Chapter 4
The room fell silent as my claws dug into Elder Cordelia's throat. Her eyes widened in shock—no one had ever dared touch a Council member this way.
Before I could tighten my grip, a vice-like hand closed around my neck from behind. Gideon's scent—expensive cologne and cold fury—washed over me as he yanked me backward.
"Control yourself," he hissed in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
I struggled against his grip, but his fingers only tightened. "She insulted my mother!"
"And you've embarrassed us all," he growled, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that made my wolf whimper.
With a swift motion, he turned me to face him, his hand still locked around my throat. The ballroom had gone completely silent, hundreds of eyes watching our confrontation.
"Kneel," Gideon commanded, his Alpha Voice crashing over me like a physical wave.
My knees buckled against my will, my body betraying me as I dropped to the polished floor. The blue gown pooled around me, and I felt something tear as I fought against the command.
"I apologize for my mate's behavior," Gideon announced to the room, his voice carrying effortlessly. "She is clearly poorly bred and in need of proper training."
Humiliation burned through me as whispers rippled through the crowd. Bonnie stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
"The Omega quarters would be more suitable for her tonight," she suggested sweetly. "Until she learns her place."
Gideon's fingers dug deeper into my neck as he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "You've made your choice, Margo. Now face the consequences."
* * *
The Omega quarters were located in the basement of the pack house—a stark contrast to the luxury above. Concrete walls wept with moisture, and the air reeked of mildew and despair.
"Home sweet home," the guard sneered as he shoved me through the door.
My designer gown had been replaced with a gray shift that scratched against my skin. The silver collar around my ankle had been supplemented with heavy chains that limited my movement to a few feet in any direction.
I sank onto the narrow cot, my wolf uncharacteristically silent within me. Usually, she raged against confinement, but now I felt only emptiness where her presence should be.
"Your dinner," a timid voice whispered hours later.
I looked up to see a young Omega—no more than sixteen—slipping a plate of scraps through the bars of my cell. Her eyes were downcast, her movements nervous.
"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.
She startled at my words, as if no one had spoken to her kindly in years. "I'm Tally," she whispered. "I clean the Council rooms."
I devoured the meager meal, watching her fidget with her apron. "What's happening upstairs?"
"The Council meeting," she said, her voice barely audible. "They're voting tonight. On your assets."
My head snapped up. "What?"
"Your bloodline rights," Tally explained, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "They're transferring them to Alpha Hughes tonight. My master said it's a formality now."
The food turned to ash in my mouth. Tonight. They were doing it tonight.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
Tally's eyes finally met mine, and I saw a flicker of defiance there. "Because no one should be treated like property."
* * *
I waited until the guard's footsteps faded down the corridor before acting. The shard of glass I'd hidden in my palm had drawn blood, but it was worth it.
With careful movements, I sawed through the chains binding me to the wall. The silver collar around my ankle was another matter—it would take more than glass to break that.
When the guard returned, I was ready. As he unlocked my cell door, I lunged forward, driving the shard into his temple. He crumpled without a sound.
I stripped his uniform, tearing it into strips to bind his wrists and gag him. His keys gave me access to the service stairs that would lead me back upstairs.
The silver collar burned against my skin as I climbed, each step sending waves of nausea through me. Blood dripped from where I'd tried to pry it loose, leaving a trail of red footprints behind me.
Instead of heading for freedom, I turned toward the Council Room. If they wanted my bloodline rights so badly, I would give them something to remember me by.
The corridor outside the Council Room was deserted—all available guards had been posted elsewhere, confident in my imprisonment.
I pressed my ear against the heavy oak door, hearing voices within. Elder Cordelia's distinctive cold tone carried through the wood.
"...and once the transfer is complete, we can proceed with the next phase."
My hand closed around the door handle as rage flooded through me. They had taken everything from me—my freedom, my dignity, my future.
But they would not take my revenge.
With a snarl of defiance, I shoved open the door, blood dripping from my ankle onto the polished floor as I faced the shocked Council members within.
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