The clang of pots echoed through the pack house kitchen, sharp and unforgiving against Abigail's ears. She bent lower, her hands raw and red from scrubbing the blackened pans. The other omegas laughed in the corner, tossing scraps of bread between themselves, not offering her a single glance. It had always been this way Abigail was the ghost in their midst.
The scent of roasted meat drifted from the dining hall beyond, and her stomach twisted painfully. She hadn't eaten since dawn, yet she dared not steal even a crumb. If she was caught, she would be punished. Again. Hunger was a companion she had learned to carry like a scar.
"Faster, Abigail," barked one of the older omegas, shoving another dirty pot at her. "The Alpha's family eats tonight. Don't keep them waiting."
Abigail swallowed her bitterness, murmuring a quiet yes, and pushed the pot into the basin. Her arms ached, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. In the pack hierarchy, omegas were the lowest. An orphan omega? Lower than dirt.
From the hall, the sound of laughter rang out. Families eating together. Mothers guiding little hands. Fathers telling stories of hunts and battles. Abigail closed her eyes for a moment, pretending she could hear her own parents' voices. But she couldn't remember them. They had died when she was a baby, leaving her with nothing but scraps of second-hand memories whispered by others.
The door creaked, and the scent of dominance flooded the room. Abigail stiffened. She didn't need to look to know who had entered. Steve, the Alpha. His presence filled the small kitchen, heavy as stone pressing down on her shoulders.
She dared not lift her head. Omegas weren't supposed to look directly at their Alpha unless commanded.
But she could feel his eyes on her. Sharp. Cold. Assessing.
"She's still here?" The words were spoken low, to no one in particular, but they cut through her like a blade. "This omega should be replaced. She's too slow."
A ripple of laughter came from the others. Abigail's chest tightened. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing her tears back. Crying only made it worse.
"Yes, Alpha," one of the omegas said quickly. "We'll deal with her."
Steve grunted, uninterested, and turned to leave. But for the briefest moment just before he disappeared through the door Abigail thought she saw his gaze flicker back toward her. Not with warmth. Not with kindness. Something else. Something she couldn't name.
Then he was gone, and she was left alone with the echo of his voice, the sting of her hunger, and the silent ache in her chest.
Abigail dropped her head lower, whispering to herself, Someday… someday, I'll be more than this.