My Alpha Abused Me Until the Lycan Prince Claimed Me

I couldn't hide in the kitchen forever. The warm steam from the pots provided temporary comfort, but I knew he would find me eventually. My hands trembled as I wiped them on the rough apron tied around my waist, the scent of onions burning my eyes—or maybe that was just the tears I refused to shed.

"There you are." Maxwell's voice sliced through the clattering pans and bustling cooks. "I've been looking for you."

I turned slowly, keeping my eyes downcast as he approached. The kitchen staff immediately scattered, leaving us alone in the corner. My swollen eyes must have been obvious, but I hoped he wouldn't notice—or care.

"Your eyes are red," he observed coldly, stepping closer. "Have you been crying?"

"No, Alpha," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just the onions."

He reached out, gripping my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look up. "Don't lie to me. I can smell the salt on your skin."

I remained silent, knowing anything I said would only make things worse.

"The Wheeler delegation arrives at sundown," he continued, releasing me with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "You will serve wine at the ceremony tonight."

My heart stuttered painfully. "Alpha, I—"

"You will watch carefully," he interrupted, his voice taking on a sadistic edge. "Pay attention to how Zendaya carries herself. Learn what a real Luna looks like."

Each word was a dagger twisting deeper into my chest. "I don't think I can—"

"You can and you will," he snapped. His eyes flashed amber as he unleashed his Alpha tone. "You will serve at the ceremony, or I will cast you out as a Rogue by dawn."

The command settled over me like a physical weight, making my knees buckle. "Yes, Alpha," I whispered, hating how my voice trembled.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Remember your place, Hannah. You are nothing but a convenient body to warm my bed until my true Luna arrives."

* * *

The grand hall glittered with silver and blue decorations, candles casting a warm glow over the gathered pack members. I moved silently through the crowd, balancing a tray of crystal wine glasses, the servant's uniform Maxwell had chosen for me scratching uncomfortably against my skin.

My eyes darted nervously toward the entrance, where a commotion had broken out. The Wheeler Pack delegation had arrived.

"Make way for the Wheeler Alpha and his daughter!" someone called out.

I froze as Zendaya entered, her presence commanding immediate attention. She was stunning—tall and regal with glossy black hair cascading down her back in perfect waves. Her silver gown shimmered with each step, and her chin tilted upward in practiced arrogance.

Behind her walked several high-ranking wolves, their auras pulsing with power. I recognized Adam's father immediately, though I'd never seen him in person before. The resemblance to Adam was striking—the same strong jaw and piercing eyes, though older and harder.

I kept my head down, focusing on not spilling the wine as I moved through the crowd. But as I approached the front of the hall, Zendaya suddenly stiffened, her nostrils flaring.

"Wait," she commanded, her voice carrying across the room. "What is that scent?"

All eyes turned to me as I froze in place, the tray trembling in my hands.

Zendaya's gaze locked onto mine, recognition dawning in her eyes. "So you're the little pet I've heard whispers about," she said, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Maxwell's secret bedwarmer."

My cheeks burned with humiliation as the room fell silent. I tried to step back, but Zendaya moved with surprising speed, blocking my path.

"Let me see you up close," she purred, circling me like a predator. "Yes, I can see why he kept you. There's something... familiar about your scent."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Excuse me, miss. I need to serve the guests."

"Oh, I'm not finished with you yet," Zendaya said, her eyes glinting with malice.

As I tried to move past her, she deliberately extended her foot, catching my ankle. I stumbled forward, the tray tipping. Wine splashed across the marble floor and onto Zendaya's silver shoes.

"Look what you've done!" she shrieked, though her expression showed more satisfaction than anger. "You clumsy, worthless Omega!"

She inhaled deeply, then released her scent markers—heavy, cloying, and suffocating. The sweet floral notes pressed against my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

"Kneel," she commanded. "Apologize for your disrespect."

I struggled to stay upright as her scent overwhelmed me, my vision blurring at the edges.

"What is going on here?" Maxwell's voice cut through the chaos.

For one desperate moment, I thought he might defend me. Instead, he strode forward and placed himself between Zendaya and me.

"I apologize for this disruption," he said smoothly, bowing slightly to her. "The help is clearly inadequate."

Then he turned to me, his eyes cold and unforgiving. With a swift movement, he kicked my legs out from under me, forcing me to my knees.

"Get this filth out of here," he snarled at the guards who had materialized beside us. "She is nothing to me."

As they dragged me away, I caught one last glimpse of Zendaya's triumphant smile and Maxwell's indifferent eyes. In that moment, something inside me hardened—a tiny spark where my wolf had once whimpered in pain.