Chapter 4: The Scent of Humiliation

A handful of allergy suppressants barely kept the reaction at bay. Emilia dragged her exhausted body to the corporate headquarters of the Shadow Claw Pack, the tall glass building a monument to Wesley’s power. The air shifted the moment she stepped off the elevator. The subtle, respectful nods she used to receive were gone. Pack members she’d once considered friendly averted their eyes, their scents sharp with unease and a desire to distance themselves. Only a young intern, a new wolf barely out of his first shift, dared approach her desk. “Emilia,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “I heard from HR… they’re transferring you to the Janitorial Services division. Is everything… alright with you and the Alpha?” Janitorial Services. The pack’s polite term for those who cleaned up after others. Was he trying to make her do the work Sarah had once done? She managed a thin, brittle smile. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” The intern scurried away just as the HR Director, a stern-faced Delta, approached with two enforcers flanking him. “Emilia,” he said, his tone strictly professional. “Per the Alpha’s directive, your position has been reassigned to the Janitorial division, effective immediately.” “Understood,” Emilia said, her voice unnervingly calm. Her compliance was so absolute it seemed to unnerve the Director himself. He’d likely expected a fight. “The Alpha values your years of service,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “I’m sure if you just… spoke with him…” Spoke with him. As if a conversation could erase the taste of that filthy cake from her mouth. She didn’t reply, simply stood and followed the enforcers. The whispers trailed her like ghosts. In the HR office, they handed her a uniform—stiff, dark fabric that smelled of industrial cleaner. “The Alpha specified,” the Delta said, unable to meet her eyes. “You’re assigned to the 28th floor.” The 28th floor. Wesley’s executive domain. A cold certainty settled in her gut. She accepted the uniform without a word. One month, she chanted silently in her mind, a desperate mantra. Just one more month. Changed into the coarse fabric that chafed her skin, she gathered her cleaning cart and rode the service elevator up. The scent of him was everywhere here, his dominance woven into the very air. She had just begun wiping down the sleek hallway panels when a sound from his office made her freeze. A low, intimate laugh, followed by Sarah’s breathy, teasing voice. “Wesley, not here at the office… someone might see.” Wesley’s answering rumble was a vibration she felt in her bones. “There’s no one here but us.” But he knew. He knew she was right outside, on her knees, scrubbing his floor. And he didn’t care. This was a deliberate performance, a new layer of humiliation. She focused on the grain of the wood, trying to block out the sounds of their coupling, the scent of their arousal that now polluted the air. She scrubbed until her knuckles were raw, a futile attempt to cleanse the space of their presence. When the noises finally subsided, Wesley’s voice called out, sharp and clear. “Emilia. In here.” He’d known all along. She pushed the door open. Sarah was fastening the last button on her blouse, her face flushed, the air thick with the musky scent of sex. “Emilia,” Wesley said, as if giving a routine order. “Sarah and I are attending the Northern Territory Alliance gala tonight. You will ensure my office is spotless.” He was not only flaunting her in the company, but now he was parading her before the entire supernatural community. Yet, Emilia’s lips curved into a placid, obedient smile. “Of course.” Wesley looked pleased. Sarah, however, frowned, her eyes darting around the opulent office. “Wesley, I… I don’t have any suitable jewelry for such an event. I’ll look plain. Perhaps you should take Emilia instead. She’s so used to these things.” Every word was a carefully placed thorn. “Nonsense,” Wesley said, his gaze shifting to Emilia with a possessive gleam. “Emilia has that heirloom set. The Sun-Fire rubies. You’ll wear them. You’ll outshine every Luna there.” The blood drained from Emilia’s face. The Sun-Fire set. Her mother’s bridal jewels, passed down through generations. The most precious thing she owned, a tangible piece of her family’s legacy. She had worn it only once, on the day of their ceremonial vows. “Wesley,” her voice was a strained whisper. “You can’t. You know what those mean to me.” “It’s just jewelry,” he dismissed, his ego clearly pricked by her defiance in front of Sarah. He didn’t wait for her consent, punching a button on his intercom. “My assistant will retrieve the set from the penthouse.” It was done. There was no fighting it. She stood there, her hands clenched into fists so tight her short nails threatened to break the skin. He was shredding the last of her connections, one by one. “Fine,” she said, the word hollow. “But I want to visit my mother at the sanatorium today.” “Do what you want,” Wesley waved a dismissive hand, already turning his attention back to a simpering Sarah. As he led her from the office, Emilia stood alone amidst the lingering scent of their betrayal, the polished floor reflecting the shattered pieces of the woman she used to be.