Chapter Two: The Alpha’s Command

Charlie jolted awake to the feeling of someone shaking her shoulder roughly. She blinked, confused and disoriented in the darkness of her small room. Her thin blanket was yanked away, leaving her exposed to the cool night air.

“Get up,” a deep, commanding voice growled above her. Charlie’s heart sank as she recognized the Alpha’s voice, despite her sleepy state.

Greg stood over her, his large frame casting a shadow that loomed in the dim light. His dark eyes glinted with impatience, and his jaw was set in a hard line. Charlie scrambled to sit up, her body still heavy with exhaustion from the previous day’s work.

“Clean up the mess from last night,” Alpha Greg ordered, his voice harsh and unforgiving. “Every scrap, every bit of dirt—everything. The pack will be up at seven, and breakfast better be ready, or you won’t eat at all. Do you understand?”

Charlie nodded quickly, her hands trembling as she pushed herself to her feet. The Alpha’s presence filled the small room, suffocating her, making it hard to breathe. She was about to step past him when her fatigue slowed her down just enough to test his patience.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Alpha Greg growled. Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. His fingers dug into her flesh painfully as he yanked her toward the door. The force of the movement made her gasp in pain, but she bit her lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

“You don’t have time to be slow,” he hissed, his grip tightening. “Now get moving.”

Charlie nodded frantically, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled forward. She could feel the heat of Greg’s fingers biting into her skin, and she knew there would be bruises left behind in the shape of his grip. He released her with a sharp shove, and she nearly tripped over her own feet as she rushed out of the room.

The hallway was dark and silent, the rest of the pack still fast asleep. Charlie moved quickly, her heart pounding in her chest as she made her way to the dining hall where the remnants of the celebration lay scattered. The mess was worse than she’d expected—half-empty plates, spilled drinks, and broken decorations littered the tables and floor. She swallowed hard, pushing the pain in her arm to the back of her mind.

She grabbed a broom and a dustpan, starting with the shattered glass from clumsy guests. Her hands shook as she worked, the memory of Greg’s rough treatment still fresh. His grip had felt like iron on her delicate skin, and she could already feel the familiar sensation of bruises forming on her arm.

But there was no time to dwell on the pain. She had four hours to clean up every trace of the night before and prepare breakfast for the entire pack. She couldn’t afford to be slow, not if she wanted to avoid further punishment. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but the promise of food was a distant hope—one that she knew would be withheld if she didn’t meet the Alpha’s demands.

The minutes ticked by painfully slow as she swept and wiped, scrubbing down tables, picking up discarded plates, and putting away the leftover food. Her body screamed in protest, her muscles aching from the constant strain. She moved as quickly as she could, but exhaustion slowed her steps, and her limbs felt like lead.

By the time she finished cleaning the dining hall, nearly two hours had passed. The night air had long since turned cold, seeping into the pack house and chilling her to the bone. But she couldn’t stop now. There was still the outside to take care of—the area where the wolves had gathered to drink, laugh, and celebrate.

Charlie stepped outside, shivering slightly in the early morning air. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. Empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the ground, remnants of the pack’s merriment scattered like debris.

She worked in silence, her breath puffing out in small clouds as she moved from one spot to the next, picking up every last piece of trash. Her mind was numb with exhaustion, her body running on nothing but sheer willpower. She pushed herself through the pain, through the gnawing hunger in her stomach, focusing only on getting the task done before dawn broke.

When the final scrap of trash had been cleared away, the sky had begun to lighten with the first hints of dawn. Charlie’s heart raced as she glanced at the time on the clock on the wall—six-fifty. She only had ten minutes left before the pack woke up.

She grabbed a pan and quickly set it on the stove, her hands fumbling as she reached for the eggs. She barely had time to take a breath before she started cracking them into the pan, the sound of sizzling filling the large kitchen. Her fingers worked rapidly, whisking and stirring, but her mind was elsewhere—caught in the whirlwind of the past few hours.

The pain in her arm throbbed with each movement, but she ignored it, focusing only on the task in front of her. The pack would be waking up soon, and she had to have breakfast ready by the time they made their way downstairs.

But time was slipping away faster than she could work, and the pressure was suffocating. She barely noticed the door to the kitchen opening until a shadow fell over her.

Charlie froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she saw Luther standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

It was five minutes to seven.

“Still not done?” Luther’s voice was low, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. His dark hair was tousled, and he was dressed casually in a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, but his presence was no less intimidating. He had the same dark, piercing eyes as his father, but there was something else there—something that sent a shiver down Charlie’s spine.

“I-I’m almost done,” Charlie stammered, her hands shaking as she turned back to the stove. She tried to focus on the eggs in front of her, but she could feel Luther’s eyes on her, watching her every move.

He stepped closer, his gaze narrowing as he looked her over. His eyes lingered on the bruise that was already forming on her arm, the deep purple marks standing out starkly against her pale skin.

“What happened to your arm?” Luther asked, his voice quieter now, though there was an edge to it that made Charlie’s stomach twist with unease.

Charlie tensed, her mind scrambling for an excuse, but she knew there was no point in lying. Luther could smell lies as easily as he could scent blood. Her heart raced as she struggled to find her voice.

“N-nothing,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Luther’s eyes flashed golden for just a moment, a brief flicker of the wolf that lay beneath the surface. It was a color Charlie had always admired, though it terrified her at the same time. His gaze was sharp, unyielding, and there was a heat behind it that made Charlie’s breath catch.

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her arm, and for a brief moment, Charlie thought she saw something else flicker in his eyes—something softer, almost like concern. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the same cold indifference he always wore around her.

“I’ll be watching you,” Luther said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made Charlie’s stomach churn. Then he turned and left the kitchen, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding in her chest.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Charlie let out a shaky breath. She glanced down at the clock—seven o’clock on the dot. She had just finished the eggs.

There was no time to dwell on Luther’s words, no time to wonder what he’d seen in her bruises. The pack would be arriving for breakfast any minute now, and Charlie couldn’t afford to fall further behind. She pushed the lingering fear to the back of her mind and got to work.

The day had only just begun, and already, Charlie could feel the weight of it pressing down on her.