I move between delegates with practiced invisibility, my tray balanced against trembling fingers. Both packs fill the room with tension thick enough to choke on, their hatred barely concealed beneath diplomatic smiles.

Alpha Paul’s gaze finds me the moment I enter.

The weight of his attention presses against my skin like a physical touch, following my every movement across the polished floor. I keep my eyes down, but my body betrays me, hyperaware of exactly where he sits at the head of the table.

Sarah drapes herself over his arm as usual with possessive elegance, her fingers trailing across his sleeve.

“You must try the wine from our eastern vineyards,” she purrs, leaning close enough that her lips nearly brush his ear.

He shifts away from her touch, the movement subtle but unmistakable. His jaw tightens with barely concealed disgust, and Sarah’s smile falters for just a heartbeat before she recovers.

I pour wine for one of the Blood Ridge delegates, forcing myself to ignore the strange pull that tightens in my chest whenever I glance toward Paul.

He only helped me through a panic attack, I remind myself. That doesn’t mean anything.

“The Omega population has become quite the burden,” Alpha Richard announces, his voice carrying across the table with casual cruelty. “Worthless creatures, most of them, contributing nothing to pack strength.”

Alpha Paul’s eyes flash dangerously, cutting toward me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

I see the moment he forces himself to look away, his hands flattening against the table with deliberate control. The reaction confuses me more than his attention ever could.

Why would a comment about omegas make him look at me like that?

The meeting breaks for refreshments, and I slip into the hallway, desperate for air that doesn’t taste like politics and barely contained violence.

Two figures block my path before I reach the servants’ corridor.

Mira and Claudette, Sarah’s closest companions, their smiles sharp as broken glass.

“Poor little Morgan,” Mira coos, backing me toward the wall. “Did you think you’d escape notice forever?”

“Sarah has such wonderful plans for you after the wedding.” Claudette examines her nails with theatrical boredom. “The breeding program for unmated omegas is always looking for fresh stock.”

The words pierce through me like ice, and terror floods my veins.

Breeding program.

The whispered horror stories I’ve heard from other servants, the women who disappeared and never returned whole.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I manage, my voice thin and unconvincing.

“Don’t you?” Mira laughs, her hand pressing against my shoulder, pinning me in place. “Unmated omega she-wolves serve one purpose in this pack, and Sarah has generously volunteered you for the honor.”

Claudette leans closer, her breath hot against my cheek. “You’ll spend your heat cycles servicing whatever males the pack chooses, over and over, until you’re used up completely.”

My vision blurs at the edges, then silence falls. Both women freeze, their expressions shifting from cruelty to pure terror as a shadow falls across us.

Alpha Paul stands behind them, his presence radiating deadly promise without a single word spoken.

“Leave.” His voice is quiet, controlled, infinitely more threatening than any shout.

They flee without looking back, and I sag against the wall, gasping for air that won’t come.

He’s on me in seconds, his massive frame caging me against the plaster, blocking out everything except his face and his scent and the fury burning in his pale blue eyes.

“What did they say to you?” His hands grip my shoulders, firm but not painful. “Tell me exactly what they threatened.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, unable to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Morgan.” His finger hooks beneath my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “Tell me now, or I will hunt them down and extract the information myself.”

The absolute certainty in his voice breaks through my resistance.

What’s mine.

He’s nothing like the man who held me through the panic. Which version is real?

“Her.” He points directly at my face, and every head in the room turns to follow his gesture. “The servant with the dark auburn hair, I want her as part of the arrangement.”

Whispers explode through the hall, shock rippling outward like stones thrown into still water.

“Consider her a wedding gift,” Alpha Paul continues, his expression revealing nothing. “She’ll serve as my personal slave.”

Sarah’s face contorts with confusion and jealousy, her eyes darting between me and her intended with dawning horror.

“This is outrageous!” Alpha Richard rises from his chair, his face mottled with fury. “You insult my pack by requesting a disgraced servant as your gift?”

“No insult intended.” Paul’s smile holds no warmth. “Simply a preference for her… particular abilities.”

“I will offer you any other servant, any gift you desire.” Father spreads his hands in diplomatic appeal. “Why would the great Alpha of Blood Ridge want worthless property?”

“Then there will be no wedding.” Paul rises slowly, his full height commanding the room. “No treaty, no peace, my men and I will leave within the hour.”

Silence crashes through the hall like breaking glass.

“Your pack can enjoy another decade of war,” he continues, straightening his cuffs with casual indifference. “The choice is yours, Alpha Richard.”

I cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot process the impossible scene unfolding before me.

He’s using me as leverage. But for what purpose?

Murmurs spread through the crowd—war means more death, more widows, more children growing up without parents. Father’s eyes find mine across the chaos, and I watch calculation replace his initial outrage.

He weighs my worthless life against his pack’s survival, and I know what the scales will reveal.

“Well then. Take her.” His face twists with familiar disgust as he looks at the daughter he’s hated for eleven years. “She’s worth nothing to us anyway. But be sure—we won’t tolerate any connection above serving with our pack’s punished traitor.”