One afternoon, I was in the main hall, mopping the floor near the long, heavy table where the warriors took their meals. I kept my head down, my hair falling around my face, hoping to remain invisible. But I could feel him before I saw him—Alpha Lucas. His presence was like a pressure in the air, thick and heavy.
“Stop,” he commanded, and his voice cut through the room like a blade. My hands stilled, the mop slipping from my grasp.
He was staring at me, his eyes cold and full of loathing. “How dare you stand there with her face?” he growled, his voice low, like a rumble of distant thunder. “How dare you breathe with the face of my Gloria?”
I dared not speak. I dared not move. But he stepped closer, his hand reaching out and grabbing my chin roughly. He tilted my head up, forcing me to look at him. His eyes bored into mine, searching for something he would never find.
“You think you deserve to live with that face?” His grip tightened, nails digging into my skin. “You think you can just walk around, reminding me of what I lost?”
“I didn’t choose this,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t ask to look like her.”
His eyes flared with rage, and he shoved me backward. I stumbled and fell hard against the floor, the breath knocked out of me. “Then hide it!” he snapped. “Hide it or I’ll rip it off myself!”
I stayed on the ground until he left, the pain radiating through my body, but I made no sound. If there was one thing I had learned here, it was how to keep quiet when every bone in my body wanted to scream.
---
The days turned to nights, and the nights to more days of hell. But one night was different. That night, Lucas had drunk more than usual. His eyes were glassy, his movements unsteady as he slumped in his chair at the head of the long dining table. I could smell the liquor from where I stood at the entrance, holding a fresh jug of wine.
“Nadia!” he barked, his voice slurred. “Bring me more!”
I hurried over, careful not to spill a drop. As I approached, his eyes settled on my face, and something flickered there—something beyond his usual anger. His lips parted, and for a moment, he seemed lost, trapped in a memory.
“Gloria…” he whispered, his voice breaking like fragile glass.