Chapter 2 She's the pup

BROLN PACK

Alora moved swiftly through the kitchen, her tired hands inspecting the steaming pots of food. She checked the neatly cut vegetables on the work surface before lifting a ladle to taste the boiling sauce.

Satisfied, she nodded, hoping no one had seen her, getting caught would mean more than harsh words; it would mean bruises.

The entire pack bustled with activity. Warriors carried instruments and furniture into the grand hall, children ran about, dancing to the festive music that filled the air.

Today was a monumental occasion. The Alpha was taking his second mate, officially crowning her as Luna. This wasn't just a union but a bond between two powerful packs.

As tradition dictated, alphas from neighboring provinces were expected to attend.

Alora had been left alone to prepare all the meals. Hours before dawn, while others were sound asleep or returning from their hunts, she had begun cooking.

Now, drenched in sweat, her dress clung to her skin, carrying the pungent mix of spices and her own unwashed scent. The stench made her gag, but she pushed through, this was the last pot.

"Hey, wimp! Why are you slacking? The guests are almost here!"

Thalia stormed into the kitchen, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room before settling on Alora. Displeasure twisted her face.

"Is there anything you can do right, pup?" she sneered. "Get your useless self on that stool and scrub those dishes!"

Though an omega, Thalia seized any chance to exert dominance. Alora hurried to obey, scrubbing the plates with aching hands. Sweat dripped down her forehead; she wiped it with the back of her soapy palm, leaving foam on her face. They could have assigned someone to help, but no, they wouldn't be satisfied unless she was utterly exhausted. Not that she'd get to eat the food she spent hours making. That, too, was forbidden.

"Disgusting," Thalia scoffed before dipping a spoon into the pot. She tasted the sauce, smacked her lips, and gave a reluctant nod. "Not bad. At least the pup can cook." With that, she strutted out, her superiority evident in every step.

Alora swallowed the insult, but resentment burned in her chest. Twice, she had been called 'pup', a name she despised.

Who was Thalia to order her around? Just another errand girl, a nobody. And Alora? She was the daughter of the former Beta. She should be giving orders, not scrubbing plates like a lowly servant.

She finished cleaning, wiped down the kitchen, and slipped away to the abandoned stable that served as her room. She wanted to change her filthy dress, but exhaustion dragged her to the thin mattress. The moment her body hit the bed, sleep took her.

A gentle tap roused her.

Blinking, she saw a familiar face and relief flooded her. "Duane? What are you doing here?" she murmured, rubbing her tired eyes.

He chuckled. "And what is my pookie doing here?"

She frowned in confusion, glancing around the tiny space, a sagging bed, a sack in the corner that held her clothes. "This is my room, Duane."

He smirked. "While the hall is packed full?"

Panic shot through her. "Oh no!" She bolted upright, nearly stumbling as she grabbed the sack and overturned it in frantic search of a dress.

"I'm doomed!"

She stripped off her dirty gown without hesitation, unbothered by Duane's presence. What was there to hide? Her body was nothing but skin and bones now.

Duane looked away, his jaw tightening. At sixteen, she had been vibrant, full of life, until everything was stolen from her.

Now, she was a ghost of who she used to be. His heart ached at the sight, and he blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Alora yanked out an old pair of shoes, slipping them on before grabbing his arm. "Let's go!"

He didn't move.

Frowning, she looked up at him, searching his face. Instead of answering, he wrapped his arms around her frail body, wiping away the dirt from her face with his thumb.

"Everything will be okay, Lora," he murmured.

A bitter part of her mind screamed at the lie, but she silenced it with a weak smile.

Duane held her hand as they hurried to the pack hall. Attendance was mandatory for all wolves above sixteen. Given a choice, she would have stayed in the stable, curled up in her miserable excuse for a bed. The hall wasn't meant for someone like her. There, she was nothing but an object of ridicule.

The moment they arrived, dread gripped her.

"Don't worry," Duane reassured, leading her to the back. "I saved us seats."

But Alora's hands had already begun to tremble. Sweat pooled in her palms, her pulse pounded in her ears. Stepping into that hall, under those piercing gazes, felt like walking into a pit of vipers.

Her grip tightened on Duane's. He leaned close, whispering, "I'm here."

His presence grounded her, giving her just enough courage to follow.

As they sat, she scanned the crowd, searching.

"Looking for them?" Duane asked softly.

Her throat tightened. Of course, she was looking for them. The ones who had raised her, then abandoned her.

"How are they?" she whispered.

Duane scoffed. "You still care about them?"

She had no answer.

Her gaze wandered toward the stage where alphas from other provinces sat in their jewel-encrusted garments. Their power radiated off them.

"You look pale," Duane muttered, his eyes still forward. "Did they hit you again?"

She shook her head.

He sighed. "You know, your eyes shine when you lie. It makes you look beautiful."

His teasing tone pulled a small, fleeting smile from her. Even if his words were empty, they warmed her battered soul.

Then, a commotion at the entrance snapped their attention away.

A towering man strode in, his regalia sweeping the floor, his presence impossible to ignore. Alpha Donovan of the Herith Pack. The most powerful alpha after Floyd-the one who had conquered countless lands and owned the largest pack. His daughter, Hera, had been chosen as Floyd's mate.

On his left walked Hera, radiant and elegant, her beauty dazzling. On his right, another striking woman in royal attire, undoubtedly his Luna. Behind them trailed an entourage of warriors.

They moved toward the stage, where Floyd and the other alphas sat in anticipation.

The moment Donovan took his seat, the ceremony commenced.

Broln's Beta stepped forward. "We are honored by your presence. This union between our packs marks a new era of peace and prosperity. We welcome Hera as our next Luna."

Applause thundered through the hall, joy buzzing in the air.

But within Alora, a storm raged.

She should be the one up there.

It should be her seated beside Floyd, draped in royal silks, claiming the title of Luna. But the Moon Goddess had deemed her unworthy, had cursed her with this defect, this stain that had stripped her of everything.

Duane saw the shadows darkening her face, the pain she tried to bury.

"Bonny, don't let this get to you," he whispered.

But it was too late.

Tears burned her eyes, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them.

"Not here, Lora, please," Duane begged, pulling her close, wiping them away.

She tried to contain them, but the more she fought, the harder they fell.

"What will I do if you ruin this pretty face?" he teased, desperate to make her smile.

She forced one, small and fragile. "Thank you."

He squeezed her hand. "Tomorrow will be better."

She nodded, swallowing her sorrow.

Even if she didn't believe it.