristine piece of furniture.

Well, no one except for me and—

"What is fucking wrong with you, girl?" She hisses. I swallow again and gently set the glass orb down, knowing it’ll be worse if anything winds up broken on my watch.

So much worse.

The second the gold ball touches the table, she’s on me. Long, sharp fingernails dig into my thin arm, yanking me from my work. The rag slips from my hand, but I hold on to the polish for dear life. If nothing else, it’s a weapon, right?

I scoff internally as she whips me around like a chew toy. I’d wind up dead if I dared to lash out. Even in self-defense. Especially against her.

Lilith Risna. The house manager and my supervisor.

She’s a beta, but she feels like an alpha. A fact she and everyone else in this godforsaken place knows. Most of the staff are terrified of her. Not just because of her position in the house–her authority and connection to the head of the household–but because of her alpha tendencies.

Betas are typically small in stature. Thin, short, weaker than most. Easy to control and pray on. Easy to dominate.

Like me.

Like Lilith should be.

But looking at her now, she’s anything but weak.

My emerald eyes barely meet her large chest, a place I’m not particularly eager to stare at, but I don’t dare look up. To do so would be an act of defiance. A punishable one–and I’m not in the mood right now.

I also don’t look down like I should. The small rebellion is all I have in this massive house.

Prison, my brain corrects. It’s a prison, Indie. Besides… you’re not alone.

I shut that line of thinking down immediately. It does me no good.

"Why in Orym’s name are you making all that racket?" She snarls as though I’ve purposefully wished to be sick. She grunts, squeezing my fabric-covered arm harshly. The pain is intense, but I don’t give in to my desire to flinch. I’d never give her that.

Biting my lip, I debate my options. She’s asking me but doesn’t care about the answer. In fact, I’m betting this is all a test. I’ll be punished for speaking out of turn if I respond now. If I don’t, I’ll be punished for ignoring a direct question from my superior.

"Answer me, child," she demands, shaking me roughly.

Child. As though I’m not a nineteen-year-old adult who’s barely ten years her junior. Lilith isn’t even thirty, yet somehow, she’s achieved a position as head of staff for the infamous Idris Savas, a man scarier than anyone I’ve ever met.

Cold. Callus. Calculating.

It’s no wonder they get along so well.

She grips me harder; I can’t fight the pain this time. A whimper leaves my lips, and I give up the internal debate, granting her what she wants.

"I’m sorry, ma’am." I’m not . "I didn’t mean to be loud." I’m just sick and exhausted, no thanks to you. "I’m nearly done with the foyer. Then I’ll be out of the way." As if I could ever be in the way. I’m so small, I’m practically invisible.

Time moves slowly, and with every second that passes, my anxiety grows until I’m nothing but a shaking pile of bones beneath her oppressive shadow. Lilith inhales sharply, a movement I catch clearly with my eyes locked on her massive chest.

Betas don’t have big boobs. I should know.

I internally roll my eyes. Like that matters. No one wants to touch my boobs, anyway.

Fuck, Indie. Stop thinking about boobs.

A low, slow chuckle leaves her inflated lips. Her breath fans across my forehead, and instinctually, I look up. It’s a mistake. I knew it before I consciously did so, but it’s too late.

Her angular features are difficult to look at, much like an alpha’s. They’re gorgeous in a way that’s painful to us lower designations. Her jaw is sharp, her cheekbones defined. She really shouldn’t look the way she does. We all know it, but no one dares speak the truth into existence.

Lilith takes enhancement drugs. She must. There’s no other way.

Enhancement drugs increase an alpha’s dominance. Their muscles grow infinitely more prominent than they’d naturally become. They’re quick to snap, aggressive, and terrifying. Their barks are almost impossible to ignore.

They’re also highly illegal and forbidden in most territories, including ours.

If she’d actually been born into a body that would have eventually presented as an alpha, she’d probably have more good tendencies, to go with the bad. A stronger, deeper purr. An unnaturally heightened need to protect others.

But Lilith isn’t an alpha.

And she has no favorable qualities.

Something she further proves with her rough palm as it collides with my much smaller cheek. My head whips to the side, but her tight grip on my arm keeps me in place. Her fingernails dig into my skin so hard I know she’s leaving marks on my flesh, even through the long shirt. A whimper escapes me, and my eyes immediately sting with the familiar burn of tears, but I blink them away.

"You are nothing but a problem. An annoyance," she hisses, yanking me into her body and making me stumble. "You don’t deserve this life."

She’s not wrong. I don’t deserve this life. In fact, I’d give it up in a heartbeat.

She towers over me, a severe look plastered across her face as she spits her vitriol. Lilith isn’t nearly as tall as an alpha. Height isn’t something enhancers can change. But with her six-inch heels and my five-foot stature, I feel like a kitten next to a rottweiler.

My chest collides with her stomach, and try as I might, I’m unable to look away from the angry expression on her heavily made-up face.

"Nothing but trash. An inconvenience. He should never have allowed you to stay here." I swallow thickly, her words hitting their intended mark, and she grins triumphantly, knowing she’s winning. Maybe not always, but definitely at this moment.

The fact of the matter is, once again, she’s not wrong. I don’t belong here. Never have.

Not that it’s ever been my choice.

Choking those words down, I nod once. "You’re right, ma’am." She’s not, though it’s getting harder and harder to believe it every day. "I apologize for being loud." I swallow the bile creeping up my throat as bone-deep fear makes me shake harder. "If I could just get to work, I’ll finish up and head back to the service quarters."

I hate how weak my voice is. How broken.

“Ma’am,” a voice calls, making my heart jump, but I don’t dare look at the newcomer.

Lilith does though, her head snapping to the side, a glare already plastered to her evil face. “What do you want?” she hisses.

The woman clears her throat before she speaks. Her voice is thick, raspy and familiar. Inside, I smile, knowing who sent Marcella. The reminder that I’m not alone spurs me on, keeping me strong in the face of Lilith’s torture.

“I came to discuss the shopping lists,” Marcella says softly, but sternly, her accent flowing thickly from her lips. “We need supplies if we are to make dinner.”

Lilith tightens her grip on me, completely uncaring that the kitchen manager is currently watching her little performance. “Go back to the service quarters,” she grits out. “I’ll speak to you when I’m ready and not a second before. Do I make myself clear?”

I can almost picture Marcella narrowing her eyes, her fists clenching at her sides as she fights to restrain herself. My inner- smile peaks out, making my lip twitch as my eyes slide to the camera in the upper corner of the room, where it grows to a full blown grin.

“ Thank you ,” I mouth.

“B-but–” Marcella stutters before she’s cut off.

“Enough,” Lilith grits out. “You’ll be punished for your insolence. Go. ”

I swear I hear Marcella whisper, I’m sorry , before disappearing the way she came.

“That fucking woman’s always putting her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Lilith mutters, turning her attention back to me.

I swallow, knowing I should bite my tongue, but I can’t. Marcella stood up for me, she deserves the same. “She’s a wonderful woman,” I whisper. “She cares for the people here.”

Lilith scoffs, tearing her eyes from mine. They narrow at the wooden table I’d been cleaning when she arrived. Keeping a tight grip on my upper arm, bruising the already irritated flesh and muscles, Lilith leans forward and runs her finger over the surface, right through the dusty spot I missed.

Clicking her tongue, she lets out a sound that’s a mix between a sigh and a chuckle. She takes pleasure in this. Manhandling those of us smaller than her. Beneath her in size or rank.

Just like Idris does.

He’s trained her well.

"Not only are you undeserving of such a lavish life as this one, but it seems you’re also unable to earn your keep, you selfish, greedy brat."

Before I realize what’s happening, Lilith whips me around to face the table. Like a naughty dog who’s peed on the rug, she grips the back of my neck and shoves my face into the dirty spot. A pathetically broken sound slips between my gritted teeth as she smashes my skin into the unforgiving wood.

"How would Mr. Savas feel about this, hmm?" She murmurs, her lips ghosting over my ear. "Knowing his charity case is taking advantage of his kindness by fucking around when she should be working."

She presses against me even harder, and an already painful spot on my hips digs against the harsh table, making me cry out.

"Shut up," she snaps, her voice just shy of an alpha bark.

My body goes limp against my will, and my hands slip to my sides, no longer holding me up in a failed effort to protect myself. Her knees collide with the back of my own, and my feet slip against the smooth marble floors. She chuckles darkly, getting off on exerting power over me.

Like a train wreck, the next moment happens in slow motion. The table teeters under our combined weight, her much larger body blanketing mine as she holds me in a position of utter submission. My face grates against the wood grain as I slide to my knees. In a last-ditch effort to keep the table and myself upright, my hands flail, catching on to the three precious golden orbs next to the massive floral arrangement.

The decor goes tumbling from the off-balance table, and with Lilith at my back, I’m not able to do a damn thing to stop it. It’s not until all three of the glass balls are shattered at my feet, and the vase is toppled over, water and flowers spilled everywhere, that she finally releases me with a satisfied breath.

Without Lilith at my back, I fall roughly to my hands and knees, glass and water penetrating my skin instantly.

Just in time for his voice to fill the already suffocating air.

Fuck.

“Who is making all that goddamned noise?” Idris bellows, his voice ricocheting throughout the massively open space as his heavy feet pound down the stairs, quickly followed by a few other sets. Four, if I’d have to guess.

Sadness and fear consume me, overshadowing any pain from the assault, and I let my head drop, hanging heavily. There’s no point in getting up and pretending nothing happened—the evidence is literally all around me.

I can’t tell them what really happened, not that Idris would give a damn. In fact, I think he’d laugh at my predicament and give Lilith a well-deserved pat on the back for keeping the staff in line.

The boys, however…

They might care.

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. No. They would— will —care. But it doesn’t matter. They won’t do anything to help me.

They can’t.

And despite the situation surrounding me, I wouldn’t ask them to. I wouldn’t dare. Never again. Not when the stakes are so high.

All our hands are tied, each of us being suspended like puppets, unable to break free from our binds, just the way Idris wants it.

Dropping back onto my haunches, I let my hands fall to my knees, keeping my head bowed in submission. It’s not something required of me, but after all my years living here, I’ve learned a thing or two. One of them is that nothing makes Idris Savas happier than being the biggest alpha in every room.

Lilith may be a bully, picking away at stray ants who dare to crawl into her space without permission, but Idris is an exterminator. He demolishes those smaller than himself with a smile on his crooked face, then dances on their prone, dead bodies.

He’s the Devil, I’m sure of it.

I feel Lilith slowly, silently move away from me, and even with my eyes on the floor, I can vividly imagine the baffled look on her face. It hurts and angers me in equal measure.

“I have no idea what happened, sir,” she simpers, feigning shock. “She was having one of her fits, and I ran to check on her, but she’d already fallen.”

Before I can contain it, a scoff spills from my mouth, filling the oppressively tense air. The room goes dead silent, and I swear, no one breathes. Without looking, I sense the men behind my back go eerily still.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The organ in my chest hammers so hard my ribs ache. My palms grow slick against my rough, thick pants, and my breaths begin to saw in and out of me. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my cheek, focusing on the pain and keeping every other outward reaction hidden.

I can fall apart later when I’m alone.

Heavy footsteps make their way across the shiny marble, and the slow, methodical gait lets me know exactly who’s closing in on me.

I squeeze my eyes tighter just as a quiet male voice whispers in a pained rasp, “Oh, fuck no.” Malachi.

I wish he’d say more. I wish any of them would. I know they can’t intervene, and that my fate is sealed, but I wish I had something to hold on to. To distract me. Something like one of their warm, soothing voices that, more often than not, coat me like a weighted blanket.

They remain silent, but their slight pheromones increase with every step Idris takes toward me, and I cling to their scents, willing them to do their job and soothe me.

Except it doesn’t work because overpowering their faint scents is the oppressive tobacco and charred meat smell I loathe. It’s so strong it lodges in my already irritated lungs, making my eyes water.

“What do we have here?” Idris coos, his polished leather shoes halting right behind me. I don’t need to see them to know they’re so shiny; I could use them as a mirror. I’m the one who polished them last night before bed, just like I do every single night. “What have you done, Andromeda?”

His voice is soft, almost soothing.

It’s a lie.

Something I’ve learned from first-hand experience over the years.

Unlike with Lilith, there is no choice in whether or not I can ignore his questions. I may be destined to be nothing more than a beta, but I’m still susceptible to an alpha’s bark. Their will. Their demand.

Omegas are notoriously defenseless to an alpha’s bark. It’s nearly impossible for them to deny one’s orders, or so I’ve been told. Betas have a bit more resolve to work through the bark, especially a weaker one.

Unfortunately, when it comes to Idris Savas, the head of the Savas Cartel and my pseudo-stepfather, no one is immune.

He’s an Alpha Supreme.

More than that—he holds my very existence in his palms, as well as those I love. I can’t ignore him.

So, with that in mind, I grit my teeth, dig my nails into my thighs and apologize. “I’m sorry for my clumsiness, sir. It’s my mistake.”

He tuts me. “Yes,” he breathes, placing his large, hot hand on the top of my head. I fight a cringe as his sweat penetrates through my hair. It takes tremendous concentration to choke back a gag, but I do so, willing my body to remain still. “Quite the mistake it was.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, not knowing what else to say. There’s nothing else to say. “I’ll clean it up, sir.” As soon as you all leave because I’ll be damned if I move an inch while I’m being watched like an animal.

It makes me feel like I’m in one of those zoos I’ve read about in Koen’s history books. I’ve always thought them strange. It’s borderline abusive behavior to trap creatures meant to exist freely and put them on display for humans to enjoy gawking at.

In this house, at this moment, I completely sympathize with the poor animals, and it makes me thankful zoos no longer exist.

I hate being on display.

Idris’ fingers dig into my scalp, tugging roughly on my tight bun before his hand falls away. I hear another sharp inhale, but no one moves or speaks up. No one comes to my rescue. There will be no white knights here today.

There never are.

Lies, my brain shouts. They would rescue you if they could, and you know it.

Again…I push that line of thinking deep down into the dark recesses of my brain. It’s no use.

Idris’ weighted steps move in a slow circle around my hunched body, crunching on broken shards of glass with every daunting footfall, turning them into sharp confetti.

He stops in front of my body, and his hand appears once more, gripping my chin. It’s soft at first, but my instincts know better. Something primal deep down inside of me is achingly aware that this man… this alpha, is a predator, and I his prey.

Idris tips my chin up, and despite the voice screaming inside my head to run, I allow him to force my head back. My eyes remain closed, fighting with every terrified nerve ending in my body to save this one last thing for myself.

I should have known better.

“Look at me,” he barks. Before his voice has even truly reached my mind, my eyes are springing open against my will with a force that leaves me dizzy.

Black eyes peer down at me with a coldness that has my sweaty spine tingling and my aching knees trembling. There’s so much dominance in his gaze I find myself sinking deeper and deeper into myself, yet my body remains frozen in his grasp. In his web.

Predator.

Idris Savas isn’t a bad-looking man. Well into his fifties, he’s on the older end of the scale for being such a powerful and influential alpha in our territory. Typically, dominance and stature wane with age, but for Idris, it’s only grown. He’s known in Anddad. Respected. Feared.

He’s also adored. Coveted. Lusted after.

Bile fills my throat as I think of all the women and men who have literally thrown themselves at him over the years—my mother being one of them. From a physical aspect, I can understand the appeal.

Idris is over six feet tall and well-built. He takes care of his appearance almost obsessively. As though he knows it’s what draws people into his trap before they’re even aware whose presence they’re in.

Much like Lilith, his jaw and cheekbones are severe, as is his pronounced nose. His face is covered in a long, thick silver beard. It matches the shoulder-length, wavy silver and black hair that sits in a knot at his neck. As always, he’s dressed sharply—his clothes, much like his appearance, are a facade, a trick.

A lie.

This alpha may look distinguished and intelligent, but he’s nothing more than a monster in disguise seeking his next victim. And his sights are on me.

He cocks his sculpted face to the side and licks his lifeless lips as he takes me in on my knees before him. There’s no rush or worry about who’s watching this all go down silently from a few feet away or who could arrive any minute, interrupting us.

If anything, I think he enjoys the audience.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, a sick gleam reflected in his blackened eyes. My heart kicks up a notch, verging from erratic to downright dangerous speeds.

Say what?

My brain races, seeking the correct answer. My brows furrow as I take my best guess. “I’ll clean it up?” It comes out as a whispered question, and I hate it. I hate how weak and terrified I sound, but I can’t help it. This man has a hold on me, physically and mentally. I’m stuck.

His lip twitches and his eyes somehow shine in a victory I don’t understand. His nod is slow. Measured. Like he’s drawing something out. Something I can’t grasp.

“Yes,” he purrs. “You will.”

Obviously .

“Fucking hell,” is sighed from somewhere to my left. “Leave the girl alone, Idris. We have things to do.” A pause before he clicks his tongue. “The meeting’s in five minutes.”

My stomach clenches, knowing that one statement just made things inevitably worse for me. If there’s anything Idris hates more than being looked down on, it’s being second-guessed or challenged. It’s one of the many reasons he’s refused to create any bonds or a pack. Why he despises omegas and only employs betas.

The only alphas Idris associates with are his sons and second in command, and only because they’re significantly less dominant than him.

Though, something in my gut tells me that won’t always be the case. I dismiss it, like always, knowing it’s just a dream.

Idris doesn’t even look at his second when he addresses him, refusing to pull his terrifying gaze from mine.

“Is that so, Luciano?” He says slowly, if for no other reason than to piss the man off. “I guess I better get to the point, no?” His grin is wide as he steps away, letting his hand drop from my face so abruptly I fall forward. He nods once, glancing at the glass surrounding me. “Clean it up then, girl, and be quick. Apparently, I’ve got things to do.” A bark.

Of course.

My body burns with the heat of his words. They penetrate my blood vessels, whooshing through me like the very blood that keeps my racing heart beating in my chest. They become me, and I them until nothing else exists.

I try to resist, even for a second, but it feels like my bones will snap if I don’t obey the command.

My flaming skin itches, knowing that so many eyes are upon me as I’m degraded before them. Everything inside me aches to cry out. To scream about the injustice of this. Of my life. To beg my mother to save me—to pull me from this hell she forced me into after we’d already lived through a different kind.

But I can’t do that.

I can’t scream. I can’t cry. I can’t beg my mother for help. I can’t do anything but nod and bend to his will.

“Father,” Malachi rasps. I can hear the pain in his voice. The way this is bothering him so deeply. It soothes something in my chest. “Please don’t hurt her,” he begs weakly, somehow suppressing his instincts. “Stop this. It’s too—”

“Enough,” Idris bellows, his head snapping to the men out of view. “Do not subject yourself to such pathetic behavior as to beg before me.”

“But,” Cai tries again. My arms shake with the force of holding on as I will myself to fight Idris’ command now that he’s distracted. It’s so painful that my teeth chatter.

“Shut your mouth,” he barks loudly.

Someone sucks in a breath, and Cai’s jaw audibly snaps shut. It sounds like it hurts, and I internally cringe, even as my own jaw grinds to obey.

“You will watch, and then you will be punished,” Idris continues, chastising his youngest son. My soul aches for Cai. He’s such a sweetheart. So kind and good. It’s rare these days.

And if things don’t change, he’ll become a shell of himself under his father’s oppressive hand.

Idris huffs an exasperated breath and shifts toward me. His foot kicks out, sliding a large shard of the golden orb toward me, water from the vase accelerating its trajectory. It collides with my wrist, scraping along the sliver of exposed flesh. “Do as I said or suffer the consequences.”

I know what the consequences are, and I refuse to allow them to happen. Not again.

“Yes, sir,” I grit out, the words spilling from my dry, cracked lips without my permission. I move to stand, needing to gather the supplies to clean the mess like I need air to breathe.

I’ve barely moved an inch before he’s on me again. “No,” he barks. The one word is so loud and harsh that I cower and whimper in submission. “With your hands, Andromeda. You destroyed my property with your clumsy, unsightly body, and you will fix your mistake the same way.”

Something that feels a hell of a lot like a whine builds in my throat, but I swallow it down, meeting his eyes. “Sir?” I can hear the tears in my voice, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I can’t even move to wipe them away.

A menacing growl sounds from the group of men still out of eyesight, but I already know who it’s from. Warmth blossoms in my chest, colliding with the fear and sadness, temporarily drowning it out.

“Enough, Father,” Calix snaps. “Leave her alone. She did nothing wrong, and you know it.”

Idris laughs, a deep, booming sound that makes me jump. My palms land on a small shard of glass, and I whimper. Idris glances down at me and holds his hand out. “Wait, girl.” I freeze.

He’s fucking with me.

Turning to his eldest son, his successor, my friend, Idris grins. “If you cannot stomach some punishment, perhaps you are undeserving of my position when the time comes.”

I keep my eyes locked on Idris, refusing to turn my gaze toward the other men. The men whose broken, pitying eyes will no doubt break my will to breathe, let alone get through this. When Calix doesn’t respond, his father turns his head slightly, his cold, calculating gleam locking on someone else.

“And you, boy?” He sneers. “Will you take your brother’s place should he fail to lead like a true king?”

King? This man is utterly delusional. He’s a gangster at best. A demon at worst.

Malachi doesn’t skip a beat before his scoff fills the tense air, his previous reprimand already forgotten. Must be nice. “We all know you’re too stubborn to die, Father. There’s no point planning your succession.”

My lip nearly twitches at that. The statement—the deflection—is so very Cai that it further warms my insides.

Two down. One to go.

Let me hear you, big guy.

Idris chuckles, nodding in approval, though I’ve no doubt he’s faking it. I don’t believe for a second the man has it in him to truly find humor in anything. He turns his body slightly, his eyes flicking to someone I can’t see but know without a shadow of a doubt is glaring right back at him.

I can just picture his thick black beard shifting as his jaw clenches. His beautiful honeyed eyes would be narrowed with the force of holding himself back.

The two alphas stare at each other in a silent battle of wills. Of dominance. We all know who will win, but the fight is just as important. Just as telling.

“Be done with this,” he rumbles, his deep voice like a hot bath, soothing my aching muscles after a long day. Alastor. “We all know what happened here, and it wasn’t Indie’s—” he breaks off with a rough growl, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with fear or chills. “ Andromeda’s fault,” he corrects, sounding incredibly irritated by my first name. Internally, it makes me smile. “It was her,” Alastor spits.

Lilith gasps, gaining my attention. Her hand is on her chest, indignation written all over her annoying face. “How dare you a—”

“Shut up.” Idris releases a growl in response to their debate, and for a moment, I worry this will turn into a full-blown challenge here and now. But Idris quickly squashes it, giving them both his back and dismissal, all in one fell swoop. He turns back to me and juts his chin out.

“Clean it up. Now.”

The bark in his voice has my back bowing and my body snapping to attention in seconds.

This.

This is what my life here will consist of from now until I die. There is no escape. There are no white knights or fairytale endings. There is no happily ever after.

There’s just me. A child of a widowed beta mother and a long-gone alpha father who will never amount to anything more than I am at this moment.

A servant. A pawn. A toy.

Nothing.

My hands burn. My knees sting. My skin throbs and rips. Every particle and shard of glass finds a way to dig into my flesh. The powdery pieces from the weight of Idris’s shoes are even worse. They burrow into my sensitive, thin skin and beneath my fingernails.

It hurts.

But the pain is nothing compared to the way I ache on the inside.