Betrayed by the Spotlight

Amara's POV

I was already on my knees cleaning the blood-stained stone floor of the Lycan Pack's great hall before the sun had even risen. The strong soap left my fingertips sore and hurt. As though the pack wanted to constantly remind me of my position, the wolves' strong, overpowering scent permeated the air around me.

"Slave, hurry up!" yelled Greta, a member of the pack's elite. She spoke in a deep, icy tone. "Are you going to be on this floor all day?"

Knowing that answering would gain me more than just words, I chose not to do so. What happened when I dared to resist them was evidenced by the scars on my arms and back.

I looked at the floor instead. Dirty, hollow-eyed, and sporting knotted black hair, my reflection in the pool of soapy water looked back at me. The girl in that reflection was someone I detested. Weak. Sad.

"Do you see that, Greta?" As they went by, one of the other women of the elite said. I could hear them, but their voices grew quieter. "On her wrist." That mark.

I went cold. My left wrist's crescent-shaped scar was the topic of their conversation. I never gave it any thought, even though it had been there for as long as I could remember.

A second person said back, "It means something." "However, what could it"

"Nothing'!" Greta interrupted them with a snap. She scowled down at me as though my very existence was a criminal. In any case, she is a dirty slave. Amara, get back to work!

"Yes, Greta," I said quietly, looking down. I tightened my wrist, concealing the imprint under my dress's frayed sleeve. I didn't have time to think about it, whatever it meant. My only concern was surviving.

Later that night, pack members crowded into the main hall. The Moonlight Ceremony, a celebration of the Lycans' power and unity, took place tonight. I had to serve even though I was not permitted to take part because I was a slave.

I swerved through the crowd, dodging sneers and stinging elbows, while holding a tray of beverages. Excitement filled the air, and I felt unnoticeable.

Then I looked up, which was a mistake.

I saw him at that point. Darius.

Like a king among wolves, he towered above everyone in the middle of the hall. He was hard to miss with his wide shoulders and sharp golden eyes. The Alpha. Strong and invincible. I instantly averted my gaze to blend in with the background as my heart thumped in my chest.

However, my tray slipped as I turned. Wine spilled at his feet as a cup fell to the ground.

The audience became quiet.

I went cold. With all eyes on me, the atmosphere felt oppressive.

"You there," he said in a deep, powerful voice. "Come on over."

As I stepped out into the open, my legs shook. I avoided looking into his eyes and kept my head down.

"I apologize, Alpha," I said. "It happened by accident."

"Observe me," he commanded.

I had no desire to. I was unable to. However, the draw was too great. I experienced it-a sudden surge of warmth, an odd tingle that traveled throughout my body-when my eyes finally locked with his.

My friend.

I kept hearing the word. It was so heavy that my knees almost gave out. This cannot be taking place. Not to me.

His face grew stern. "No."

I felt sick to my stomach.