Later that night, I retired to the bedroom under Miss Naomi's guidance.
I cried myself to sleep.
My back still throbbed faintly, but the ache was bearable compared to the sharper pain stabbing through my chest. I had led myself into this trap, foolishly. I should have listened to Sable. Or even Gideon, who had offered to help me secure a job in the Pack house through his connections. I should have known my cursed luck would never allow me to escape this hellhole. It not only lured me back—it dragged me into an even worse one.
Even though the Luna had spared my life, I knew I still had duties to perform for her—and something told me they would not be simple ones. For her to spare an Omega who dared to disguise herself as an Elite and sleep with her husband, the Alpha, the task she was planning would be far worse than anything I had endured. Something that would make me regret surviving.
I wiped my tears and tried to brace myself. I had walked willingly into this trap. Now, I had to be ready to pay the price.
The following morning, Miss Naomi entered the room with five other servants, all dressed alike in white pinafores over pink gowns. Their heads bowed low, avoiding eye contact as they lined up before me.
For a fleeting second, it felt like living the life of an Alpha's daughter. But I quickly reminded myself—the cruel Luna controlled my life, and I had no reason to be excited.
They led me into the bathroom, dipping me into the bathtub and washing me with soaps of different fragrances, body washes of every color. The bath was smoother, more delicate, than the one I had before giving up my virginity to the Alpha.
They worked carefully, treating my hair as well. One of the girls even smiled sweetly at me, mouthing that I was very beautiful. I returned her warmth with a small smile, mouthing a thank you.
When they finished, they adorned my skin with fragrant oils and tried dress after dress until they finally settled on a light pink chiffon gown, mid-thigh length, with a small flair at the end. The straps were thin, the neckline modest, covering the entirety of my cleavage this time.
My gut told me the Luna had chosen it. And as if the universe confirmed my suspicion, the door burst open. The room fell silent. The servants froze, stepping away from me at the dressing mirror.
I looked up—and locked eyes with her. The Luna.
She looked flawless. Her black hair pulled into a sharp ponytail, her black mini dress clinging to her frame, probably worth more than everything I had ever owned in my life combined.
I quickly stood, joining the servants in bowing low.
"Leave," she commanded, her raspy voice carrying an edge sharp enough to slice through bone.
At once, the servants dropped everything and hurried out, heads still bowed.
The moment the door clicked shut, her gaze pinned me.
"I told those bitches not to put effort on you. How dare they glam you up like this?" she hissed, more to herself than to me.
She reached out again, lifting my chin with her manicured fingers, forcing my gaze to meet hers. Her electric green eyes cut into me.
"Maybe I should scar your face," she mused, "so you can't catch the Alpha's eyes."
"H-he doesn't like me," I blurted quickly. "He can't even stand me. He only lasted long that night because of the full moon."
It wasn't entirely true. Though I couldn't recall every detail of that night, I remembered the first round clearly—how he had stepped in, taken me, and whispered over and over how beautiful I was even as he slid in and out of me.
The memory sparked heat across my inner thighs. I clenched, forcing it away.
She jerked my face aside, the motion sharp, then began pacing the room. The sound of her heels filled the suffocating air.
"I smell your arousal."
My heart skipped.
Wait, what?
"Clearly, the memory of that night arouses you," she said coldly, settling onto the bed and staring me down. "Interesting."
"I asked the Alpha about it," she went on casually. "About the night he spent with you. Thankfully, I couldn't smell even a hint of arousal or attraction toward you from him. Which means he is over it. So… I'll spare you."
She crossed her legs, tapping her manicured fingers against the bed. "But the moment I smell even the faintest trace of attraction to you from him, I won't hesitate to end your miserable life that very day. Is that clear?"
I nodded quickly.
She rose, walking toward me, her hand pressing firmly against my shoulder.
"You're about to face the Alpha again in a few minutes," she warned. "Be good. Don't gamble with your life."
"Yes, Luna."
She patted my shoulder once, turned, and left the room.
The door clicked shut. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping, trying to gather myself.
That was torture in itself. Her very presence was torment—sharp eyes, poisonous green gaze, dark shadowed lids, long lashes, pointed nose, cupid's bow lips. She looked like a devil carved out of some twisted fantasy.
Ten minutes later, I was set. Ready to face what awaited me.
Miss Naomi returned to collect me.
She no longer smiled at me. No longer acknowledged me. The Luna must have told her something. I didn't care. That wasn't my priority. What mattered was what came next.
Facing the Alpha again.
Sealing my new title as his breeder.
From this moment on, I would not be allowed to see another man. No other man would be allowed to touch me. I would exist for the Alpha's pleasure alone.
Werewolf life was strict. Cruel. Twisted.
Miss Naomi led me into the elevator, which descended to the ground floor.
The Pack's great hall—Hall of Coast—was enormous. Ten times the size of the library I once worked in. Capable of holding at least a thousand.
But tonight, only a few were gathered. Six in total.
They sat at the far front, facing the Officiant in a tailored black suit who stood at the podium.
And then, there was him.
The Alpha.
He stood in black pants and a white t-shirt, his back turned to me, facing the podium.
My throat tightened. My palms went damp. My breath hitched. It wasn't just the fact we had been together—it was his very presence. It rattled me. It always did. And I had to find a way to smother that feeling, because the Luna was watching. My life was in her hands.
Miss Naomi guided me down the aisle. Step by step, the faces of those gathered became clearer. I recognized only Mr. Ronald. And the Luna.
The other four men were strangers, dressed in tailored suits. The Pack's committee, I presumed.
We stopped at the podium, right beside him.
He turned.
Our eyes locked. My heart flipped violently.
The first three buttons of his shirt were undone.
Suddenly, new memories surged—fragments of that night I hadn't recalled before.
Flashes of me riding him desperately. His mouth on mine, moaning my name in a voice that made my skin tremble. His hand molding my breast as if it belonged to him. Sharing alcohol between our mouths, the taste of him stronger than the drink.
And then, one memory sharpened—his voice. He had said something to me that night.
Something my mind was now fighting to remember.