After My Alpha Sold Me to Another Pack

The servants' quarters smelled like mildew and despair. I slept on stone that leached the warmth from my bones, curled around myself like the animal they'd made me. The collar chafed my neck raw. Every morning, I woke to the taste of iron and shame.

My duties started before dawn. Scrubbing floors in the Alpha suite—my old rooms, where I'd once woken in silk sheets with Greyson's arms around me. Now I crawled on hands and knees, brush in hand, while Camille watched from the bed we used to share.

"You missed a spot," she said, pointing with one delicate finger. Her belly curved beneath a silk nightgown, round and perfect. The scent that rolled off her was thick and cloying—vanilla and something else, something that made every wolf in the pack go soft and protective around her.

I scrubbed harder. The water in my bucket had gone cold an hour ago.

Camille stretched like a cat, one hand resting on her stomach. "Greyson says the pup kicked last night. Can you imagine? Our child, growing strong."

I said nothing. Speaking without permission meant punishment.

She rose from the bed, moving with deliberate grace. Her foot caught the edge of my bucket. Water and dirty suds flooded across the floor I'd just cleaned.

"Oh," she said, her voice dripping false concern. "How clumsy of me. You'll need to start over."

This happened every day. Sometimes it was wine. Sometimes dirt tracked in from the garden. Always something to make me do it again, to keep me on my knees where she wanted me.

The pack treated me like I was invisible. Or worse—like I was something to be avoided, a curse that might spread if they got too close. They spat when I passed. Mothers pulled their children away. Warriors who'd once taken orders from me now looked through me like I was glass.

Only Camille saw me. And she never looked away.

A week into my servitude, I found myself alone in the kitchen after midnight. My hands shook as I reached for a piece of bread from the counter. I hadn't eaten in two days. The collar made it hard to swallow, but I had to try.

"Stealing now?"

I spun. Camille stood in the doorway, backlit by the hall light. Without the crowd, without Greyson, her smile was different. Sharper.

"That's not a real pregnancy," I said. The words came out before I could stop them.

Her laugh was soft and terrible. "No. It's not."

The admission hit me like a fist. "How—"

"A scent charm. Very expensive. Very convincing." She moved closer, circling me like prey. "Dr. Thorne helps with the rest. Monthly check-ups that say exactly what Greyson needs to hear. It's amazing what people will believe when they want to."

"He'll find out."

"Will he?" She tilted her head. "Who's going to tell him? You? The mad rogue who tried to kill me?" She pulled something from her pocket. A syringe. The liquid inside glowed faint purple in the dim light. "We can't have you getting any ideas. Can't have you shifting or linking with anyone who might listen."

I backed away. My spine hit the counter. "Camille, please—"

"You took everything from me." Her voice went cold. "You took my place. My mate. My life. And you were so good at it, weren't you? Perfect little Luna, so devoted, so pure." She grabbed my arm with strength that shouldn't have been possible. "Now it's my turn."

The needle pierced my neck. Liquid fire poured into my veins.

I screamed. My body convulsed, muscles seizing as the wolfsbane spread through my system. It felt like being burned from the inside out, like every cell was dying and being reborn in agony. I hit the floor, thrashing, while Camille stood over me and smiled.

"That should keep you weak for a while," she said. "Sweet dreams, sister."

The days blurred after that. Camille's performance grew more elaborate. She stumbled in the hallways, pressing her hands to her eyes. She knocked over a vase and claimed she couldn't see it. She wept in Greyson's arms about the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.

"It's a curse," she sobbed during dinner, her voice carrying through the dining hall. "That rogue brought it with her. I can feel it, Greyson. I'm going blind."

The pack murmured. Eyes turned to me where I stood against the wall, waiting to clear plates.

Greyson's jaw tightened. "We'll fix this."

Two days later, I was summoned to his office.

He sat behind his desk, every inch the Alpha. The man who'd once held me through nightmares was gone. This was someone else wearing his face.

"The Summit is in three weeks," he said without preamble. "After it concludes, Dr. Thorne will perform a procedure."

I waited. Speaking felt dangerous.

"You brought this curse into my pack. You're poisoning my mate, threatening my unborn child." His eyes were flat. Empty. "So you'll pay the price. Your corneas will be removed and transplanted to Camille. It's the only way to save her sight."

The words didn't make sense at first. Then they did, and the world tilted.

"You're going to blind me."

"You did this to yourself." He stood, moving to the window. "Be grateful I'm letting you live at all."

I touched my neck where the collar sat. Where his mark used to be. "I never cursed her."

"Three weeks," he said. "Don't make me move up the timeline."

I stumbled back to the servants' quarters in a daze. Three weeks until they took my eyes. Three weeks until there was nothing left of me at all.

I pressed my hands to my face, feeling the shape of my eyes beneath my palms. Soon, there would only be darkness. Soon, I would be truly nothing.

And Camille would watch it happen with that smile on her face.