Chapter 1

"Say it." The man ordered me to. His voice was hoarse, and his breath lingered hot against my neck. I bit down hard on my lower lip as my fingers clawed into the bedsheets beneath me. It was too deep. The Cyril Biles in front of me was nothing like the restrained man from earlier. He was like a beast teetering on the edge of a rut. There was no tenderness in his movements, only a raw release and ruthless possession. "Talk, Sylvia." He suddenly grabbed my chin. His grip was so strong it felt like my bones might break. "Aren't you usually good at crying out loud? Tell me—who am I?" I couldn't see anything in the darkness. A black silk ribbon covered my eyes. It was tied in a knot behind my head. "Cyril? You're Cyril." My answer came out shaky as my voice was cracking. Even though it hurt badly, I still forced myself to lift a hand, reaching for Cyril's broad and muscular back. I just wanted to calm him down. I knew the pack had been under pressure lately. The fighting had intensified, and as Alpha, the weight on him was immense. I was just an Omega. I didn’t have a wolf. Aside from this body and the pheromones that could soothe him, I had nothing else to offer. As long as he needed me, as long as I could ease his headaches, I was willing to endure anything. At my answer, he let out a short and low laugh from deep in his throat, but his movements only grew harsher, laced with an inexplicable anger. It felt almost like punishment. Sweat slid down my forehead and soaked into the silk ribbon. The violent movement loosened the knot behind my head, and it slipped free. Light spilled in, and I instinctively opened my eyes. I saw the face above me. It was Cyril's face, with a well-defined nose and a firm mouth, carrying that unmistakable air of authority. However, something was wrong with his eyes. Cyril's eyes were usually a calm gray-blue, composed and unreadable. The eyes staring down at me now were blown wide and bloodshot, burning with fury. This wasn't Cyril. It was Cedric Biles, Cyril's twin brother. He was the one the pack called the mad dog. Fear slammed into my chest. My mouth fell open. Instinct screamed at me to cry out and to shove the terrifying man off me. From a shadowed corner of the room, slow clapping suddenly broke the silence. The sound wasn't loud, but it froze me where I was. I turned toward it and saw Cyril sitting there. He wore a neat black shirt that was buttoned all the way up to the collar. In one hand, he held a glass that was half-full of red wine, his long fingers idly swirling it as he watched with a calm and detached expression. My mind went blank, and a low ringing filled my ears. What was actually happening? Was Cyril here too? Had he been here the whole time? "That already came loose?" Cyril took a sip of his wine. His gaze didn't linger on my naked body at all. Instead, it flicked to the black ribbon at my throat. With a trace of mockery in his eyes, he said, "Looks like next time I'll have to tie a proper knot." He set the glass down and propped his chin on his hand, clearly bored, then spoke to Cedric, who hovered over me. "Since she's seen it, there's no point pretending anymore." He added calmly, "Cedric, hurry up. Don't delay what actually matters." Every word pierced my ears, shredding the part of my heart that had loved him so humbly and desperately. So this was it. To Cyril, I wasn't even a hidden lover. I was just… a toy shared between the two brothers. Cedric no longer bothered suppressing his voice. That identical face twisted into a vicious grin. He grabbed my throat, forcing my head up so I had to look at him. "See it clearly now?" he whispered into my ear, malice dripping from every syllable. "Every time I fucked you until your eyes rolled back and you screamed 'Cyril'—didn't this body feel especially useful, huh?" I wanted to vomit. My stomach churned violently, but I couldn't make a sound. His fingers were locked around my throat, leaving me only able to make hoarse and broken gasps. I didn't understand why. For three years, even without a name and status, I had stayed by Cyril's side willingly. I used my blood as medicine for him. I fought off my exhaustion night after night to massage his head. I thought… Well, I thought he cared—even just a little. Cedric didn't give me time to think. With a brutal thrust, he finished, releasing hot, white liquid inside me. Then, he pulled out and shoved me aside without hesitation. "Disgusting." He frowned in distaste, grabbing a corner of the sheet to wipe his fingers. My hands trembled as I tried to find my clothes on the floor. In my panic, my fingers brushed against a stiff paper bag. Inside were the knee guards. It had taken me a full month to make them. I had pricked my fingers countless times with the needle and even spent all my remaining savings to buy good beast hide. Cyril had sustained an old injury to his knee, causing it to always hurt whenever it rained. I had wanted to surprise him. "Cyril…" Tears blurred my vision. My voice was hoarse as I tried to ask, to understand. "Why…" The man on the sofa finally stood. He walked toward me with long strides as his leather shoes thudded heavily against the floor. He stopped in front of me and looked down. Then, an overwhelming pressure crashed on me. "Get on your knees!" It was an Alpha command. As the leader of the pack, his orders were absolute law to low-ranking werewolves. My body moved against my will. My knees slammed hard into the floor. Pain exploded through them, but I couldn't even bend down to clutch them. I could only kneel there as I was forced to look up at him. Cyril lifted his foot and kicked the paper bag over. The gray knee guards rolled out. "What's this?" Cedric walked over while fastening his belt, then stepped onto them, grinding his heel down hard. "Are these for Cyril? You really think something sewn by a filthy Omega like you deserves to touch an Alpha's legs?" He bent down and patted my face, which was soaked in sweat. "Know where you stand, Sylvia. Your only value is that your blood and fluids can ease pain. "Otherwise, why would Cyril or I ever touch you? Don't flatter yourself. And don't covet things that were never meant for you." They finished dressing quickly. Cyril fastened his cufflinks, his expression returning to its usual distant and untouchable calm. "I'll be marrying Elena Hunter as my Luna next week. She is my mate." His voice was steady, as if he were discussing the weather. "As for whatever shameful thing this was between you and me, I don't even want a whisper of it before the Luna's coronation ceremony. Elena is frail. She can't handle any form of stimulation." Elena Hunter was the daughter of one of the pack's great families. She was gentle and noble—the so-called crush of many werewolves. My heart went completely cold. Even the pain faded into numbness. "To keep her from causing trouble at the ceremony… or disturbing Elena," Cedric suggested as he adjusted his tie, his smiling gaze lingering on my neck and lips. "Cyril, how about we lock her in the dungeon? Or maybe cut out her tongue? "That'd be safer. If she says the wrong thing in front of Elena, it'd get us into trouble." I shrank back in terror. Cyril was silent for a moment, then turned toward the door. "Just keep an eye on her," he replied, pulling it open, his back as cold as his voice. "Don't kill her. Her blood is still useful. It might even serve as medicine for Elena."