Bile in her throat

What did I just read?

No name. No signature. I flipped the paper over, it was blank.

Was someone playing games with me? Or… was there really someone out there willing to help me?

But that couldn't be. The whole pack hated me. No one would dare cross Finn. Not for me, at least.

This had to be a trap.

Maybe it was Esther. Maybe she couldn't stand the idea of someone else bearing Finn's child. Maybe this was her way of luring me out, pushing me to run so she wouldn't have to lift a finger. 

She couldn't stop Finn or the council, so now she's trying to push me out on my own. Make me leave. 

It would be clever, I'll give her that.

I clenched the note and forced my thoughts to quiet. The last thing I needed was hope stirring again. Hope was dangerous. 

There was no way out of this. I had accepted my fate.

I shouldn't complicate things.

***

The night air was chilly, creeping through the thin windowpanes and curling around my toes despite the fire that still flickered in the hearth.

I just finished my dinner, barely more than a piece of bread and meat, and now I sat curled on the small bench near the fireplace, cuddling the book Stella brought me from the library.

It wasn't anything special, just something I asked for on a whim, half-expecting her to be turned away. 

The head servant wouldn't normally allow a servant, let alone someone like me, to borrow from the estate's library. But I tried my luck regardless.

Stella stood behind me on the raised platform near the bench, humming a soft lullaby as she ran the brush gently through my hair. Her fingers were gentle. I found comfort in it, even if the book didn't offer the same.

To my dismay, the pages were dull, filled with dry stories about old wars and bloodlines that no longer mattered. It didn't hold my attention. After a few more paragraphs, I gave up and closed it on my lap.

"Do you have a mate, Stella?" I asked, my voice light as I stared at the dim glow of the fire. If I kept reading, I was going to end up with a headache.

She paused, the brush mid-stroke.

"Uh…" There was hesitation, an awkward silence that stretched a second too long. And that told me the answer.

"It's fine," I said quickly, to save her from the discomfort. "Not everyone gets to have a fated mate."

And it was true. The Moon Goddess only gave such bonds to the rarest few. The blessed. The ones the stars smiled on.

Most wolves just chose their mates, and I never thought there was anything wrong with that. Choosing someone with your heart, your logic, seemed more reliable than waiting for a bond you might never have.

Besides, what if your fated mate turned out to be someone you couldn't even stand? A complete stranger. A brute. Someone with no warmth or kindness in them. Would you be expected to stay with them, to endure? 

Because severing a fated bond… that wasn't something easily done. I'd heard whispers about it, but never the details. Just that it came with a price. One too steep for most to pay.

Maybe it cost a piece of your soul. Or your sanity. Or your wolf.

No one really talked about it. Maybe they were afraid. Maybe they just accepted that a blessing could also be a burden.

Fated bonds were said to be the strongest in our kind's history. An invisible thread, spun by the Moon Goddess herself, tying two souls together. Surely she wouldn't bind someone to a mate who would hurt them?

But I wasn't so sure.

In my life, I had met very few who found their fated mate. That's how rare it was. Most wolves grew old with partners they chose for themselves. Some were happy. Some weren't.

Behind me, Stella's voice was quiet. "I dare not ask the Moon Goddess for a fated mate, Miss Vivien."

I tilted my head slightly, listening.

"I could only hope for a warrior to choose me one day," she continued. "So we can lead a humble life."

"So… there is a warrior you fancy?"

The brush stopped. She went still. I could hear the sharp breath she took in, and I could almost feel her panic ripple in the air.

"I-I don't have!"

I smiled to myself, amused by how flustered she became. It was a nice feeling, wasn't it? To like someone. Even if it was just a small, quiet sort of affection.

"I hope your wish comes true, Stella," I said softly. "Truly."

There was a pause. Then a sigh.

"I really… don't…" she mumbled, but gave up halfway through. Her next words were almost a whisper. "Yes. I like someone. But I don't think he would ever notice me."

My smile faded.

Because I knew the truth, even if she didn't say it outright.

Perhaps they could love another omega and find happiness, but those of higher status rarely took omegas as mates.

Stella left not long after our quiet conversation. The room dimmed again, the fire no more than dying embers now. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling above.

I thought I would fall asleep after that.

But the minutes dragged. And sleep didn't come.

I shifted onto my side, then onto my back. My mind wouldn't quiet. The room felt heavier the longer I stayed in it. My thoughts kept circling the same pit: fated mates, the bleak future that waited for me, and other things related to it. 

I couldn't help to wonder if I had a fated mate. But I haven't been so lucky in life, so maybe there was no chance that I was the one of the blessed ones. I'd be fortunate enough if I'd be chosen as someone's mate, but that's impossible to happen here in Levian pack. No one would want a traitor's daughter. 

Eventually, I pushed back the covers and slipped out.

The halls were quiet at this hour. No footsteps. No voices. Just the soft, almost inaudible noise under my toes as I made my way through the dim corridor. I passed the servants' wing and slid the side door open just enough to step out into the night.

The cold nipped at my arms in the garden. None of the guards would stick so near the manor, so I was out of their sight. 

I walked slowly down the stone path, breathing in the crisp air, trying to find some peace of–

I stopped.

A muffled sound reached my ears. A low grunt. Then a soft cry that didn't sound like pain, but didn't quite sound like pleasure either.

I paused, heart suddenly thudding, and looked toward the far end of the garden where the high wall met the hedges, near the old storage shed. A narrow slit of moonlight cut between the leaves.

I shouldn't have looked.

But I did.

Through the break in the hedges, I saw him.

Finn.

He had a maid pressed against the wall, her dress rucked up over her waist, one of her legs hitched around his hip. She was trembling, her hands clutching at the stone as he thrust into her, fast and unrelenting. There was no gentleness to it. No care.

He had one hand fisted tightly in her hair, pulling her head back so her throat was bare. His mouth was at her neck—biting, not kissing. She gasped again, blood trickled down her neck from his harsh bite, but he didn't pause. Just kept driving into her like she was nothing but a body.

A thing to use.

The look in his eyes was what did it. Cold. Detached. 

Like she didn't even matter.

I stumbled back from the hedge, bile rising in my throat.

I didn't remember how I got back inside. Only that my hands were shaking and my vision blurred at the edges. I barely made it to the wash closet down the hall before I dropped to my knees.

The retching came fast, violent. My stomach emptied itself into the basin as I clung to the edge.