Slave To The Alpha

Her bare feet padded across the hard ground as she ran with all her might. The leaves in the vast forest hindered her sight, but she pushed them aside, desperate to escape. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks puffy from crying nonstop for what felt like an eternity.

"Thief! Catch that thief!" she heard the head guard shout behind her, and the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, all heading in her direction.

It was unfair-she hadn't done anything. She had been framed, but who would listen to her? She was nothing but a slave in the castle, her status even lower than that of the Omegas. She hadn't committed any crime, yet she felt the sharp sting of injustice pressing down on her. Her body ached from hunger, and her head spun as she was deprived of food all day. She would have been dead by now if the head maid hadn't helped her escape from the dungeon.

She had lived a miserable life from the very beginning. She didn't even know the identity of her parents. All she could remember was the time spent in the orphanage. She was only six when the orphanage was ambushed, and most of the children, including herself, were kidnapped. Some were sold off to places unknown, but she had ended up in the Shadowcrest Pack, the strongest werewolf pack in existence.

She treaded with caution, knowing that even the slightest mistake could cost her life. The Alpha of the Shadowcrest Pack was said to be the strongest Lycan alive, rumored to come from an ancient werewolf bloodline. She had heard of how he ruthlessly took lives-he was even called the devil by those who feared him.

She spotted a small hole in the ground, covered by a tangle of leaves. She was sure she could fit inside. Without hesitation, she jumped in, quickly covering herself with the leaves. She pressed her palms to her mouth to quiet her breathing, hoping the guards wouldn't hear her.

"Where did that filthy rat go?" she heard the head guard yell. Her heart raced even faster.

"She shouldn't have gone too far, sir. She's a human, after all," another guard said.

"Search the perimeter. She's wanted dead or alive," the head guard barked. The guards quickly scatt imb ered, scouring the forest for her.

She huddled in the small hole for more than an hour, trembling with fear. She knew there was no escape. Sooner or later, they would find her, and when they did, the punishment for the alleged crime would be brutal-dragged to the gallows, where her head would be severed from her body. She didn't want to die-not like this. She was only 21. Her life couldn't end in such a cruel and unjust way. If only they would listen to her, but it was her word against that of a woman from higher society. Who would believe her?

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she felt the coast was clear. She cautiously emerged from her hiding place, her body sore and bruised. Her feet, raw and bleeding from running barefoot, ached with every step. She had no shoes, no protection, just the tattered remnants of the clothes they had given her.

She moved slowly through the dense forest, searching for a way out, a means of escape.

But then her feet suddenly halted, and her heart skipped a beat when she heard footsteps approaching. She quickly darted behind a large tree, covering her mouth with both hands to suppress the sound of her breathing. The footsteps grew louder, drawing nearer. This was it-she would be caught, and her life would end right here.

She heard the person move closer, and just when she thought she was done for, she heard the footsteps fade. Her heart raced as relief washed over her. But her exhaustion soon caught up with her, and tears began to flow again. What was the point? Could she really hide forever?

She sighed, tired and defeated, and began to emerge from her hiding place. But just as she stepped out from behind the tree, her head collided with something hard. Her eyes widened in panic, and she quickly turned to run, but strong hands gripped her tightly, yanking her back and slamming her against the tree. Cold sweat broke out on her skin as she felt a pressure around her neck. His fingers tightened, and she gasped for breath.

Her heart raced in fear. She had thought it was the head guard, but when she looked up, she saw a man with a mask-tall, lean, yet with a broad chest. The mask left his eyes exposed, and she found herself caught in the depths of his ethereal gray gaze. It was rare to find someone with eyes like hers. His stark red hair was tousled as though he had run his fingers through it repeatedly, giving him a wild yet controlled appearance.

Could this be the one? Was he the one who would end her misery-filled life?

"You really have some nerve, little girl," he said, his voice calm but menacing. She could tell that this situation was far from calm. His eyes raked over her body as if trying to read her soul, and she instinctively tried to break free from his hold.

He exuded an overwhelming darkness, and she knew that if she wasn't careful, he could drag her into a place much worse than the one she had escaped from.

She was exhausted-exhausted from running, exhausted from the constant fear, and tired of explaining herself. Why should she keep trying when she knew no one would listen?

"I'm not a little girl," she said, glaring up at him, trying to summon what little defiance she had left. She was sure he was one of them-one of the heartless werewolves who killed humans as if they were nothing. He would kill her too, and she had no doubt about it.

His deep chuckle only made her shrink back further. Who was this man? Why did he seem so different from the others?

He finally released her neck, his fingers slipping away as he took a step back to assess her. His eyes lingered on her, as if drinking in her appearance.

"Glare at me one more time, and these gorgeous orbs will be the last thing you see," he said calmly, his voice laced with a dangerous threat. She wasn't foolish enough to miss the warning in his tone. He wasn't joking. She quickly lowered her eyes, a chill running down her spine as goosebumps rose on her skin.

"Your name," he demanded coldly.

She wondered what use a lowly slave's name would be to him, especially when she was so sure she wouldn't survive the next hour.

"It's... Zephyr," she whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He studied her for a moment, as if considering something. "I'm torn between commending your bravery or wondering if you have an empty skull," he mused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What made you think you could escape from Shadowcrest Castle, hm?"

Zephyr's brows twitched as she recalled her impulsive actions. That was right-she hadn't thought about it. She had simply acted when the opportunity arose.

"I... I didn't do anything wrong. I was framed, but no one would believe a lowly slave anyway," she said quietly. If his hearing wasn't as sharp as it seemed, he might not have caught her words.

"And you thought running was a better option?" He scoffed, the sound bitter and mocking.

Zephyr's eyes dropped to her trembling hands, the fingers fidgeting as her back pressed against the tree. Cold sweat rolled down her spine as he took two deliberate steps toward her, his presence looming over her like a dark storm.

"I don't... I don't want to die. Not now," Zephyr whispered, her voice barely audible as she felt the weight of her own helplessness. She could feel death creeping closer, like an inevitable shadow.

The man studied her intently, his lips curling into a sinister smirk. She flinched when he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"I'll save your life, little lamb," he whispered. "But it comes with a rather heavy price..."

Zephyr's eyes widened at his next words, her heart pounding in her chest.

---

Zephyr ran after him through the thick forest. His long legs took quicker strides, while her short legs couldn't keep up. Not to mention, she had barely eaten all day, and her bare feet were sore.

"Ahh!" she yelped as she felt something prick the sole of her foot, causing her to fall on her bottom. She tried to blink back the tears, but she couldn't, and so they fell freely. She was tired-way too tired of everything going on. She couldn't move her feet anymore, and she was sure the masked man must be long gone by now. Who would want to help an insignificant human like herself?

More tears fell from her eyes, and she was still crying when she felt strong arms lift her from the ground. Zephyr gasped when she saw it was the masked man. She could barely believe he had come back for her and was now carrying her in his arms. She tried to control herself, but little sobs escaped from her mouth.

"One more sound from you, and I'll be sure to drag you to the gallows myself," his cold voice resounded in her ear, and Zephyr's cheeks turned pink. She immediately stopped crying.

Her heart continued to beat rapidly. It was the first time she was in a man's arms, and not to mention, he was a stranger. She had no idea who he was or where he was taking her.

After a few more minutes of walking, Zephyr's eyes widened when she saw the castle's gate in front of her. He... had brought her back. She tried to break free from his hold, but it was impossible.

Her heart raced madly as he walked past the gate with her in his arms. What was even more shocking was the fact that the guards kept bowing to him. Fear gripped Zephyr immediately as she wondered about the identity of this mysterious man.

He gently dropped her in front of the castle, and Zephyr's heart almost leaped out of her chest when she saw the head guard and the rest of the other guards approaching her. She instinctively hid behind him.

"Alpha Damon, we're sorry we could not apprehend the suspect. Please pardon our incompetence," the head guard said as he and the rest of the guards fell on their knees.

Zephyr froze in place, starstruck. She couldn't hear the rest of their conversation as she tried to process the newfound information. He was the Alpha of the Shadowcrest Pack, the ruthless Alpha who was rumored to be the devil. She gulped fearfully, realizing that she had voluntarily given herself to the devil. She was now his property.

The sound of the broom swooshing against the marble floor was the only thing Zephyr could hear as she remained lost in thought. She stood alone in the dark hallway, lit by torches placed on either side of the walls.

She was a slave, her status lower than that of the maids in the castle, yet she had been framed for something she didn't do. Why? Who would do such a thing? And to make matters worse, she had encountered the Alpha. He had told her she would become his property.

An Omega wasn't allowed to breathe the same air as the Alpha, let alone a maid or a slave. A slave doing such deserved to be cast into hell. She hadn't known, though. She hadn't known he was the Alpha. If she had, she would have begged for death. After the guards had called him Alpha, she had run away, unaware of the instructions he had given the guards concerning her case. Why had the Alpha helped her? She was of no use to him. She didn't even deserve to clean the shoes he wore.

Lost in thought, she had unknowingly stopped sweeping and was now staring into space. Zephyr snapped back to reality when she saw one of the maids approaching: Sheila. Her back stiffened, and she immediately resumed her sweeping.

Sheila stood in front of her, staring with disgust. Zephyr stopped what she was doing and bowed deeply.

"Why did you stop sweeping? Didn't I tell you this hallway should be spotless before dawn?" Sheila asked harshly, her face scornful.

This was their favorite pastime-belittling the slaves in the castle. Most of the slaves had been sent to the homes of the elites to work as maids. Zephyr had been praying to be transferred as well, to escape the harsh treatment from the maids.

Zephyr kept her head bent low, knowing that speaking out would result in harsh slaps and beatings.

"Shall I teach you the proper way to mop the floors?" Sheila asked with a wicked grin.

Zephyr's heart raced in fear and panic, remembering how Sheila had once dunked her head into soapy water and used her hair to clean the floor. Instinctively, Zephyr took a step back. Sheila's eyes flashed with irritation, and she lunged at Zephyr, grabbing her hair and pulling it harshly, enjoying Zephyr's cries of pain.

"Sheila!" They heard a woman call. They turned to see the head maid approaching, and Sheila released Zephyr's hair.

"That's enough. Go trim the flowers in the garden," the head maid said calmly.

"Okay, Mother." Sheila threw Zephyr a hateful glare before walking away. The head maid was Sheila's mother, so she received special treatment.

Zephyr didn't need anyone to tell her-it was obviously Sheila who had framed her. It had to be her. The head maid walked toward her, and Zephyr lowered her head in fear. The head maid terrified her. Though she appeared calm, she was an extremely devious person. Yet this same woman had saved her; she had unlocked her jail cell.

"Thank you," Zephyr said softly.

The head maid, who had never heard the slave speak, was momentarily shocked. But her face quickly hardened, and she studied Zephyr's ragged appearance, confusion crossing her features.

"What are you thanking me for? Speak, slave!" Her voice rose, and Zephyr flinched.

Zephyr became confused by the hostility. She had seen this woman the night before. The head maid had unlocked her cell and told her to run as fast as she could. Now, standing before her, the woman seemed like one who lacked kindness or compassion. Zephyr's fear grew.

"You... you... saved me from..." Zephyr stuttered, fear making her hands clench the fabric of her ragged dress. "I..."

"Courtney," a voice interrupted.

Both women looked up, and Zephyr swallowed hard when she saw the intimidating butler standing there. His gray hair was combed back, and his bright red eyes glared at them. His skin was pale-so pale and thin that he almost looked like a corpse.

"What are you doing here while the maids are slacking?" he asked grimly. Zephyr quickly bowed her head, her body trembling.

"Pardon me, I'll be there shortly, Sire," Courtney replied, bowing deeply.

"Gather all the maids and slaves to the courtyard," the butler ordered, his eyes fixed on Zephyr. Courtney nodded, and the butler walked away.

"You heard him-get to the courtyard immediately!" Courtney yelled, and Zephyr hurriedly sprinted away.

Courtney glared at the lowly slave, wondering what Zephyr had wanted to say. It was a mystery why she hadn't been executed the previous day for stealing from an elite. Courtney clicked her tongue in disgust; she had been hoping to witness the servant's death.

Zephyr's feet felt cold as they pressed against the marble floor. Was her name still not cleared? Was that why they were all being summoned to the courtyard? To watch her execution? Her steps faltered when she saw the maids making their way through the back door of the castle. Reluctantly, Zephyr joined them, goosebumps rising on her skin. She was a trembling mess by the time she arrived at the courtyard and quickly stood with the other slaves.

When Alpha Damon arrived, everyone bowed deeply. None of them dared lift their heads until he had seated himself on the majestic chair in front of the gallows.

Zephyr's hands were clammy, and her eyes were red from tears. No amount of preparation could have prepared her for her execution.

"Bring her forward!" the head guard yelled.

To Zephyr's surprise, it wasn't her, but another maid who was being dragged out by the guards. Her neck, hands, and feet were bound in shackles. Zephyr watched the young girl scream for mercy, but the guards paid no attention as they yanked her by the chains, leading her toward the gallows.

"Have mercy on me, please!" the girl cried out, but no one made any move to help her.

Zephyr watched Alpha Damon rise from his chair. His posture, his footsteps-everything about him was calculated. His face was cold and expressionless, and Zephyr's heart raced as she watched him approach the girl.

"Alpha... Alpha Da..." the girl stammered, unable to finish her plea before Damon drew his sword and severed her head in one swift motion.

Zephyr's body went pale as she watched the girl's head roll from her lifeless body. The girl's blood now smeared across Damon's handsome face.

Zephyr continued to watch him from the crowd, her expression one of horror. Her blood ran cold when his dark, predatory eyes on her, and a sinister smirk spread across his lips-as if telling her she was next.

Damon's dark eyes fell on her, and he could feel her trembling beneath his gaze. His eyes never left her until she exited the courtyard.

Damon's smirk was replaced with a grim expression as he turned to his right-hand man, Alfred.

"Take her body to my pets in the dungeon," Damon ordered, and Alfred quickly obliged.

Alfred, who had served the Alpha as his Beta and right-hand man, wasted no time passing the instructions to the guards. Something told him his Alpha was in a bad mood, and irritating him further was not the wisest choice-unless he had plans of ending up six feet under.

Damon turned to leave when a young, beautiful lady quickly wound her arms around him.

Amber Leofric, the daughter of the Alpha of the Nightshade Tribe, was the epitome of beauty. She wore a blue gown made of bright, expensive silk, and her blonde hair was neatly arranged in a bun. Like every other lady of high society, she was here to seek a future with the most handsome and powerful Alpha. Amber felt more than flattered that Damon had singlehandedly executed the wretched maid who had stolen her expensive jewelry. Her hopes of becoming his Luna soared.

"I'm very flattered that you went through the trouble to bring the culprit to justice, Alpha Damon," Amber said, her voice demure.

"Aren't you a sweet birdbrain?" Damon scoffed. Amber stylishly removed her hands from his. He had outrightly insulted her in front of his workers. Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

"Prepare a carriage for Ms. Leofric; she'll be heading home immediately after breakfast," Damon said as he began walking away.

"Yes, milord," Alfred bowed and quickly left to ensure the carriage was ready.

Amber stood there alone, devastated. She felt like a failure. She had thought their relationship was blossoming, and when he had taken her the previous night, she was happy to give her virginity to him. She never once complained, no matter how many times he took her or how painful it was. In the end, everything had gone down the drain. She would become a laughingstock in the pack.

During breakfast, Amber did her best to sway Damon's decision, but he ignored her as if she didn't exist. Amber was nearly in tears as she was escorted to the carriage, while Damon watched expressionlessly from the tower in his room.

"You deserve an award for crushing people's hopes and dreams, milord," Alfred said beside him.

Damon smirked. "But here you are, alive and breathing. Isn't that your dream? To live-how long?" Damon questioned, a dark smirk on his lips.

"To live to continue serving you, my lord, that's all I could ask for," Alfred replied.

"How boring," Damon said, his elegant fingers slowly trailing the glass window. "It must be sickening, living as a mortal Lycan."

"Not everyone is fortunate enough to be immortal like you, my lord," Alfred said, his words followed by a brief moment of silence.

He watched Damon stare through the window, as though in deep concentration. His dark gray eyes remained cold and expressionless, as always, and his red silky hair was pushed backward, with two rebellious strands falling across his face.

Alfred had been with him since Damon turned sixteen. He had admired his intelligence even at such a young age. Claiming the position of Alpha had been no easy feat, and Alfred didn't want to delve into those bloody memories anytime soon.

"Tell me, Alfred," Damon began, "if you acquired a commodity, a human, what would you do with it?"

Alfred held back a scoff. He could tell Damon had chosen to use the word "it" because he viewed humans as beneath him-worthless beings. But why would he purchase a human?

"The person could be a slave," Alfred said.

"I already have enough slaves," Damon replied lazily.

"You could make her your personal maid, then," Alfred proposed.

"I remember saying it was a human. Keeping them too close means death," Damon said.

"You could make her your sex tool," Alfred suggested.

Damon's eyes narrowed as he stared out the window at a particular slave with gray eyes. While the other maids worked in pairs, she was alone, picking up dried twigs from the floor.

Alfred, thinking Damon was considering ring his suggestions, was stunned by Damon's next reply.

"Too fragile. She'll definitely break after the first thrust," Damon said, walking away, leaving Alfred in shock.

---

Dressed in a simple, dull silk gown, Zephyr sat in front of the old mirror, loosening her hair. Her long, wavy black hair cascaded down to her waist, and her ethereal gray eyes stared back at her. Despite wearing rags all her life, Zephyr was undeniably beautiful, which often drew harsh treatment and cruelty from the other maids.

Her stomach rumbled in hunger. She hadn't eaten all day. Quietly, she left her room and made her way to the kitchen through the back door. She often snuck in late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, to avoid further mistreatment from the maids.

She took some bread and butter, placed it on a plate, and ate quickly. Minutes later, she finished the food and drank some water.

Zephyr was heading back to her room when she suddenly heard soft cries and whimpers. Her feet froze in place. Torn between curiosity and avoiding trouble, she hesitated. But as the cries grew louder, Zephyr stepped back, determined to check what it was. If it was something she couldn't intervene in, she would simply return to her room.

Zephyr climbed the long flights of stairs, finally locating the source of the noise in a dark corner. It was a small animal with white fur. What intrigued her was that its eyes were gray like hers.

"What are you?" Zephyr whispered softly. Her gaze fell on the wound on its left leg. She gasped and quickly tore a strip from her already worn-out cloth, carefully tying it around the creature's leg.

Zephyr cradled the cub in her arms. Surely no one would find out she had kept it-it had been abandoned. She was about to take the cub to her room when she heard footsteps approaching. Zephyr gasped. The suite she was in now belonged to the Alpha and his important guests. If someone found her here, she would be killed.

Panicked, Zephyr ran into an empty room, quickly hiding behind the curtains, holding the cub tightly to her chest. The room was a large study, and she could only pray no one would enter. Her heartbeat raced in her ears-what was she doing? She was digging her own grave, and she could only pray she wouldn't get caught.

She held her breath as fear consumed her when the footsteps grew louder. She prayed the person would turn away, leave, but her prayers were unanswered. The door unlocked, and someone entered.

The sharp, measured footsteps and the cold aura that followed made it clear to Zephyr who had entered. The Alpha. Damon.

A strong wind blew past the window, and that was enough to blow away the curtain that hid her. Zephyr gasped and stumbled backward when she saw him standing in front of her; she hadn't heard him walk toward her.

His aura was as intimidating and soul-threatening as before. His tousled red hair now fell freely, covering part of his face. The first two buttons of his shirt were left undone, and Zephyr caught a glimpse of his chiseled chest-he looked like a devil. Zephyr took a step back and let out a soft gasp when her back came in contact with the wall. Damon covered the space between them and slammed his hand against the wall beside her head. Zephyr froze completely.

"Tell me, Zephyr," he whispered softly, his cold breath fanning the shell of her ear. "Why are you here in my suite and with my cub?" he asked coldly, and Zephyr knew her death day had arrived.