IN LOVE WITH THE ALPHA

Maya was seven years old when she became an orphan.

She didn't remember much about that night. Only pieces remained in her memory: her mother's trembling hands, her father's voice telling her not to be afraid, the smell of smoke, and the sound of someone crying.

After that night, everything changed. Maya had no family left, no home, and no one waiting for her.

She was brought to the Silver Moon Pack house, where she was told she would be taken care of. At seven years old, Maya believed them. She thought someone would protect her.

She was wrong.

Instead of being treated like a child, she was given chores. At first, they were small-carrying dishes, folding clothes, sweeping floors, and cleaning tables. But as the years passed, the chores became heavier.

By the time Maya was twelve, she was already working from sunrise until late at night. By fifteen, she had stopped expecting anyone to ask whether she was tired.

Now, at twenty-three, she knew exactly what she was.

A servant.

A slave, even if nobody used the word aloud.

And the Silver Moon Pack house was the only home she had ever known.

"Maya!"

She nearly dropped the bucket in her hands.

"I'm coming!" Maya called as she hurried down the hallway.

Selena Hart stood outside the dining room with her arms crossed. Selena was the Beta's daughter. She had grown up surrounded by comfort, while Maya had grown up serving people like her.

Selena looked at the bucket in Maya's hands. "Why are you still carrying that?"

"I was cleaning the west hallway," Maya replied.

"I told you to clean the dining room."

"I finished the dining room."

Selena pointed toward the floor. "Then why is that dirty?"

Maya looked down. There was barely a mark.

"I'll clean it again," she said quietly.

"Of course you will."

Maya knelt and began scrubbing. Selena watched her for a moment before speaking again.

"You're too slow."

Maya continued scrubbing. "I'll be faster."

"You always say that."

Maya kept her eyes on the floor. Arguing with Selena never ended well.

Selena turned away. "And after this, wash the dishes."

Maya stopped scrubbing and looked up. "There are already people in the kitchen."

Selena looked back at her. "Did I ask you to explain?"

Maya immediately lowered her head. "No."

"Then do what you're told."

Selena walked away.

Maya watched her leave, her fingers tightening around the cloth. For a second, anger burned inside her. She wanted to stand up. She wanted to tell Selena that she wasn't worthless, that she wasn't stupid, and that she was tired of being treated like she didn't matter.

But the anger disappeared as quickly as it came.

Maya knew better.

She had learned that lesson when she was seven. People like her didn't get to complain. They survived. That was all.

Hours passed as Maya moved from one chore to another. She washed dishes, handled the laundry, cleaned rooms, carried food, and then returned to cleaning again. Her hands were sore, but she didn't stop.

When she finally finished the last task, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

Just for a moment.

"Maya."

Her eyes opened immediately.

Selena was standing at the end of the hallway again.

"What are you doing?" Selena asked.

"Resting."

Selena laughed. "Resting?"

Maya straightened. "I've finished everything."

"Then you can help me with something."

Maya sighed quietly. "What?"

Selena handed her a pile of clothes. "Take these upstairs."

Maya stared at them. "Now?"

Selena raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good."

Maya took the clothes, and Selena turned to leave. Then she stopped and looked back at her.

"You should be grateful."

Maya looked at her. "For what?"

"For having somewhere to live."

The words struck harder than Maya expected.

Selena continued, "If the pack hadn't taken you in, you'd probably be dead."

Maya's expression changed, but she said nothing.

Selena walked away.

Maya looked down at the clothes in her arms. Maybe Selena was right. Maybe she should be grateful. She had no parents, no family, and no other home. The pack house had given her somewhere to sleep.

But sometimes Maya wondered if there was really a difference between being given a home and being trapped inside one.

That night, Maya sat alone in the tiny room she had been given years ago. It wasn't really a bedroom. It was an old storage room that had been cleared out when she was seven. There was a small bed, one wooden chair, and a cracked mirror.

That was everything.

Maya looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the little girl she used to be-the seven-year-old who had been scared and alone, waiting for someone to tell her that everything would be okay.

No one ever did.

Maya touched the edge of the mirror.

"I survived," she whispered.

It wasn't much.

But it was something.

She lay down and pulled the thin blanket over herself. Tomorrow would be another day of work, another list of orders, and another day of being invisible.

Or so she thought.

Because the next morning, something would happen inside the Silver Moon Pack. Something that would change the routine Maya had known for sixteen years.

Something big was coming.

And this time, Maya wouldn't be able to hide from it.