Grace felt a pang of loneliness gnaw at her, a deep ache in her heart begging for someone to love her. Wolves weren't meant to be alone, and she felt this isolation keenly. Chris knew how she felt, and his indifference only deepened her pain. As she wandered through the maze-like corridors of the manor, she wrapped her icy arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill that had settled in her bones. Her Betas bowed to her out of respect—or more accurately, out of obligation—shooting nasty glares behind her back. The lower ranks shared the same disdain. Everyone hated her.
She avoided being in her room because Chris kept bringing in those sluts. With nothing to do, she often loitered aimlessly in the manor.
She paused at a grand window, gazing out, and spotted Chris heading into the woods with his two new Betas in tow. She sighed deeply. She didn't like those two; they had a sneaky and sinister look about them. A sudden droplet of water on her cheek pulled her from her thoughts. Blinking, she wiped it away and looked up to see a boy scrambling down the metal stairs.
"Forgive me, Madam Luna," he spluttered, fear evident in his eyes.
She wasn't in a bad mood, fortunately for him, or she might have ripped out his throat as she had with that omega female. But she was done with killings for the time being.
"Never mind, boy," she replied, moving past him towards the door.
He frowned, puzzled. Odd, he thought. Grace usually created a ruckus over such silly mistakes.
"Wait, Madam Luna," he called after her, catching up.
She turned to face him. "Yes?"
"How come you didn't punish me?" he inquired, curiosity lacing his tone.
"Do you want to be punished, mutt?" she asked, her voice sharpening with anger.
He stepped back, shaking his head. "N-no, Madam..."
She sighed, sick of the formalities and fake respect. "Grace," she corrected, "my name is Grace. Don't call me Madam Luna again."
He even had the decency to crack a smile. She sighed as her heart took an unexpected flip. He wasn’t bad looking. In fact, he was quite handsome with his perfectly chiselled face, tall frame, and broad shoulders. He had blond hair and blue eyes, just like her. She shook her head to dispel the thought.
"My name is Martin," he introduced himself, extending his hand.
She nibbled the inside of her lip, feeling a flicker of hope. She didn’t have any real friends, and the atmosphere in the manor made her feel alone and afraid. There was no harm in trying to make one. She shook his warm, firm hand, feeling a jolt of electricity at the touch. She took a deep breath, wondering if it was just her. He seemed unaffected, and she felt a little disheartened.
"Why are you cleaning the windows? That's omega work," she asked.
"I’ve been asked the same thing," he replied with a grin, dipping his sponge into the water-filled bucket. "I was just helping my mum."
Grace didn't know that Martin was Amelia and Scott's adopted son, his biological parents having been killed in the previous war.
"That's nice of you," she said, her heart aching as she thought of her own mother. She missed her more than she had ever imagined. Even if she wanted to visit, she couldn't bear the vulnerability it would expose, nor risk her father's fury. He may despise her, but she was still his blood.
Martin dismissed the compliment. "This is nothing." He was sensitive to others' feelings and could sense Grace's sadness. He was perplexed by her obvious depression. He had heard that she was arrogant and loved bullying others, but he couldn't see that side of her at all.
"Are you busy, Grace?" he asked, watching her.
"Why are you asking?" she snapped.
"I believe you haven't travelled far from the manor, right?" he asked, pausing. "And as a result, you haven’t seen the most beautiful parts of this pack."
She snorted but then stopped herself, considering his offer. He was the first wolf to show her kindness. If she turned him down, she might never see him again. Plus, when Chris returned, he'd likely bring one of his whores, forcing her to see their disgusting displays of sex. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.
"You’ll show me around?" she asked with a shaky smile.
"For sure," he said, picking up the bucket and the metal stairs. "We’ll leave as soon as I put these things back."
"Here, let me help you with that," Grace said, grabbing the bucket.
He gazed at her as if she were crazy. "You’ll help?"
"I'm not that bitchy, Martin," she said, rolling her eyes.
"As you wish, Grace," he said with a shrug, chuckling.
He was amused by her unexpected behaviour. He had never envisioned this side of her and was curious about what else she might be hiding.
They walked together through the corridors, their conversation lightening the air. Grace felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time in ages, she wasn't completely alone. As they stepped outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the manor grounds.
Martin led her through the gardens, pointing out various plants and flowers, explaining their significance and uses. Grace listened intently, her heart warming at his knowledge and enthusiasm.
"You're quite the botanist," she remarked, genuinely impressed.
"My mom taught me a lot," he replied, smiling. "She has a real knack for it."
Grace felt a pang of envy. She missed having someone to share her interests with, someone who cared. They continued their walk, the conversation flowing easily. Martin showed her a hidden path that led to a small, serene pond surrounded by weeping willows.
"This is beautiful," Grace said, her voice soft with wonder. She had no idea there was a pond so near the manor.
"It's one of my favourite spots," Martin said, his eyes shining with pride. "I come here to think and relax."
They sat by the pond, the peacefulness of the place seeping into Grace's soul. She felt a sense of calm she hadn't experienced in a long time.
"Thank you, Martin," she said quietly. "I needed this."
"Anytime, Grace," he replied, his voice gentle.
As the evening turned into night, they made their way back to the manor. Grace felt a glimmer of hope for the future. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to navigate her lonely world with the help of a friend.
"Where have you been ?" Chris drawled when he saw Grace enter the room. He was sitting by the bar again, drinking.
"None of your business !" She snapped without looking at him.
"You have got some nerve, bitch !" He said it angrily.
"Not as much as you," she muttered. "Go fuck your whores, don't waste my time," she said sarcastically, throwing her coat on the couch, and walked inside.
He lunged at her and grabbed her arm. Grace yanked her arm away and firmly stated, " Leave me alone."
He tightened his grip, and his face contorted in anger as he whispered.
"Are you frustrated, Grace ? Do you want me to fuck you ? Do you want me to slam you into the wall and fuck you until you scream like a motherfucking banshee? Is that what you want, Grace ?"
"Fuck you!" she pulled her hand back, ready to land a blow, wanting to wipe that smug look from his face.
"Oh no, you don't!
His hand closed on her wrist before she could land the slap. He pushed her back against the wall behind him with his body. He raised her hand above her head and then captured the other one and held both in one of his much larger hands, pinning them both to the wall as she tried in vain to pull them back.
She struggled against him, her feet and knees a blur, trying to get a shot in. He pressed her hard, the cold wall rough against her back.
"Do that again, and you'll regret it," he growled, his grip tightening on her wrists.
"Fuck you! Let me go, you asshole. Let me freak. Go!"
Grace accentuated each word with a strong tug of her immobilised hands.
His breath was coming hard as fast as he looked down into her eyes. With anger blazing, he dipped his head and kissed her. Hard. She bit her lip, tasting blood. Their teeth scraped as he pushed his tongue into her mouth.
His free hand moved to the front of her dress and yanked. She heard the material tear as he ripped her dress to shreds. He quickly dipped his head and captured one of her now bared breasts between his lips.
"Fuck you!" It was more of a moan as Grace felt his teeth against her hard nip. He bit hard, and she arched, pushing more of her breast into his mouth. "Fuck you!" she screamed loudly as pain mixed with pleasure when he released one and moved to the other.
"You like that, you little bitch, don't you?" he lifted his head and mocked.
"You fucking asshole!"
"You are all wet, Grace; I can feel it."
"Please, stop," Grace begged, trying to push him away.
To her relief, he stepped away. She staggered, supporting herself against the wall, her chest heaving with fear and adrenaline.
"Look at you naked and turned on like a slut," he sneered. "But that's all you will be getting, Grace; you will only have frustration. Because you're nothing but a pathetic whore," he added with a cruel smile before turning and walking away, leaving Grace feeling violated and humiliated.
She collapsed and cried, feeling empty and broken.