She woke with a gasp; the scream caught in her throat before it could escape. Her heart thundered in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged pulls. The nightmare had been too real: Luther’s hands, his voice, the helplessness that never left her even in sleep.

Sweat clung to her skin, dampening her tangled hair and the filthy blanket beneath her. Her body was sore and slick, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was still bleeding.

But the pain was dull now. A low, steady throb across her back, no longer pulsing with fresh fire. The salve had helped. She reached back carefully, fingers probing along her spine. Crusted blood and deep, raised welts met her touch. No fresh wetness. That was something, at least.

The small basement window showed nothing but a thin strip of indigo sky. Still dark. Still time before the others would wake.

She pushed herself up with a groan, knees trembling beneath her. Her body protested every movement, but she forced herself to the corner of the room where the old utility sink was. She knelt beside the loose panel in the wall and pulled it back with care, her fingers moving by habit even though they ached.

The half-bottle of water. The sliver of toothpaste. Her toothbrush bristles were nearly flat and flaring outward. She examined it with a frown. It wouldn’t last another week, maybe not even another day. She’d need to find a new one. And a bar of soap. She had stolen one at least three months ago, using it sparingly to make it last longer. And she never went into the communal shower, not anymore. She had attempted to only once and had gotten her fingers broken for it. She would have to sneak them from the storage room.

She wet the brush, applied a dab of toothpaste smaller than a fingernail, and began scrubbing her teeth with slow, careful strokes. The taste helped chase away the bile rising in her throat. The routine, small as it was, gave her something to hold onto. Something that was hers.

When she finished, she rinsed her mouth and the toothbrush, drying them on her sweater before placing everything back in its hidden space.

She stayed there for a moment, crouched low, arms wrapped around herself. Her breath was still shallow. The silence around her gave her a small moment of peace, of pretending it was safe.

Today would be hard. She was always late waking up after nights like this. She’d need to move quickly. She couldn’t afford another mistake. Her eyes drifted to the top of the stairs.

There was still time. She would make it. She had to.

Luther

Luther sat at the head of the long wooden dining table, the early morning sun beginning to stream in through the high windows. The smell of hot food filled the room with bacon, eggs, sausage, the usual fare. He reached for a piece of toast, then paused.

Blueberry muffins.

Fresh, warm, just like the ones she’d made weeks ago, the ones he’d mentioned last night. And beside the platter of muffins, a tall jug of apple juice.

So, she listened. Of course, she did.

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, arms stretching lazily across the backrest. She finally got something right. Took her long enough.

But he wouldn’t praise her. Not out loud. That would be a mistake. People like her, things like her, needed to remember their place. One kind word, and she might start thinking she was worth something. Might start thinking she mattered.

She didn’t.

She was his. A shadow. An echo. A reminder that obedience could be taught, carved into bone if needed. He couldn’t let up. Couldn’t give her a moment to breathe too easily. Not even now. Especially not now.

He picked up a muffin, broke it open with one hand, steam curling up from the moist, purple-streaked center. His appetite stirred.

Gabrielle slid into the seat beside him, brushing her fingers along his arm. Her scent was sweet, like spiced apples and morning dew, blessed by the Moon Goddess herself with grace and beauty. His mate. The one everyone admired. The one he was supposed to cherish. He didn’t tell anyone that he didn’t feel what he was supposed to for her. He didn’t feel that pull, that instant connection. He had to Trash, though. The moment he saw her when he was eleven. More so when he was thirteen.

But he did what was expected of him, being with Gabrielle. He kissed her cheek and took a bite of the muffin.

Perfect.

He chewed slowly, keeping his expression neutral. A few other pack members filtered in, some still half-dressed, others already gossiping. He heard someone laugh about the juice incident yesterday. About how she’d probably paid for it.

Luther’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She had. And she'd bled for it.

He swallowed the bite, savoring the power that came with it.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice calm but cold. “Enough.”

Everyone quieted.

He looked around the room, but his mind was on Trash, imagining her still too sore to move but fighting through it to make sure everything was perfect, done right. Too scared to forget him.

Good. He poured himself a glass of juice, the sound slicing through the hush of the dining room. Let her think she’d pleased him. Let her cling to that illusion. Hope was a cruel thing, and he intended to strip it from her inch by inch.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Not now. Not after he ascended. When he took his father’s place and Gabrielle stood beside him as Luna, Trash would still be his, kept in the shadows, tethered to him in the only way that truly mattered. He planned to mark her the moment he became Alpha, binding her to him permanently. She would wear his claim, whether she wanted to or not.

He didn’t believe she had a mate. The Moon Goddess wouldn’t waste her blessing on someone like her. She was a mistake, a blemish, a creature of dirt and silence. No, she belonged to him because he’d made her that way. Because she was the only one who had ever seen the real him, the raw, unpolished truth beneath the golden heir. He let her see it, so the rest of the world never would.

With his parents constantly traveling off on diplomatic missions, summits, and alliances across the globe, the burden of leading fell to him early. It was exhausting, maddening. Trash became his outlet, the release valve for every pressure threatening to boil over. Better she suffered than his pack.

And when he took the title for good, he’d tighten the leash even further. She would never leave. No mate would find her. No future waited beyond the walls he built around her. He’d make sure of it.

Gabrielle twirled the keys around her finger, her manicured nails catching the morning light streaming through the wide pack house windows. “Come on, babe,” she cooed, stepping closer to Luther and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “You promised you’d take me into town today. There’s a new boutique and I need something new for the summit dinner. You want your Luna to look like a goddess, don’t you?”

Luther smirked, his eyes dragging lazily down her body. Gabrielle always knew how to play her part, charming, radiant, and adored. The Moon Goddess had made it easy when SHE paired them. No one questioned his path to Alpha with Gabrielle at his side.

He slid an arm around her waist. “Fine. But I’m not spending three hours while you try on the entire store.”

“You love it,” she said, flicking his chest with a grin before glancing at the dining table. “And you saw she made the muffins.”

Luther didn’t reply. He didn’t have to.

Just then, Cassian strolled in, stretching with exaggerated boredom. His Beta-to-be, who had a permanent smirk like the world was a joke and he was in on the punchline.

“Morning, lovebirds.” He dropped into a chair, snatching a piece of bacon off a plate. “Hey, what the hell did you do to Trash this time?” he asked, laughing like it was nothing. “Saw her slinking through the hall like a kicked dog. Her face looked like it had met a wall. Twice.”

Luther didn’t flinch, didn’t even look up as he poured more juice into his glass.

“She needed a reminder,” he said flatly. “She’s getting sloppy.”

Cassian chuckled, unfazed. “Well, it worked. Pretty sure even the shadows flinch when she passes. That girl’s got the vibe of a ghost that knows it’s not welcome.”

Gabrielle snorted. “She’s just lazy and resentful. I told you she dropped the juice yesterday on purpose. She knows what she’s doing. It’s always when we have guests or something important, she tries to make him look bad.”

Luther leaned back in his chair, a dark glint in his eyes. “Doesn’t matter what she tries. She’ll learn her place. She always does.”

Cassian nodded with a shrug. “Good. The last thing we need is some broken, half-feral kitchen rat throwing off the mood when the elders arrive.”

Gabrielle brushed an imaginary lint off Luther’s shirt. “Let’s go. I want to stop at the tailor’s too; maybe find something in that Moonlight silk they had last spring.”

As they left, Luther cast one last glance towards the kitchen. A shadow of movement caught his eye quick and small. Let her listen, she needed to fully understand what she was and who he was to her. She had fourteen fucking years to learn, fourteen years of him teaching her and she still caused trouble.

She needed to know, he wouldn’t accept it, not then and certainly not now.