Blake POV:
The tray in my hands felt heavier than usual, but not because of the champagne glasses. It was the weight of the lie I was living.
I adjusted my collar, making sure the small, flesh-colored patch on my neck was secure. Three years. That was the deal I made with my father. To live as a commoner, to let my late-blooming wolf stabilize away from the political vipers at court, and-foolishly-to see if my Fated Mate loved the girl, not the crown.
To the world, and specifically to the Shadow Creek Pack, I was Blake, the wolfless runt. A defect. An Omega who hadn't shifted at eighteen.
In reality, my inner wolf was pacing in the back of my mind, scratching at the mental walls I had built. She was a White Wolf, a creature of legend and royalty, the daughter of the Lycan King. But here, in the Velvet Lounge, I was just a waitress wiping tables.
Don't embarrass me tonight, Blake. We have investors coming. The Redstone deal is critical.
The voice echoed in my head, sharp and intrusive. Connor Bishop, the Alpha of Shadow Creek and my fiancé, sounded more stressed than usual. He'd been obsessed with these new "foreign investors" for weeks, ignoring the warnings from the border patrols about increased Rogue activity.
I'm doing my job, Connor, I replied, keeping my mental tone submissive. I'm invisible.
Good. Keep it that way.
He cut the link abruptly. The silence that followed was worse than the scolding.
The Velvet Lounge was the pride of the Shadow Creek territory. It was where the high-ranking wolves mingled with wealthy humans who remained oblivious to the predators in their midst. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, roasted meat, and the underlying, musky odor of wolf pheromones.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors swung open with a bang.
A hush fell over the room. Walking in was a woman in a dress so pink it hurt my eyes. Jaden. She wasn't high-born, but she walked with the arrogance of a Luna. She had saved Connor's sister years ago, earning a "Blood Oath"-a sacred promise of protection that she exploited every single day.
She didn't wait for the host. She marched right past the security, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor.
Mark, the floor manager, rushed forward. Mark was a Beta, a mid-ranking wolf who bowed to power. He practically tripped over himself to get to her.
"Miss Jaden! What a surprise. We have the VIP booth ready," Mark said, his voice dripping with oil.
Jaden didn't look at him. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on me. A cruel smirk twisted her lips.
"I don't want the booth," she said, her voice carrying over the music. "I want service. Proper service. Not from some wolfless cripple."
I froze. I was wiping down table four. I kept my head down, scrubbing a non-existent spot.
Jaden walked up to me. She smelled of synthetic vanilla and rot. She pulled her car keys out of her purse and dropped them. They clattered onto the floor, right next to my shoe.
"Park my car," she ordered.
I stopped scrubbing. "I'm a waitress, Jaden. Not a valet."
The room went silent. An Omega talking back to a protected guest? It was unheard of.
Jaden laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on my nerves. "Did the runt just speak? Mark, does your staff not know their place?"
Mark stepped in, his face red. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep. "Pick them up, Blake. Now."
"I am busy," I said through gritted teeth. My inner wolf let out a low growl, vibrating in my chest. I clamped down on it instantly. If I growled, if I showed any dominance, the suppressor might fail.
"Connor wouldn't like you upsetting his guest," Mark hissed in my ear. "Do you want me to call him? Do you want him to come down here and see you failing him again?"
I felt a sting of tears. Not from fear, but from frustration. I opened the Mind-Link again.
Connor. Jaden is here. She's making a scene. Mark is forcing me to-
Just do what she says, Blake, Connor's voice came back instantly, impatient and dismissive. She's important to the pack. Stop being difficult. It's just a set of keys.
She is humiliating me, I projected back.
You are humiliating yourself by being so sensitive. Deal with it. I'm in a meeting.
The link went dead.
I looked at the phone in my pocket. My hand trembled. My wolf, usually so composed, let out a whimper of pure disappointment. It wasn't sadness. It was the realization that the man destined to be my other half was hollow.
Slowly, I bent down. I reached for the keys.
Jaden kicked them just as my fingers brushed the metal, sending them skittering under a table.
"Oops," she grinned. "Fetch."
Blake POV:
The humiliation burned hotter than the alcohol serving station. I had retrieved the keys, handed them to a valet, and returned to my station, my face burning. I wanted to leave. I wanted to shift and tear this place apart. But I had made a promise to myself: I would only reveal my true self to a man who loved Blake the girl, not Blake the Princess.
It seemed that man did not exist.
"Table seven needs a special," Mark barked at me as I passed the bar. "Jaden says the champagne is flat. She wants the 'Silver Mist' cocktail. Extra hot."
My stomach dropped. The Silver Mist was a gimmick drink, heated to a near boil and served with dry ice.
"Mark, I have other tables," I tried to argue.
"Do it, or you're fired. And if you're fired, Connor kicks you out of the pack house. Where will you go then, runt? The streets?"
I gritted my teeth and went to the bar. The bartender handed me the steaming glass on a tray. I could smell the acrid scent rising from it.
I walked toward the VIP section. The hallway was dimmer here, lined with plush velvet curtains. It was a blind spot for the security cameras.
Jaden was waiting for me. She wasn't at her table. She was leaning against the wall in the narrow corridor, blocking my path.
"You look pathetic in that uniform," she sneered. "Connor deserves a real wolf. A Luna who can give him strong pups. Not a genetic dead-end like you."
"Move, Jaden," I said, my voice steady. The tray was hot in my hands.
"Make me."
She stepped forward. I tried to step around her, but she was quick. She feigned a stumble, lurching toward me.
"Oh no!" she cried out, her voice fake and loud.
Her hand shot out, not to catch herself, but to strike the bottom of the tray.
The glass tipped.
Time seemed to slow down. The steaming, sticky liquid splashed over the rim. It didn't hit the floor. It hit my left hand.
"Ah!" I gasped, dropping the tray. It shattered with a deafening crash.
Pain. Absolute, blinding white pain.
This wasn't just hot liquid. As the steam cleared, I smelled it-the metallic, sulfurous scent of liquid silver concentrate. It was illegal to serve to wolves. It was poison.
Silver doesn't just burn a wolf; it stops the healing process. It eats through the skin like acid.
I clutched my wrist, falling to my knees. Smoke rose from my skin. My flesh bubbled and hissed. My inner wolf screamed in agony, thrashing against my skull.
"Help!" Jaden shrieked, backing away and pointing a manicured finger at me. "She attacked me! She tried to throw the drink in my face!"
Footsteps thundered down the hall. Mark appeared, followed by two security guards.
"What is going on here?" Mark roared.
"She's crazy!" Jaden sobbed, squeezing out crocodile tears. "I told her I didn't want her serving me, and she snapped! She tried to burn me!"
I looked up, sweat dripping down my forehead. "She... she hit the tray. It has silver in it, Mark. It's silver!"
Mark looked at my hand. The skin was red and raw, the burn deepening by the second. He could smell the burning flesh. He knew. Any wolf could smell the difference between a scald and a silver burn.
But Mark looked at Jaden, who was holding the "Blood Oath" pendant around her neck.
He turned back to me, his eyes cold.
"Clean this mess up, Blake," Mark spat. "You clumsy, vindictive Omega. You're lucky Miss Jaden is too kind to press charges."
"My hand..." I whispered, the pain making me dizzy.
"Go to the kitchen and put some ice on it. And stay out of sight. You're bad for business."
I stared at him. The injustice settled in my chest, heavy and cold, extinguishing the fire of my hope.
I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I stood up, cradling my mangled hand, and walked past them toward the kitchen.
My suppressor patch was peeling slightly from the sweat. My scent-the scent of winter storms and ozone-leaked out just a fraction. Mark frowned, sniffing the air confusedly, but I was already gone.
I had a debt to collect. And the interest was going to be high.
Blake POV:
The kitchen was a chaotic symphony of clanging pans and shouting line cooks, but the back prep area was quiet. I ran my hand under cold water, but it didn't help. The silver residue was already in my bloodstream, preventing the cells from knitting together.
"You need wolfsbane salve to draw out the metal."
The voice was deep, rumbling like a subterranean earthquake.
I turned. Austin Gordon, the head chef, was standing by the walk-in freezer. He was a massive man, over six-foot-five, with scars running down his forearms and eyes as dark as obsidian. He was a Rogue-a wolf without a pack-hired by Connor because his food was the best in the city.
But he didn't move like a cook. He was currently plating a dish with the surgical precision of a field medic or a sniper, placing garnish with tweezers that looked like toys in his massive hands.
Most people were terrified of him. He radiated a silent, lethal pressure.
"I don't have any," I said, my voice shaking.
Austin didn't speak. He reached into his pocket and tossed me a small tin. I caught it with my good hand.
"Apply it. Wrap it," he commanded. It wasn't an Alpha Command, but it carried natural authority.
Before I could thank him, the swinging doors burst open.
Jaden marched in. She looked out of place among the stainless steel and grease. She wrinkled her nose.
"It smells like wet dog in here," she complained. She walked right up to the pass, where Austin was plating a steak.
"This is medium," she said, poking the meat. "I wanted medium-rare. And put some caviar on it. The expensive kind."
Austin didn't look up. "No."
Jaden blinked. "Excuse me?"
"The steak is perfect. Caviar ruins the balance. Get out of my kitchen."
Jaden's face turned purple. She pulled out her phone. "I am going to have you fired. I am calling Connor right now!"
She hit the video call button. I expected it to go to voicemail, given Connor's important meeting. But seconds later, the line connected. Connor wasn't at the head of the table; he was in the hallway, looking harried and annoyed, clutching a stack of files.
"Jaden, I told you, I'm with the Redstone reps," Connor hissed, glancing over his shoulder.
"Connor!" Jaden wailed, turning the camera to her face. "They are bullying me! First your waitress tried to burn me, and now this Rogue cook is refusing to feed me!"
"I don't have time for this," Connor snapped, rubbing his temples. "Just give her what she wants so I can go back inside."
"Put Blake on," Connor ordered.
Jaden turned the camera to me. I was clutching the tin of salve, my hand wrapped in a towel stained with yellow pus and blood.
"Connor," I said, holding up my hand. "She used silver. Look at this."
Connor saw it. I saw his eyes widen. He knew what silver meant. For a second, I saw guilt. But then Jaden sobbed loudly, "I'm scared, Connor! She's looking at me like she wants to kill me! And Mark said she was threatening the guests!"
Connor looked back at the closed meeting room door. He was losing patience. He needed this problem to disappear so he could secure his funding.
His face hardened.
"Blake," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The air in the kitchen suddenly grew heavy. The gravity seemed to double.
"Apologize to Jaden. On your knees. Now."
It was the Alpha Command.
A wave of compulsion slammed into me. It was a physical force, trying to buckle my knees. My muscles spasmed. The biological imperative to obey the Alpha was woven into our DNA.
Austin stopped chopping. He looked at me, his knife hovering in the air.
My knees bent. The pain was excruciating. But then, something else surged.
My blood. The blood of the Moonstone line. The blood of Kings.
An Alpha does not bow to a fool.
I gritted my teeth. I locked my legs. I shook violently, sweat pouring down my face as I fought the Command. It felt like my bones were going to snap.
But I did not kneel.
I stared into the camera lens, my eyes burning.
"No," I whispered.
Connor looked shocked. An Omega resisting a direct Command? It was impossible.
"I said kneel!" he roared.
I reached out and tapped the 'End Call' button on Jaden's phone. The screen went black.
The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Jaden looked terrified. She had expected me to collapse. Instead, I was standing taller than before.
I turned to Austin. The suppressor patch on my neck was itching unbearable. It was done. The charade was over.
"Chef," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Lock the door."
