Mira's POV
The water in the bucket is gray. Dirty. Cold.
Mira scrubs the pack house floor on her hands and knees, her fingers raw and bleeding into the water. She doesn't stop. Stopping means pain. Three years of Ronan's rule taught her that much.
The scrub brush is rough against her palms. Each stroke sends a spike of hurt up her wrists but she keeps moving. The floor will never be clean enough, but stopping isn't an option.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Fast. Ronan.
Her entire body goes tight. She presses her forehead lower, making herself smaller, invisible. Maybe he'll just pass by. Maybe today is the day he forgets about her.
His boot comes down and splashes the bucket. Water drenches her clothes, her hair, the floor she's been scrubbing for hours.
"Useless," he says from above.
She can hear the sneer without looking up.
"Clean it again. Breakfast ready in twenty minutes or I'll use the whip." His voice is calm, which is worse than yelling. Calm means he'll follow through. "Move."
Mira scrambles up on shaking legs and heads for the pump. She needs to work fast. Twenty minutes isn't enough time to clean this mess and cook, but it has to be. The alternative is a whipping and her back can't handle another one. Last week's scars are still healing.
The gray water gets used anyway.
Her fingers bleed more.
She wraps the worst ones around her skirt and heads to the kitchen.
The pack house is quiet this early. Most wolves still sleep. Just her and Ronan. Just her and the man who enjoys hurting her more than anything else.
In the kitchen, she pulls out eggs and bread with trembling hands. They shake anyway. Her whole body shakes when Ronan is near.
One egg cracks into the pan. Then another. The smell makes her stomach growl but she won't eat. That food belongs to him. To him and whatever warriors he wants to impress. Omegas like her get scraps, if she's lucky.
The bread goes into the oven. She counts minutes in her head. Twelve left.
Then her hand slips.
The plate falls.
It shatters on stone with a sound like the end of the world.
Mira freezes. Everything in her stops—breath, heartbeat, thought.
The footsteps are immediate. Ronan appears in the kitchen doorway before she can think about running. Before she can think about breathing.
His belt is already off. Already unwrapped from around his waist. He holds it in one hand and his eyes are cold and pleased, like a predator spotting wounded prey.
"Clumsy," he says.
She doesn't answer. Answering makes it worse.
He raises the belt and she flinches, her arms coming up to shield her face like they always do. She's been hit so many times that her body knows this dance by heart. Flinch. Protect. Survive.
But before the belt comes down, the whole pack house shakes.
An explosion.
Loud and violent and huge.
The windows rattle. Something massive crashes outside. Ronan curses and spins toward the sound, and for the first time, Mira sees something break in his expression. Real fear.
"What is happening?" he mutters and runs toward the front of the pack house.
Screams. Wolves screaming. Pack members yelling.
The sounds get louder. Closer.
Windows glow orange. Fire.
Mira presses herself against the kitchen wall and listens to chaos unfold. She doesn't know what's happening but her body knows one thing: danger. Hide. Be invisible.
Another explosion. Closer. Something massive crashes through the walls—wolves snarling, howling in rage.
An attack.
Shadowfang.
Everyone's been talking about the possibility for weeks. Ronan's been raiding their territory, stealing resources, killing their scouts. He said they'd never dare attack the main pack house. He said he was too strong.
He was wrong.
Mira moves on shaking legs toward the storage room connected to the kitchen. It's small, dark, full of supplies nobody needs. Perfect for hiding. She closes the door quietly and sits between bags of flour and preserved vegetables.
Her heart pounds so hard it hurts. The screams outside get louder. Fighting. Deaths. Blood spilling.
She wraps her arms around herself and tries to be invisible. She's good at that. Three years of practice makes you excellent at disappearing.
The pack house shakes again with impact. Ronan shouts orders in the main hall. Warriors fight back. Wolves die.
And Mira sits alone in the dark, wondering if death will finally be merciful.
Then the storage room door explodes inward.
A massive black wolf stands in the opening, silver eyes glowing. Its fur is soaked in blood. Its teeth are bared. It's the biggest wolf Mira's ever seen.
And it's staring right at her.
This is it. This is how she dies.
The wolf shifts. In seconds, the animal becomes a man. Naked. Blood-covered. Radiating power so raw it stops her breathing.
His silver eyes lock onto hers and Mira sees her death approaching.
She reaches behind her with shaking hands and grabs the first thing she finds.
A kitchen knife.
She holds it up with both hands, the blade trembling so badly it's almost useless. Her voice barely works, broken and terrified.
"Please."
And the stranger's entire body goes still.
His eyes go wide. His breathing changes. Something shifts in his expression.
He drops to one knee.
He kneels before her like she's royalty.
And he whispers a single word that makes no sense.
"Mate."