Accused of killing her parents, Celestine's life took a devastating turn. Despite her fervent denials, no one believed her. Convinced of her guilt, they punished her for crimes she did not commit. Her own younger brother condemned her, reduced her to the lowest rank in the pack, and made her a slave. Her existence became a waking nightmare. Now twenty-two, she felt trapped in a relentless cycle of misery, with every glimmer of hope seemingly extinguished.

But one pack gathering changed everything. When Celestine met the ruthless and cold-blooded Alpha Gideon Ironhart, her fate took an unexpected twist. It wasn't in Gideon's plan to take her in exchange for an alliance, but something about the dynamic between the siblings intrigued him. An Alpha and a maid—there was more to their story than meets the eye.

Little did Alpha Gideon know, this encounter would force him to confront his own painful past, mirroring the torment he had tried so hard to forget.

***

Celestine's POV

Cooking had always been my favorite hobby. There was something deeply comforting about the process-measuring, mixing, and creating something with my own hands that would bring joy to those I loved. At seventeen, I felt a surge of pride as I prepared a special meal for my family.

It was a chilly evening at the Ironclaw Pack. I had just finished cooking a rich, savory pasta, my mother's favorite. My heart raced with anticipation as I heard the sound of the front door creaking open. My father, Alpha Sebastian, and my mother, Luna Cyra, had just returned home. I could barely contain my excitement.

"Mom, Dad!" I called out, setting the pasta on the dining table. "I made dinner for us. Please, try it!"

They exchanged warm smiles and took their seats at the table. My father, always so dignified, picked up his fork with a nod of approval. My mother's eyes sparkled with affection as she took her first bite. I watched them with bated breath, eager for their praise.

"This is wonderful, Celestine," my mother said.

Then, my father added, "It's perfect."

I turned to my brother, Soren, who had been watching from a distance. "Soren, try some. I'd love to know what you think."

He shrugged and shook his head. "I'm not really into pasta. I'll pass." As expected, he treated me coldly, yet again.

A twinge of disappointment flickered through me, but I brushed it aside. "Okay, if you say so."

Just as I was about to join my parents at the table, I noticed a change in their expressions. They began to convulse violently, their faces contorted in pain. Blood began to seep from their eyes, ears, and mouth. My heart stopped as I watched in horror.

"Mom! Dad!" I screamed, rushing to their sides. The room was filled with chaos and my own frantic cries. "W-What's happening? Why?"

Their entire bodies arched and twisted unnaturally as if some invisible force was trying to tear them apart from within. My father's chair was upended as he writhed, his face contorted into a grotesque mask of suffering. My mother clutched at her throat, her hands clawing at the air in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the onslaught of pain.

Soren's voice cut through the confusion, sharp and accusing. "What did you do? Was it the pasta? Did you poison them?"

I shook my head desperately, tears streaming down my face. "No! No! It wasn't me! I didn't do anything! Please, believe me!"

The sound of their gasps and choked cries filled the room, mingling with my own frantic sobs. Their bodies slumped, their convulsions fading into an eerie stillness...

--

Suddenly, I jolted awake, gasping for breath as cold water drenched my face. The nightmare had come again, vivid and cruel, leaving me drenched and shivering. I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The familiar, damp scent of the basement where I now slept clung to me. The harsh reality of my new life was a contrast to the warmth I once knew.

Another splash of cold water hit me, accompanied by a sharp, irritable voice. "Why are you still standing there? Are you still not awake?"

I blinked up at the maid, her expression a mix of irritation and indifference. She was one of many who now treated me with disdain, a harsh reminder of my fallen status. I had gone from being a cherished daughter of the Ironclaw Pack to nothing more than a slave, my former life stripped away after that fateful day.

My heart ached as I thought about the drastic change. The warmth and love of my past had been replaced by cold, unfeeling hands. I used to be a princess in my family's eyes, but now, I was a mere shadow of that person. My nights were plagued by nightmares, and my days were filled with the relentless drudgery of my new existence.

I forced myself to stand, my movements sluggish and weary. The maid watched me with a critical eye, her patience clearly wearing thin.

As I worked, my mind wandered back to that night, to the terrible accusations and the bewildering death of my parents. Was it truly my fault? Had I somehow poisoned them? The guilt gnawed at me, a constant, unrelenting presence that I could never escape.

But no... I know I didn't.

CELESTINE’S POV

The days bled into one another. I could no longer clearly remember what happened after that fateful day. The details had become a hazy blur, overshadowed by the raw, unrelenting pain of my loss. What I did remember was the overwhelming grief that consumed me, the way I cried every single day, missing my parents with a desperation that seemed impossible to ever quench.

Mom... Dad, please come back.

Please, save me.

I ached for their embrace, the warmth of their love that once wrapped around me so securely. I yearned for the days when I was just a carefree girl in their eyes.

The accusations from the pack elders had become a dull, persistent hum in the background of my existence. I was numb to their scorn, their harsh words cutting through me like a knife. They called me selfish and cold-blooded, blaming me for the death of my parents just because they wanted my younger brother, Soren, to become the Alpha instead of me. I had become the scapegoat for their grievances, my very presence a reminder of the family they believed I had wronged.

I closed my eyes tightly.

I wanted to shake my head in denial, to scream that I had never cared about being the heir, that I had never wanted the title of Alpha. I simply wanted to be the little girl who could bask in her parent’s love and protection. But my pleas fell on deaf ears. No one wanted to hear my side of the story, my voice was hoarse from the endless crying that had left me drained and defeated.

Soren, only fifteen at the time, was thrust into the role of Alpha with a cold urgency.    As for me, my brother’s wrath was something I had been enduring since then. No matter how hard I cried and told him the truth, he wouldn't listen. To torment and avenge our parents, he made me a slave in our own pack. My duties were the dirtiest and hardest—cleaning, scrubbing, and serving with no respite.

Beatings became a regular part of my existence. My bones were broken and healed more times than I could count, each injury evidence of my suffering. Bruises covered my body, a patchwork of pain that never seemed to fade. The anger and frustration of everyone in the Ironclaw Pack were taken out on me, leaving me as nothing more than a punching bag for their discontent.

To make matters worse, I was without a wolf. At twenty-two years old, I had still not manifested my wolf. My brother had forced me to take poison to suppress the awakening of my wolf, ensuring that I remained the lowest of the low—far beneath even the omega maids.

Without my wolf, I was vulnerable, subject to the whims of anyone who chose to bully or abuse me.

This morning was no different. The maid’s harsh voice cut through my thoughts as she ordered me to hurry. “Hurry up! Get ready! We have important guests arriving soon. You need to serve wine at the gathering.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The maid walked away, her words trailing behind her as she chatted and laughed with another maid.

“I heard an Alpha from the neighboring pack is coming,” one of the maids said, her voice tinged with excitement. “Oh my gosh, I heard he’s so handsome and sexy.”

Her companion laughed and added, “He might be handsome, but didn’t you hear? He’s especially cruel and ruthless. He even killed his parents and all the elders in his pack!”

The other maid gasped, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Goodness, just like Celestine. They both killed their parents. How terrifying these people are!”

The narrative that had been painted for me—of a daughter who betrayed her own family—had become a part of my very being.

THIRD PERSON'S POV

"This is why I want to join your pack alliances..."

The gathering was a grand affair, the Ironclaw Pack’s great hall abuzz with the murmurs and movements of its members and guests from different neighboring packs. The air was thick with tension as Alpha Soren, now a young and troubled leader, engaged in a critical negotiation with Alpha Gideon Ironhart of the Shadowbane Pack. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, as Soren, once the young boy of the pack, now stood as the Alpha of a faltering pack desperate for an alliance.

Under Soren’s leadership, the Ironclaw Pack had grown increasingly weak. Rogue attacks were frequent, the pack’s borders were collapsing, and they had already lost significant parts of their territory. It was clear to everyone that something had to be done, and quickly. That was why Soren was here today—hoping to secure the protection and strength of Alpha Gideon’s formidable pack.

Alpha Gideon, a tall and imposing figure with a reputation that preceded him, regarded Soren with a steely gaze. His presence alone seemed to fill the room, his aura one of undeniable authority and power. Soren, although determined, appeared slightly anxious under Gideon’s scrutinizing stare. His wolf didn't like the intensity of the other Alpha's wolf.

“I only want the strongest packs in my alliance,” Gideon stated firmly, his voice resonating with a commanding tone. “Your pack is very weak. I heard a lot of news about Ironclaw. Why should I accept you?”

Upon hearing that, Soren swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment. “You can name any conditions you want,” he replied, trying to maintain composure. “I’ll agree to them as an exchange.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed slightly, considering the offer. “Any conditions?”

“Yes, any conditions,” Soren affirmed. He was willing to do whatever it took to secure his pack’s safety and restore its former strength. Of course, once that happened he would be a lot more powerful.

At that moment, Celestine walked towards them, her presence barely noticed amidst the tension. She moved with practiced grace, a faint smile on her lips as she carried a tray of wine. She approached the table where Gideon and her brother sat, his dark eyes locked onto her. Her heart raced as she approached, aware of the weight of the authority of the man before her.

As she poured the wine for Gideon, she felt his intense gaze upon her. Startled by his intimidating presence, her hand shook slightly, causing the wine to spill over the rim of the glass. The deep red liquid splashed onto the table and Gideon’s fine clothing.

Gideon’s brow furrowed, a slight frown appearing on his face as he registered the mistake. Before he could address the issue, Soren’s mate, now the Luna of the Ironclaw Pack, reacted swiftly. Talia's eyes flashed with irritation as she grabbed a whip from her side.

"Goodness!"

With a harsh crack, the whip lashed out, connecting with Celestine’s back and knocking her to the ground. The sharp sting of the whip was accompanied by a loud gasp from the assembled guests. Celestine’s eyes widened in shock and pain, her body crumpling as she hit the floor.

The Luna’s voice was cold but laced with a false sweetness as she addressed Gideon. “I’m so sorry, Alpha. This slave is too careless and has dirtied your clothes. I’ll punish her right away.”

The Luna raised the whip again, her intent clear in the way she tightened her grip. Celestine, now on the ground, instinctively covered her head with her arms, her body trembling in fear.

Just as Talia was about to whip her again, a powerful hand shot out and gripped the whip.