My Alpha Sold Me to His Enemy

The pain didn't stop.

Three days after Cole's rejection, I still felt like something vital had been carved out of my chest with a rusty blade. Every breath was a struggle. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of agony through my body, reminding me that the Moon Goddess herself had deemed me unworthy.

The Omega quarters were damp and cold, tucked into the basement level of the packhouse where the wealthy wolves above us never had to see or smell our existence. My cot was thin, the blanket threadbare, and the concrete walls wept with moisture that made my bones ache. But I couldn't afford to rest. Omegas who didn't work didn't eat, and I'd already missed two shifts while my body tried to recover from the mate bond severance.

I forced myself upright, ignoring the way my vision swam. My hands were still blistered and raw from scrubbing, the chemical burns from the bleach refusing to heal without a wolf to speed the process. I wrapped them in stolen kitchen rags and headed to my assigned cleaning station.

The packhouse floors needed to be spotless before tonight's banquet. Another celebration. Another reminder of everything I'd never have.

I was on my hands and knees in the main corridor, scrubbing the marble until my reflection stared back at me—hollow-eyed and gaunt—when I heard it. The commotion at the front entrance. The excited whispers rippling through the staff.

She was here.

I didn't need to look up to know. That sickeningly sweet floral scent hit me like a physical blow, making my stomach turn. Lillian Stewart had arrived.

I kept my head down, my brush moving in steady circles, but I couldn't block out the sound of her voice. High and bright and dripping with the confidence of someone who'd never known a moment of doubt.

"Oh, Cole, darling, this is charming, but we'll need to completely redo the decor. This outdated style simply won't do for a Luna of my standing."

I risked a glance up. She stood in the foyer like a magazine cover come to life—designer dress that probably cost more than I'd earn in a year, perfectly styled hair, diamonds glittering at her throat. Cole stood beside her, his arm around her waist, looking at her with an expression I'd once dreamed he'd give me.

Adoration. Pride. Desire.

Luna Griffin appeared from the sitting room, her face lit with genuine warmth for the first time I'd ever witnessed. "Lillian, my dear! Welcome, welcome. Consider this your home now. Whatever you need, we'll make it happen."

"How generous." Lillian's gaze swept the room and landed on me. Her perfect lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Though I see the cleaning staff could use some improvement. This floor looks positively filthy."

She stepped forward deliberately, her expensive heels clicking against the marble I'd just spent an hour scrubbing. Then she dragged her shoe across the wet surface, leaving a long, deliberate streak of dirt from the bottom of her sole.

"Oops." Her voice was saccharine sweet. "How clumsy of me. You'll need to redo this entire section, won't you?"

I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood. "Yes, miss."

"That's 'Future Luna' to you, Omega."

I forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Yes, Future Luna."

She laughed, the sound like breaking glass, and swept past me with Cole and Luna Griffin flanking her like an honor guard. I heard them discussing paint colors and furniture as they disappeared up the grand staircase, leaving me alone with my bucket and brush and the fresh streak of filth marring my work.

That night, after eighteen hours of labor that left my hands bleeding through the rags, I collapsed onto my cot and pulled out my hidden datapad. The screen's glow was the only light in the darkness, and I let it wash over me like a benediction.

Shadow's forum. My sanctuary. The only place where my mind mattered more than my rank.

I began to write, my damaged fingers flying across the keys, pouring all my pain and rage into tactical formations and defense strategies that would revolutionize pack warfare. Here, I wasn't Serena Collins, the worthless wolfless Omega. Here, I was brilliant. Respected. Valued.

I didn't know that these very strategies were already making me famous in circles that would soon reshape my entire world.

I only knew that writing kept me breathing through one more impossible night.

The banquet came too quickly.

I was assigned to serve the high tables—a deliberate cruelty, I was certain. Luna Griffin's doing. She wanted me to see exactly what I'd lost, to watch Cole and Lillian play the perfect couple while I scurried around like the servant I'd become.

The great hall blazed with candlelight and crystal. Long tables groaned under elaborate dishes I'd never taste. The elite wolves of both the Blood Moon and Ironfang Packs filled the room with laughter and conversation, their expensive clothes and confident postures a stark contrast to my stained uniform.

I kept my eyes down, my movements efficient and invisible, as I'd been trained.

Until Lillian's voice cut through the ambient noise like a blade.

"You there. Omega. More wine."

I approached her table with the decanter, my wrapped hands steady despite the tremor running through my body. Cole sat beside her, his hand possessively on her thigh, not even glancing in my direction.

As I poured, Lillian shifted suddenly. The wine splashed across my already-burned hands, the alcohol searing into the open wounds. I gasped, nearly dropping the decanter.

"How clumsy," Lillian announced loudly, her voice carrying across the nearby tables. "Though I suppose we can't expect much from a wolfless Late Bloomer, can we? Tell me, Omega, do you always smell like chemicals? It's absolutely revolting."

Laughter erupted around us. Luna Griffin's voice joined in from across the table. "It's the bleach, dear. She spends so much time on her knees scrubbing that the scent has permanently soaked into her skin. Quite fitting, really, for someone of her station."

More laughter. Cole's lips twitched in amusement.

I stood there, wine dripping from my burned hands, surrounded by the pack I'd sacrificed everything for, and felt something inside me finally crack.

Not break. Not shatter.

Crack open.

And in that tiny fissure, something ancient and powerful stirred for the very first time.