CHAPTER 28: CHAPTER 28: WHAT A SLAVE ENDURES

Selene’s POV

A knock stirred me from the edge of sleep. It was soft and hesitant.

Then the door creaked open, and a small girl stepped inside. She couldn’t have been older than ten—thin, with big brown eyes and a nervous look that said she didn’t want to be here either.

She didn’t say good morning. She didn’t ask how I was.

She just looked at the floor and whispered, "You’re expected to return to your duties."

And then she left. That was it...like she was running for her dear life.

I sat there for a moment, the words settling around me like cold mist. My body ached everywhere, muscles sore and stiff from bruises layered over bruises. It hurt to move. It hurt to sit still. It just... hurt.

But I got up anyway.

I didn’t cry. There were no tears left this morning.

Somehow, I already knew this would happen. I didn’t blame Mariam. She was the one who gave the order. She was the one who sent the girl. But I knew she was also following the order from above.

This was just how it was.

A slave doesn’t get time to heal. Not when her body isn’t hers to begin with.

And I was a slave.

No one had to say it aloud.

I was already lucky. Mariam had stayed with me at all and had offered warmth when the world had gone cold. I would never forget how she held me when I broke apart. But that moment was over. The world didn’t stop turning just because I had.

I washed myself in silence, every movement a slow, burning reminder of what had been done to me. I saw the faint bruises in the reflection—finger-shaped marks on my arms, a shadow under my jaw. I didn’t touch them. I didn’t try to hide them.

I ate the little breakfast...bread and watered-down porridge. It tasted like ash, but I swallowed every bite.

Because if I didn’t eat, I didn’t know how I would gain strength to survive in this place one more day.

And I walked back into the halls like nothing had happened.

No one looked at me. Just another girl in a plain blue dress, holding a bucket and rag.

I moved from room to room like a ghost, scrubbing the floors, dusting the shelves, and wiping the windows.

But inside... a storm raged.

Because something had cracked open in me last night.

And I couldn’t seal it back.

I couldn’t breathe here anymore.

I couldn’t stay.

I had always known life as a slave was cruel—but last night proved something worse. That cruelty had no limit. That I wasn’t safe, not even from those who shared my race. That yesterday might only be the beginning.

I had seen the way the werewolves treated the human slaves. As toys. As things. Beaten, bred, discarded. And I had always thought, at least I’m one of them. At least I’m wolf-blooded.

But last night... I realized that meant nothing.

Here, I was still prey. And it was only a matter of time before they came again.

So I moved through the day on stiff legs, teeth clenched through the pain, pretending. Pretending I was whole. Pretending I didn’t remember their faces. Pretending I didn’t feel like vomiting every time I passed a shadow too quickly.

Until I heard the voices.

Two maids talking at the end of the hallway, their words barely whispers.

"Did you hear? The prince arrived this morning... before sunrise."

My blood froze.

I stopped walking. So, Prince Vaelen. He really came.

I don’t remember walking away from there... But somehow, I ended up in a completely different part of the estate with a broom in my hand. One of the omega maids had spotted me wandering in the hallway and, without much of a word, handed over her task and disappeared—just like that.

She left, and I was left behind with a broom in hand, cleaning up her unfinished work. But I didn’t refuse. My mind was already somewhere else, too occupied to care.

Until I heard footsteps.

Not the heavy rhythm of patrolling guards. These were measured and calm. The kind of steps that didn’t need to rush, because the world would wait.

I crouched behind a wide stone pillar, heart thudding against my ribs as a guess began to form in my mind. My hands trembled as I clutched the broom like a weapon I didn’t know how to use. I should have walked away. Should have kept moving, head down, eyes lower.

But I didn’t.

And then... I heard him.

"Lady Meriya..."

His voice...it was just as smooth and clear as she remembers.

Prince Vaelen.

It struck me like a blade to the chest. My knees went weak, my breath catching in my throat. He was here.

The corridor suddenly felt colder. My bruises burned beneath my skin. His voice carried authority. Just like it always had been.

I remembered the way he used to speak to me. Not like a prince, but like a boy who wanted to understand. Who leaned in when I spoke of legends. Who laughed, not out of politeness, but because he meant it.

We had shared whispers under twilight trees. I had let myself believe he saw me not as the daughter of an alpha, not as a political pawn...but as Selene.

And now?

Now I was just a slave hiding behind stone, too broken to be seen.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.

Other voices joined his.

Lady Meriya.

Of course she was here. Always the perfect Luna candidate. Always smiling where it counted. Her aunt was a queen herself, making her bloodline blessed and throne-bound.

And her shadow, as always, was Arlena...trailing just behind with that sugary, clipped voice echoing through the corridor. She smiled so wide that it looked like her makeup might crack at any moment.

I remembered both of them far too well.

Lady Meriya had despised me even before the massacre. She saw me as a stain on noble soil—wild, savage, unworthy. And Arlena? She hated me because I had what she wanted.

I was the one Prince Vaelen was once promised to.

The one he had walked beside during royal banquets. The one he had listened to in gardens full of moonlight. The one chosen by him.

And now... I was the forgotten girl in rags.

I should have looked away. Should’ve walked off before they could see me. But I couldn’t move.

Because then I heard him speak again.

"I heard Selene is also here."