Katrina’s POV
"Alpha…please…give me more time, I’ll shift. I can feel it," I begged.
My voice cracked in the silence of the office, hanging there like fragile glass suspended in the air. But the Alpha’s voice came in cold and piercing, devoid of sympathy.
“The full moon is over. And you didn’t get a wolf, Katrina.”
I stood before him, my hands clenched at my sides, my heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it. The polished floors beneath my boots felt like ice, and the grand windows behind him let in moonlight that seemed cruel now—mocking, pale, and distant. I shook my head slowly, but the truth was already settled deep in my bones.
I already knew I couldn’t do anything.
I had known it before I even stepped into his office. There had been no whispers in the back of my mind. No fire in my blood. No shift. The two-week deadline had passed. Tonight was the full moon, and I had failed.
The Alpha leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. The soft creak of the leather made me flinch. His face remained unreadable, carved from years of stoicism, but I saw it—the flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he blinked it away like dust.
"Then you leave me no choice," he said.
My throat tightened like a noose was being drawn around it.
"Effective immediately, you are no longer Gamma. You have been demoted to Omega."
The words struck like a death sentence.
I felt the ground shift beneath me, my stomach plummeting as if the floor had collapsed. My chest tightened painfully, like my ribs were caving in on themselves, crushing me from the inside. The office, once so familiar, suddenly felt foreign. The walls loomed too close. The air grew thick, unbreathable.
Omega.
I had gone from a warrior-in-training, from someone who had trained through bruises, blisters, blood—someone who had fought for a place at the table—to this. A servant. A name without pride. A position without respect.
Stripped of my rank.
Stripped of everything.
"You will begin your duties tonight," the Alpha continued, his tone final, like stone slamming shut. "The Omega quarters will be your new home. You will obey the rules, and you will serve like the others."
My lips parted, but no words came out. I had nothing to say. Nothing I could say would change this. The weight of it settled on my shoulders like chains, thick and heavy.
The Alpha’s gaze sharpened, and his next words sliced through me like a blade.
"Nicholas will take your place as the new Gamma."
My breath caught in my throat, a quiet gasp escaping before I could stop it. Nicholas.
The very name made my skin crawl.
"And Adolphus will be the new Beta.”
A sharp, bitter laugh almost escaped my lips, but it got stuck in my chest, tangled with the pain and betrayal clawing at my ribs.
Not only had I lost my current rank, but I had lost the one position I had been fighting for. I could have been Beta. It had been within reach. I had sacrificed, bled, trained harder than anyone—and still, it had been snatched from me.
Adolphus. It was now Adolphus.
My hands curled into fists. My nails bit into my palms, the pain grounding me against the storm raging inside me.
I should have expected this and yet, it still hurt. More than I wanted to admit. My chest was a battlefield—grief, anger, disbelief, all tearing into each other.
The image of him in Cassandra’s room flashed in my mind, seared into my memory. The way he had looked at her. The way she had looked at him. The space they had shared—the intimacy of it, the secrets wrapped in silence.
My stomach churned, bile rising in the back of my throat.
So that was it? Had he known? Had he been promised the position before I even stood a chance? Had he even thought about telling me? Or had I been nothing but a stepping stone all along?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my expression to remain blank. Hollow.
The Alpha didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. My fate had already been decided. I was no longer Katrina the warrior. I was Katrina the servant.
"Dismissed," he said.
I turned on my heel. The door felt miles away. But I walked. My boots echoed in the silence, each step heavier than the last. And when I reached the exit, I didn’t just leave—I slammed the door behind me.
Because if everything was going to crumble, then I wouldn’t go down quietly.
Not yet.