My new life routine is simple.
Wake up every morning before the sun rises. Cook and feed everyone in the oga lodge—both male and female. Clean when everyone leaves for the day. Do the piles of laundry. Lunch, thankfully, isn't my problem—but it also ans I don't get to eat. And then, of course, dinner, and more cleaning.
There are other staff who work at the oga lodge, but unlike , they're proper oga wolves. Anything they don't feel like doing lands on my shoulders, and if I don't get them done, it's sohow my fault.
The first week of my new lifestyle ended with being whipped five nights straight.
It isn't a normal punishnt for shirking your duties. They just wanted an excuse to do it.
It wasn't a secret that many of the pack hated having a human brought in, when Alpha first adopted . Like , they lived in ignorance of my mother's identity. I'm sure they would have recognized her if they saw a picture, but I don't have anything like that. Only my mories.
It wasn't until the night of the Mate Hunt, when Alpha kicked out of his ho and family, that the pack learned the truth.
Mom was once mated to Alpha. Not as a proper Luna, of course. Mom, like , was human. But she still bore his mating mark and was treated as his mate within the pack—until one day she disappeared, never to be seen again. From the gossip running rampant these days, I quickly learned that everyone thought she was dead.
My father—my real father—is also my biological father. They were killed in a house invasion gone wrong on my twelfth birthday. Three days later, I was taken in by a supposed family friend: Alpha.
His apparent care and warm ho were more appealing than any foster ho, even if I had to live among wolves.
If I'd known, I would have begged the foster system to keep , but I doubt it would have made a difference. I had a ho to go to, and soone willing to foot the bill. Why would they keep in that situation?
I sigh, my hands sinking into the mountain of clean laundry before . The scent of detergent tickles my nose as I sort through the pile, grimacing at the sheer number of boxers. n's underwear. Great.
"At least they're clean," I mutter, folding each pair with quick, efficient movents.
My fingers brush against the soft cotton, and I can't help but think of Xander. Did I ever fold his laundry? Of course not. That was a task reserved for the pack's dostic staff, not Alpha's daughter.
But I dread of being his wife. His mate. Dread of doing the laundry, of greeting him at the door with a ho-cooked al.
Now here I am, reduced to handling strangers' intimates.
I shake my head, banishing thoughts of my ex.
Focus on the task at hand, Violet. One pair at a ti.
The basket marked 'Jason' slowly fills with neatly folded clothes. T-shirts, jeans, socks, and yes, those dreaded boxers. I smooth out a wrinkle in a shirt, wondering idly about the man who wears it. Is he kind? Cruel? Does he even know my na?
Probably not. To most of the pack, I'm just the human. The outsider. The one who doesn't belong.
I place the last item in Jason's basket and set it aside, ready for delivery. A small victory in a day full of endless chores.
"Human girl! Get up here!"
The shrill voice of the head oga cuts through the air, echoing from the kitchen.
My feet drag as I make my way to the kitchen, dreading whatever new task awaits . The linoleum floor creaks under my weight, announcing my arrival before I even reach the doorway.
The head oga is a stern-faced woman nad Piper. She dresses like a secretary, with a black suit and hair pulled back into a classic Pip, and always with a phone in hand. She's also burly enough that, if I was asked with a gun to my head, I would have assud her to be a bear shifter.
While I was still Alpha's daughter, she treated with respect.
Now, I'm dirt beneath her shoe.
"There you are," she says, her tone clipped. "You're needed at the main lodge. They're short-handed."
"Yes, ma'am." I've learned to treat her with respect; she's the one who orders my punishnts at the end of the night. I've watched as she ordered ten lashes, five nights in a row. Her expression never changed.
This woman wouldn't care if I died of exhaustion, as long as my work was done.
She looks over, her lips pinched in disapproval. "Is that all you have to wear?"
Glancing at my oversized hoodie and sweatpants—one of my three outfits these days—I can only say, "Yes."
She sighs, clearly frustrated. "You'll need to find sothing else to wear. Wearing that reflects poorly on Alpha."
I blink at her words, the only outward evidence of my surprise. Since when do any of these wolves care? They've been mocking since my downfall, saying human trash doesn't even deserve the clothes on my back.
Piper grimaces, shooing away. "I'll find you sothing. For now, help them at the main lodge."
* * *
Arriving at the main lodge is a bit of a nerve-wracking affair.
Being holed up at the oga lodge buried beneath a mountain of chores had one bright side: I never had to worry about running into Xander.
Being in the main part of town, where all the wolves gather, increases that risk exponentially. I have no desire to run into him, either alone or with Nora. My heart's still wounded and bleeding; it doesn't need to be torn apart any further.
The air outside the oga lodge crackles with an unfamiliar energy. Our small werewolf city, usually a picture of serene efficiency, now buzzes with frantic activity. Wolves dart to and fro, their movents urgent and purposeful. The central garden, once a lush oasis of tranquility, lies in ruins. Dirt flies as workers tear up flowerbeds and uproot shrubs with ruthless efficiency.
What in the world…?
The giant main lodge looms ahead, and I quicken my pace.
"Violet!"
I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. That voice. No. Please, no.
But luck, as always, isn't on my side. From the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of golden hair. Xander. And beside him, dark hair gleaming in the sunlight, Nora. Two picture-perfect mates, arm-in-arm.
I don't wait to see more, rushing for the front doors of the main lodge. I burst through the entrance, chest heaving in relief, only to collide with a wall of muscle. Stumbling back, I look up into Beta's scowling face.
"Watch where you're going, human," he growls, lip curling in disgust.
He used to pat my head and tell everything would be okay. Used to—
Ugh. No point in dwelling in mories of false care.
"I'm sorry. Piper sent —"
"I don't care what that oga wants," Beta cuts off. His eyes narrow, sweeping over my disheveled appearance. "But since you're here now, make yourself useful."
Before I can protest, he turns and barks at a nearby wolf. "You there! I've got soone to help you move those bushes."
"What?" I gasp, but Beta's already shoving toward the door. "Wait, I—"
"Get to work," he snarls, and suddenly I'm outside again, blinking in the harsh sunlight.
A burly wolf grabs my arm, dragging toward the ravaged garden. "Co on, we don't have all day."
I stumble after him. From a random errand to doing manual labor I'm in no way equipped to handle. Aweso.
Just another day in the life, I guess.
It's clear no one cares what I'm supposed to be doing. To them, I'm just another pair of hands. Expendable. Replaceable.
The wolf releases with a grunt, gesturing at a row of uprooted bushes. "Start hauling these to the compost pile. And be quick about it."
I stare at the bushes, my stomach sinking. They're enormous, their root balls easily the size of my torso. There's no way I can lift these on my own.
"Is there so sort of equipnt for this, or—"
He snorts. "Equipnt? Just lift it up and take it over."
Yeah, that's about what I expected.
They know I'm human; they have to realize this task is just about impossible. But he storms off to do sothing else in the raucous atmosphere of the garden renovation.
Gritting my teeth, I bend down and wrap my arms around the nearest bush. Branches and leaves stab at my face as I struggle to lift it.
It doesn't budge.
Panic rises in my throat. If I can't do this, they'll punish . Or worse, throw out entirely. And then where would I go? I'm an adult now. There's no program in the human world to save from holessness and a lack of money.
I'm educated—if you count a werewolf high school diploma as educated.
But that's about it.
I try again, straining with all my might. My muscles scream in protest, but slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the bush lifts off the ground.
"That's it," a gruff voice says behind . I guess he's back. "Now move it to the pile."
Sweat drips into my eyes as I stagger forward, the bush's weight threatening to crush at any mont. Each step is a battle, my arms trembling with the effort of keeping the massive plant aloft.
After what feels like an eternity, I reach the compost pile. With a gasp of relief, I let the bush tumble from my grasp.
"Good," the man grunts. "Now do it again."
I turn back to the garden, my heart sinking at the sight of the dozens of bushes still waiting to be moved. This is going to be a long, painful day.
As I trudge back to grab another bush, movent near the lodge catches my eye. Xander and Nora stand on the steps, watching the activity in the garden. Watching .
Nora's lips curl into a smirk as she leans in close to Xander, whispering sothing in his ear. Whatever she says makes him laugh, his eyes never leaving my struggling form.
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