Chapter One

Lucy's POV

I sat on the balcony of the Royal Pack House, the cool evening breeze brushing against my skin as I gazed at the view stretching out before me. It was a moment of peace in a life filled with turmoil and chaos, and I clung to it as tightly as I could.

The balcony had become my sanctuary during the past two years since I had been brought here—no, forced here—as Daven’s mate.

Daven, the Alpha of the Moongrowl Pack, had destroyed everything I held dear. My pack, the Bloodbath Pack, was wiped out in a brutal attack. He killed my family, my people, and then claimed me, a nineteen-year-old girl, as his prize. Now, at twenty-one, I was still trapped in this gilded cage, shackled by his authority and cruelty. Daven was in his forties, and the power he wielded over me only seemed to grow stronger with time.

I sighed, letting my eyes stay on the view ahead. How ironic that something so beautiful—a setting sun, golden light pouring across the fields—could exist in a world so full of pain and hatred. But even in my stolen moments of serenity, I could never let my guard down entirely.

The sharp knock on the door brought me back to my reality instantly as a maid entered, her posture rigid, her voice soft.

Of course, she could only speak in whispers.

“Alpha Daven requests your presence, Luna,” she said, her eyes avoiding mine.

That was all she had to say to make my mood change. I didn’t need to ask why he had called for me. I already knew. He was going to violate my body again.

“Where is he?” I asked, though my voice felt distant. Cold.

“In his chambers,” she replied.

I nodded, dismissing her with a wave. She left without another word, and I sat frozen in place for a moment. Daven had called me to his chambers twice a week, every week, since the day he took me. But recently, it is becoming more frequent. I hadn’t dared ask him why he called me more often now—questions only brought anger and punishment.

After a long breath, I rose and walked to my wardrobe, pulling out the white robe he had ordered me to wear whenever I was called to come to his chambers. It was delicate and simple, a mockery of innocence. I tied the sash tightly around my waist, as though the act alone could hold me together.

The halls of the packhouse were dimly lit, the silence oppressive. I tried to keep my thoughts elsewhere, focusing on the sound of my footsteps against the wooden floor. But the closer I got to Daven’s chambers, the heavier the dread became, clawing at my chest like a wild beast.

“Lucy!”

The whisper of my name broke through my thoughts, and I turned to see Rosa, one of my people, standing at the edge of the corridor. She looked just as broken as I felt, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Rosa had once been the daughter of a high-ranking officer in the Bloodbath Pack, but now she was a servant in the Moongrowl Packhouse, stripped of her pride and heritage.

We weren’t allowed to interact. It was one of Daven’s many rules. He insisted that the nobles could not mix with the slaves and domestic staff, but that was largely because he would rather not have me talking to my people who he had enslaved.

I considered him weak. He was afraid that letting me communicate with them would mean eventually looking for a way to break out of the captivity he had put us and setting ourselves free from his wicked shackles.

Rosa waved at me hesitantly, her lips trembling as tears streamed down her face.

“It’ll be over soon,” I mouthed to her, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself.

She nodded, wiping her cheeks quickly before disappearing down another hallway. The weight of her sadness stayed with me, making each step I took toward Daven’s chambers feel heavier than the last.

It had been two years but I still remembered the night of the attack vividly. Daven had killed the men in their numbers and the women, he had carted off. It was the only reminder I needed for the fact that he was a monster and there would never be any form of warmth in my heart for him.

I hated him. And always will.

When I reached his door, I paused to steady myself, smoothing down the robe and forcing my face to look neutral. No fear. No emotion. That was the only way to survive this.

I entered without knocking, as he had instructed me to do long ago. Daven was standing by his desk, his broad back turned to me as he flipped through a stack of documents. The scent of ink and leather filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of whiskey. For a fleeting second, I dared to hope that he might be too preoccupied to notice me.

But he did. He always did. Each time he demanded my presence, it was the same thing. He commanded me to do something that I would never have a desire to do and then he'd come to me and force himself on me.

I let myself think that perhaps, this time would be different. He was going to torture me in a different way and not the usual.

But it was hopeless, I realized, when he cleared his throat and then spoke.

“Sit on the bed,” he said without looking up. His voice was sharp and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

“And spread your legs.”

My body froze, but I forced myself to remain calm. As I perched on the edge of the mattress, my hands trembled in my lap. I hated how small I felt in his presence, how powerless I was. Yet, there was the desire to defy him this one time.

“I don’t have all night, Lucy,” he snapped, finally turning to face me. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto mine, and I quickly looked away.