Olivia's POV
It had been two days since the guards dragged her mother away. Two days of silence, two days of being locked in her own thoughts, with nothing but the echo of her mother's last words—be strong, Olivia, be strong—burning in her chest.
She had not been allowed to see her. Not even a glimpse. No word, no assurance, nothing. Just silence and the cold comfort of the walls of the Alpha's palace.
Work had resumed, though. She had no choice. The Alpha's sons still required their chambers spotless, their boots polished, their halls swept as if her mother's imprisonment wasn't gnawing her alive inside. She carried her rag and her bucket as if it were armor, her back straighter than ever, her jaw tight.
Rumors had already reached her ears—Mal's eighteenth birthday was tomorrow. A grand celebration, whispers said. The halls would be drenched in silk and wine, musicians playing until the moon slept. Olivia could almost laugh. Once, long ago, she would have been at Mal's side, clapping, laughing, eating cake with childish joy. Back when Mal was her best friend. Back before betrayal, before envy curdled friendship into poison.
Now Mal's birthday meant nothing to her. Nothing but another reminder of what was stolen from her.
She had grown quieter than ever. She barely spoke, not even when the other maids tried to make small talk. But soon they stopped trying at all. They saw it—the faint, glowing flicker of her blue eyes beneath her lowered lashes. A dangerous light. An unexplainable light.
They began to fear her.
She didn't mind the space, but she hated the fear. She didn't want their trembling, their whispers. Yet she said nothing, let them scatter like frightened birds when she entered the room. Perhaps fear was all she had left to command.
Hours passed that day with her cleaning corridors, polishing golden handles until they reflected her own tired face back at her. She didn't even notice the shadow that fell across her until a guard cleared his throat.
She froze. His armor gleamed, but his eyes darted nervously, as if he feared being seen speaking to her.
"Do not tell anyone I came to you," he whispered. His voice was sharp but low, cautious. "I serve Lord Lex directly. I am here with a message. The royal sick bay needs cleaning. Go there. Alone."
And with that, he was gone, leaving her heart racing.
The sick bay.
Lex.
Her chest tightened. It had been years since she had last seen him up close, and the last time… he had been her nightmare. The chains, the punishments, the cruelty disguised as protection.
Still, her feet carried her there. She knocked twice.
"Come in," came his voice. Calm, steady, but weaker than she remembered.
She opened the door.
Lex was there. Half-dressed, no shirt, his torso wrapped in linen from fresh wounds. His skin gleamed faintly with sweat, his body still powerful despite the injuries. His abs flexed as he shifted, his frame broader than she remembered.
Her golden skin caught his eyes instantly. For a long moment, their gazes locked. His brown eyes were darker, older, but softened with something she could not name. She didn't blink, didn't smile, didn't speak. She simply looked away and began cleaning.
The silence cut him.
"Olivia…" His voice faltered.
She scrubbed the edge of the table harder.
"Olivia, I… I…" His words tangled, his throat dry, as if he'd rehearsed this but couldn't force it past his lips.
She stilled, slowly lifting her eyes to him.
"I… I'm glad to see you here," he finally managed.
Her brows furrowed. Glad? That was it? She almost laughed. He couldn't even say what he needed to say.
She turned away, gripping the cloth until her knuckles whitened.
Then, his voice cracked.
"Olivia—I'm sorry!"
The words hit her like a blade, sharp and unwelcome. Her body froze, but she didn't turn.
Lex pushed on, desperation spilling from him.
"I'm sorry for hurting you. For putting you through all of that. I thought… I thought that was the only way to keep you safe. To protect you. But I was wrong, Olivia. I was wrong. I was blind. I am so, so sorry."
Her chest ached, but her face remained cold.
He tried again, his voice softer now, raw.
"I heard about your mother. I'll do everything in my power to free her. I swear it. I know it wasn't you who sent the assassin after my father—it was Mal. I know it now. Please, forgive me. Please."
Her rag slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor with a dull sound. Slowly, she turned, her blue eyes glowing faint beneath the dim light.
She smiled. But it wasn't kind. It wasn't forgiving.
"Maybe it was me," she said quietly.
And she walked out.
Lex sat there, stunned, his chest heaving as if he'd just been stabbed. He wanted her forgiveness, begged for it, but she gave him nothing. Nothing but a cruel maybe, as if she could become the villain he once accused her of being.
Outside, her steps echoed like thunder against the stone halls. Her thoughts were fire, burning, breaking through every scar she carried. She wasn't the same girl he had once punished. She wasn't the servant they all thought they could break.
She whispered to herself, almost like a vow, "They must pay."
So lost in her fury, she didn't notice Mal standing nearby.
"Olivia!" Mal's sharp voice called, smug and curious.
But Olivia didn't answer. She kept walking.
Then Mal saw it. The glow.
Olivia's eyes burned a thick, unnatural blue. A wolf's glow—but not gold, not red, not silver. Something new. Something dangerous.
Mal's breath caught in her throat.
Does she… does she have a wolf?
Her mind reeled. No. No, impossible. She's an omega. She can't. She shouldn't.
But she had seen it. The glow was real.
And for the first time, Mal felt not jealousy, but fear.