Chapter 3: Drunk

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My heart forgot how to beat. I could only stare, frozen in place, as the crowd around us dissolved into stunned whispers. Their voices blended into a blur, the noise muffled by the pounding in my ears. I felt like I was standing in the center of a storm. My eyes moved from one of them to the other. Kael’s brows were drawn, his jaw clenched, as though he hated the words that had just left his mouth. Damon stood stiff as a statue, his eyes stormy with confusion. And Rowan... Rowan’s gaze was the hardest to read. Still. Silent. Watching me like I was some ancient puzzle that had just begun to solve itself. Was I dreaming? Part of me wanted to scream for joy. If this was true, then maybe I was finally free. No more scrubbing floors until my fingers bled. No more stolen food and cold, dark closets. No more cruel laughter echoed behind me wherever I went. I could be free. But the other part of me, the part that had survived years of cruelty, didn’t trust this sudden turn of fate. Why would they accept me? Me, the pack’s weakest link? The one everyone spat on? Why didn’t they reject the bond like so many Alphas had in the past? Why did they accept me? Before I could make sense of anything, Rowan spoke. "Take her to the East Wing. She stays in the palace now." My eyes widened. A pair of maids hurried over and bowed before him. I could see the surprise written across their faces, too, though they tried to hide it. I stood slowly, my legs trembling. I didn’t know whether to feel honored or hunted. As the maids led me away, I caught one last glance at the triplets. They were still staring at me. All three of them. Like I had just turned their world upside down. Like they didn’t know what to do with me. The East Wing of the palace was unlike anything I’d ever seen up close. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling like stars. The floors were polished so well that I could see my pale reflection staring back at me. Every corner of the corridor whispered of wealth, power, and history. I was accustomed to seeing this side of the palace from a distance, cleaning its borders and polishing silver from the outside. I never imagined I’d walk these halls like someone who belonged. The maids opened a heavy door and gestured for me to step inside. The room was bigger than the entire quarters I used to sleep in with my father. There was a soft-looking bed with fluffy white sheets, a golden-framed mirror, and a bathtub big enough to swim in. I stepped in slowly, afraid it would vanish if I blinked too hard. "Someone will come by with clothes, you bitch!" one of the maids said angrily. I nodded wordlessly, still trying to grasp the reality. They left, closing the door behind them. I stood in the middle of the room, arms folded around myself, unsure whether to cry or laugh or collapse.Correct content is on . But the silence didn’t last. The door burst open, slamming against the wall with a thunderous crack. Belinda. She stormed in, her heels clicking like angry thunder across the marble floor. Her hair was curled into perfect waves, her lips blood-red with fury. "You," she spat. Before I could speak, her hand shot out. Slap. My head snapped to the side. The sting bloomed across my cheek, hot and sharp. "You little worm!" she hissed. "You think you can steal what’s mine? You think you can just walk into the palace and take my place?" I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My ears rang. My body froze. "I’ve worked for years to become their Luna. Years! And you? You just show up with your dirty hands and ragged clothes and expect everyone to believe this fate-mate nonsense?" Her eyes gleamed with something dark. Something feral. "I don’t care what the Goddess says," she whispered, stepping closer until her face was just inches from mine. "You’ll never be Luna. You’ll always be a servant. A nobody. And if you think this palace is yours now, think again. I’ll make sure you regret the day you ever walked into this palace." She turned and left, slamming the door so hard the mirror rattled. I stood there, one hand to my cheek, breathing hard. The tears finally came, hot and fast, but I didn’t sob. I let them fall quietly, one by one. I wasn’t used to people hating me for being wanted. All my life, I was hated for being nothing. Now, I was hated for being something. I walked slowly to the edge of the bed and sat down. My body felt heavy, my head spinning. The velvet sheets beneath me were softer than anything I’d ever known, and yet, I had never felt more out of place. My eyes wandered around the room, trying to focus on anything other than the ache in my heart. That’s when I noticed the cup on the small table by the window. Clear glass. Cold water. It hadn’t been there earlier. Maybe one of the maids brought it in before leaving. I hadn’t even noticed. Thirst scratched at my throat. My mouth was dry, my lips cracked. I stood up shakily, still hugging my arms around myself, and crossed the room. The glass trembled slightly in my hands as I picked it up. For a moment, I stared at the water, watching how the faint light from the chandelier danced across its surface. Maybe this would help. Maybe it would calm me down, ground me. I tipped it to my lips. Cool relief rushed down my throat. I drank all of it, not stopping for breath. Then... A sharp chill sliced through my spine. My fingers lost their grip. The glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. The world tilted. My knees buckled. The edges of my vision darkened, curling inward like burnt paper. My breath hitched once, twice, and then stopped. The room spun. And then.... Nothing. Darkness swallowed me whole.