I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard him again.
As your Alpha, I reject her.
The words chased me through the dark little room off the kitchen. The walls were thin. I could hear pots clanging, omegas whispering, pipes groaning. Somewhere above, wolves laughed. Someone dropped something heavy and swore.
I lay on the narrow cot, still wearing the stained servant dress. My knees burned where glass had cut them. My palms throbbed. Dried blood pulled tight over the cuts every time I flexed my fingers.
My wolf lay curled in my chest, quiet.
Too quiet.
I stared at the cracked ceiling and counted my breaths.
In. Out.
I didn't cry this time. I think I ran out of tears in the clearing.
By the time the sky started to lighten outside the tiny window, my decision was made.
I had to go.
I couldn't stay here. Not after last night. Not after kneeling in front of all of them, swearing I would never say the word "mate" again while they laughed.
He hated me.
And every second I stayed inside his territory felt wrong. Like I was breaking a rule just by breathing.
It was my fault anyway.
I ruined his ceremony. I ruined everything. Leaving was the least I could do.
I pushed myself up, legs stiff, head heavy. Someone had tossed a thin blanket over me at some point in the night. It slid to the floor.
The room smelled like old soup, cleaning chemicals, and my own fear souring in the air.
I swallowed hard and got moving before I lost my nerve.
My bag was small. Just a canvas thing I'd found in the laundry room. I stuffed in the little I owned—one extra dress, a cheap hoodie someone left behind, underwear, a broken hairbrush, the only photo I had from the orphanage. The edges were worn, faces faded.
I hesitated and then put it at the bottom of the bag.
No one would miss me. The pack had more omegas. Stronger ones. Less… me.
My stomach groaned as I stood. I hadn't eaten since before the ceremony. I pushed the hunger down. It didn't matter. I wouldn't get far anyway.
I pulled on the hoodie over the servant dress. It still smelled like soap and someone else's perfume. The fabric scratched my neck.
The hallway outside my door was empty. Bare bulb buzzing. I crept past the kitchen, holding my breath. The morning crew hadn't started yet. The big industrial fridge hummed. A draft under the back door carried in the scent of wet grass.
Every sound I made felt too loud. Every creak like a shout.
If anyone stopped me, I'd say I was going to the storage shed. Or the trash dump. Or… something. My lies were always weak, but maybe no one would care enough to question me.
At the back of the packhouse, the door stuck a bit then swung open. Cool air slapped my face. The sky outside was pale and cloudy, the last of the night clinging to the treetops.
The clearing where everything happened last night was empty now. The stone platform stood in the middle of trampled dirt, dark from spilled drinks and spilled blood. Glass glittered faintly near the spot I'd dropped the tray. Someone had swept most of it aside, but not all.
My chest clenched. I walked faster.
The path to the border cut through the trees behind the training field. The grass was wet, soaking through the thin flats on my feet. Birds chirped in the branches, way too cheerful. Somewhere to my left, someone was already running laps—thudding steps, harsh breaths—but they didn't look my way.
Good.
The further I got from the packhouse, the more the smells changed—less concrete and cooking, more dirt, pine, damp leaves. My lungs liked that better.
My wolf twitched once, uneasy.
We shouldn't leave, she whispered.
We already don't belong, I told her back. I was careful not to think the word she wasn't allowed to think. He said it. We're nothing. We're a mistake.
I could almost feel her flinch at that. It hurt. But it was true.
By the time the trees thinned, my calves burned. My knees stung with each step. The border fence loomed ahead. High chain-link, topped with barbed wire, stretched between the last line of trees and a big metal gate that opened onto the old service road.
The road led to human towns. Human buses. Human noise. A life where no one could smell what I was.
Two guards stood near the gate. Both warriors. Both huge.
Of course.
I stopped behind a tree, breath catching. My heart hammered so loud I was sure they'd hear it.
I could turn back. No one knew I tried. I could pretend this never—
One of the guards yawned, scratched his neck, and slouched against the fence.
The other one pulled out his phone.
They weren't looking.
I wiped my palms on my hoodie and stepped out onto the path.
Heads lifted.
They smelled me.
"Where are you going, omega?" the one with the phone asked. His voice was bored.
My mouth went dry. "I… I'm just— just going to the road," I stammered. "To get rid of some… trash. For the kitchen."
In the bag. Trash. I hugged it closer, as if that made it real.
The warrior's eyes dropped to the bag. Then flicked back up. His lips twisted.
"That's not a trash bag," he said.
Heat shot up my neck. "I— I know, I just… we ran out of the—"
"The Alpha gave an order after last night." The other one pushed off the fence. His tone sharpened. "No omegas leave the grounds this morning. No one leaves without clearance."
Of course he did.
My fingers tightened on the strap. My nails dug into the cheap fabric. "I won't cause trouble," I said quickly. "I promise. I'm not… I'm not running away or anything."
My voice shook. It made me sound even more guilty.
Both warriors stared now.
The one with the phone sighed. "You really are stupid, aren't you?"
I shrank back a step. My shoulders tried to climb to my ears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"Stop saying sorry," the other snapped. "Either go back to the house or stand there and wait while we call—"
He stopped.
His nostrils flared.
A cold breeze slid through the trees, carrying a scent with it that made every hair on my arms stand up.
Smoke. Storm.
My lungs froze.
No. No, no, no—
The guards straightened. Their spines went rigid, shoulders snapping back. They bowed their heads instinctively as footsteps crunched on leaves behind me.
I didn't have to turn to know who it was.
My wolf tucked herself deeper inside me.
I turned anyway.
Kade walked down the path like he owned the ground under it. Black T-shirt, black sweatpants, hands bare, hair messy like he'd thrown on clothes and come straight from training. Or straight from bed. I didn't let my brain stay on that.
His jaw was dark with stubble. His eyes were colder than the morning air.
He looked like he hadn't slept either.
He didn't look at me first.
"Problem?" he asked the guards.
One word. Flat. Heavy.
They both scrambled.
"No, Alpha," the one with the phone said. "Just… an omega trying to leave."
Kade's gaze slid to the bag clutched in my hands. Then up. My breath got stuck in my throat when his eyes met mine.
The bond twisted in my chest. Painful. Hot. My wolf whimpered.
His expression didn't change.
"What are you doing, Mira?" he asked.
Hearing him say my name made something awful flutter in my stomach.
I hugged the bag tighter like it could shield me. "I… I was just—"
"Don't lie."
My mouth snapped shut. My cheeks burned. My eyes dropped to his chest. Anywhere but his face.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I— I thought it'd be better if I left. So you wouldn't have to… see me. Or deal with— with this." I gestured weakly at myself. "Last night was my fault. I ruined everything. I thought if I wasn't here, it'd be easier for you. For the pack."
My voice cracked on the last word.
He watched me in that way he had. Like he was staring through me, not at me.
"You think you get to make that choice?" he said.
The words hit like a slap.
"I— I just thought—"
"That's your first mistake," he cut in. "Thinking."
The guards snorted. Laughed under their breath. I shrank a little more.
"I'm sorry," I said again. The words spilled out on instinct. "I know I shouldn't have. I just… I don't want to cause more trouble. I know I'm a mess. I know I'm weak. I know I embarrass you. I thought leaving would… fix some of it."
I couldn't stop talking. I wanted him to see I meant well. Even if everything I did came out wrong.
He stepped closer.
Each step felt loud. Leaves crunching. Gravel grinding under his heels. His scent thickened in the air until my head spun.
He stopped in front of me. Not as close as last night. Close enough that I had to tilt my head to see his face.
I didn't.
I stared at his collarbone instead.
"Look at me," he said.
My throat locked. I dragged my gaze up, inch by inch. It hurt more than the cuts.
His eyes looked darker in the gray light. There were faint shadows under them. His mouth was set hard.
"You are not leaving this pack," he said.
My heart dropped. "But—"
"You don't have a say," he snapped. "You're pack property. You're an omega. You work here. You sleep here. You breathe here if I allow it." He flicked his chin at the bag. "You don't walk out because you feel sorry for yourself."
Tears stung my eyes. I blinked fast, but one slipped free and rolled down my cheek.
"I wasn't— I wasn't trying to make it about me," I whispered. "I just thought… you said I was nothing. You said the Moon made a mistake. I thought removing the mistake would help."
My voice shook harder with every word. I hated how pathetic I sounded. Hated that I couldn't stop.
His jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump.
"You leaving doesn't fix anything," he said. "It just makes you a coward on top of a failure."
The words burned.
I dropped my gaze again. "You're right," I said softly. "I'm sorry."
He reached out.
For a stupid second, my wolf surged, thinking he'd touch my face again. My skin tingled in expectation.
His hand closed on the strap of the bag instead.
He yanked it out of my grip.
"No," I said, too fast. My fingers grabbed at air. Panic flared. "Please, that's all I have—"
He unzipped it and tipped it. My clothes, the old photo, the brush—everything tumbled into the dirt at my feet.
"Then you have nothing," he said.
My chest squeezed. I dropped to my knees without thinking, hands scrambling to grab the picture before the damp ground soaked it.
Pain shot up my legs where the cuts reopened. I bit back a hiss.
Behind me, the guards were quiet now.
I snatched up the photo and clutched it to my chest. The image was already smudged. The ink had faded so much the faces were only shapes. It still hurt losing it.
"Pick that up," Kade ordered.
I shoved my things back into the bag with shaking hands. Dirt smeared over the fabric. My fingers were trembling too hard to close the zipper properly.
When I finally managed it, I stood again on unsteady legs, bag dangling limp from my hand.
Kade looked at the guards.
"She doesn't go near this gate again without my direct order," he said. "If she tries to cross the border, you drag her back by her hair if you have to."
One of them nodded fast. "Yes, Alpha."
"If she keeps pushing it," Kade added, "break something she'll feel for a while."
My stomach lurched.
He turned his eyes back on me. Cold. Sharp. "You want to be useful?" he said. "Fine. You're staying. You will work as a servant. You will scrub floors. Clean toilets. Carry plates. Whatever the omegas' head gives you."
I swallowed. Hard. "Yes, Alpha."
"And you'll do it where everyone can see you," he went on. "I want every wolf in this pack to look at you and remember what happens when the Moon fucks up."
His voice didn't rise. That made it worse.
"You'll be the reminder," he said. "The failure they point to when they say how lucky I am that I chose better."
My vision blurred.
Failure. Reminder.
It fit. It was true. Of course he'd found a way to make me useful. It was the least I could do. After everything I ruined.
My head dropped again. "I understand," I whispered.
"Do you?" he asked.
I nodded so fast my neck hurt. "Yes. I'll stay. I'll work. I won't try to leave again. I won't… I won't make things worse. I promise."
My voice cracked on the last word.
He watched me a beat longer. His eyes flicked to my knees. Blood had started to soak through the thin dress.
"Get those cleaned," he said. "You're on kitchen duty by noon."
"Yes, Alpha."
He stepped back. The bond twisted again as the distance grew. Stupid, needy part of me wanted to reach out and grab his shirt. To beg him not to walk away angry.
I curled my fingers tighter around the bag instead.
He turned his back on me and headed down the path, shoulders tight, hands clenched at his sides.
The guards went back to their posts like nothing had happened.
The wind rustled the leaves. A crow called somewhere far away. The fence hummed faintly as the pack's border wards pulsed.
I stood there on shaking legs, knees bleeding, heart shredded, holding a bag of almost nothing.
I'd tried to run.
He'd chained me here instead.
As a lesson.
As a joke.
As his failure.
My wolf let out a small, broken sound inside me.
I'm sorry, I told her. I really do ruin everything.
I forced my feet to move, one slow step at a time, back toward the packhouse.
Back toward the work.
Back toward him.