Chapter 2 Sienna:pov

I ran.

It was a cowardly thing to do, but as Ethan had marched toward me in the courtyard his amber eyes swallowed by a toxic, bloodshot rage my survival instinct violently kicked in.

Before his heavy boots could close the distance between us, Helena had moved. My stepmother glided through the crowd with practiced grace, sliding her arm through his.

She whispered something in his ear, redirecting the new Alpha King toward the bowing pack elders.

The second his terrifying gaze snapped away from me, I turned and fled.

Now, I was exactly where Helena wanted me to be.

I was on my hands and knees in the grand foyer, scrubbing the white marble floor. My knuckles were cracked and bleeding.

The harsh smell of industrial bleach burned the inside of my nose, mixing with the faint, metallic tang of my own blood seeping into the soapy water.

I scrubbed harder, my breathing coming in short, shaky bursts. My arms started to ache, but I couldn't stop. I just wanted to get his face out of my head, to forget the way he'd looked at me. But no matter how hard I try, the memory won't go away.

He's just tired, I kept telling myself. I pressed the brush harder against the stone, the rough bristles scraping beneath my fingers.

He'd been fighting at the border for nearly a year. Anyone would come back different after that. War changed people. I knew that.

At least, that was what I wanted to believe.

The bloodshed, the stress... he just needs time to settle down.

That was what I kept telling myself.

My wolf whimpered in the back of my head. She wasn't buying a single word of my excuse.

She was still shivering from the sour, chemical rot that had completely infected his natural scent. But I shoved her fear down. I had to. If I didn't hold onto the belief that my Ethan was still in there somewhere, I would shatter into a million pieces.

The mate bond was real this year.

I can smell chocolate and roses. He was my mate.

He needs rest.

I kept telling myself.

I could feel it right now. It was a hot, heavy pulling sensation sitting just beneath my ribs.

A physical, invisible string tied between us. He had to be feeling it too.

Once the coronation crowds cleared, once the noise died down and it was just the two of us, the bond would cut through whatever trauma was clouding his mind.

He would look at me. He would remember his promise.

"I'm getting you out of this house. You're going to be mine."

"Well, don't you look exactly like what you are."

The sharp, haughty voice sliced through the quiet foyer.

I froze. My bleeding hands sank to the bottom of the dirty mop bucket.

I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The suffocating scent of expensive vanilla perfume clogged the air.

I sat back on my bruised heels and wiped a line of cold sweat from my forehead with the back of my wrist.

Chloe stood at the top of the grand staircase, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach turn.

She looked breathtaking. I hated her for it, but it was true. My stepsister was poured into a custom-fitted crimson silk gown that hugged every single curve of her body.

The bodice was encrusted with tiny black diamonds, and a heavy, dramatic train pooled on the stairs behind her.

It was a dress designed for a queen. A dress meant for Luna.

"You missed the grand arrival," Chloe purred, slowly walking down the stairs. The high slit in her dress exposed a perfectly tanned leg.

"But I suppose someone had to clean up the mud the convoy tracked in. It's fitting, really.

The dirt suits you."

I stared at her satin heels. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. "The floor is wet, Chloe. Don't slip."

Her smirk faltered. Her eyes narrowed into icy slits.

She stepped off the bottom stair and walked directly toward me. Her heels clicked aggressively against the marble. She stopped inches from where I was kneeling, the heavy silk of her gown brushing against my wet, bruised knees.

"Do you know what Ethan said when my mother introduced us outside?" Chloe asked. Her voice dropped into a mocking whisper.

"He looked me up and down, and he told me I was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on."

Not an omage.

My chest tightened. A sharp, stinging pain radiated behind my ribs.

"He didn't even ask where you were, Sienna," she whispered, leaning down.

"He didn't even notice you were gone." so better stop thinking of him. He doesn't love you.

I forced my face to remain entirely blank. I reached into the bucket, wrung out my rag, and started wiping down the baseboards

"He's been gone a long time," I kept my voice flat. Empty. "He's just being polite to your mother. It's politics."

Chloe laughed. The high, grating sound bounced off the chandeliers above us.

"Polite? Oh, you stupid, delusional little mutt. Tonight is the coronation.

He's going to announce his Luna. And it is certainly not going to be the pathetic, crippled servant girl scrubbing the floors in rags. Do you think he is going to marry a weak image as his luna"

She kicked the side of my bucket.

It wasn't hard enough to knock it over, but it was hard enough to send dirty, grey water sloshing over the rim. It soaked directly into the hem of my thin cotton dress, freezing against my skin.

Something inside me finally snapped.

I didn't stand up. I knew better than to physically challenge her in Helena's house but I stopped scrubbing. I lifted my chin and looked her dead in the eyes.

"You can wear all the silk and diamonds in the world, Chloe," I said quietly. My voice was surprisingly steady.

"You can stand next to him on the dais tonight. You can let your mother whisper in his ear. But you and I both know the truth."

Chloe's pale face flushed a furious, ugly red. "You don't have the bond," I continued, the words tasting like a lifeline.

"The moon goddess tied my soul to his. You can't buy that. You can't steal it. When his Alpha blood demands a mate tonight, it's not going to be you he's looking for."

"Shut your mouth!" Chloe hissed. Her composure broke completely. She took a step forward and raised her hand, aiming a hard slap right for my cheek.

But her hand never fell.

The heavy oak double doors at the end of the foyer were violently shoved open. They hit the stone walls with a deafening crash that made both of us jump.

The air in the room instantly vanished.

It wasn't just a drop in temperature. It was a physical shift in gravity. A crushing, suffocating weight rolled into the foyer, pressing down on my shoulders so hard I physically slumped forward.

My hands slapped flat against the wet marble just to keep my face from hitting the floor. My ears popped. My lungs seized.

It was the raw, unrestrained aura of a dominant Alpha King.

I gasped for air, forcing my head up. Ethan stood in the doorway.

He had taken off his suit jacket. His white button down shirt was rolled up to the elbows, clinging to the thick, sweat slicked muscle of his chest.

That awful, sickening blend of battery acid, rusted iron, and rotting sweetness flooded the foyer, completely swallowing Chloe's vanilla perfume.

My heart hammered wildly. He's here. He found me. Finally he came for me.

"Ethan!" Chloe immediately dropped her raised hand.

In the blink of an eye, her furious sneer vanished. She replaced it with a trembling lower lip and wide, tear filled eyes. She practically threw herself across the foyer toward him.

"Thank the goddess you're here!" she cried out, her voice dripping with fake panic.

"She was just threatening me! She said she was going to ruin the coronation!"

I froze, my bleeding hands stinging in the soapy water. It was a blatant, pathetic lie.

But I didn't even look at Chloe. I kept my eyes locked solely on Ethan.

He didn't look at Chloe either.

He stepped around her as if she were a piece of furniture. His heavy combat boots echoed like gunshots on the marble as he walked slowly, deliberately, stopping right in front of me.

I stayed on the floor, craning my neck to look up at him.

The mate bond inside my chest was screaming. It pulled violently at my ribs, begging me to reach out and touch him.

I could see the muscles in his jaw ticking. A thick vein bulged in his neck.

Feel it, I prayed, tears burning the back of my eyes. Please, Ethan. Break through the dark. Feel me.

I prayed to the moon goddess.

For a split second, his massive hand twitched. He pressed his palm flat against his chest right over his heart, exactly where our bond anchored.

A flash of agonizing confusion crossed his scarred face. His breathing hitched.

"Ethan," I whispered, my voice breaking. I slowly lifted one wet, shaking hand toward his boot. "It's me. I waited for you."

But the moment my voice hit the air, the confusion in his eyes was violently erased.

It was swallowed whole by that toxic, bloodshot madness. The muscles in his massive arms tightened until the fabric of his shirt strained.

The sour smell of the chemical rage potion spiked so hard it made my eyes water.

He didn't see his childhood friend. He didn't see his fated mate.

Tears drop from my eyes.

He looked down at me with a level of pure, feral disgust that made my blood run freezing cold.

"Did I give you permission to speak to me, Omega?"

My heart stopped for a moment.

His voice didn't sound like Ethan. It was a deep, gravelly, demonic scrape that rattled the glass in the chandeliers above us.

The sheer force of his Alpha command wrapped around my throat like an invisible iron chain.

My jaw clamped shut against my will. My raised hand was forced down, dropping back into the dirty water with a splash.

Chloe stood behind him, a wicked, triumphant smile spreading across her face.

I stared up at the man I had loved my entire life, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for him to blink, shake his head, and pull me up off the cold, wet floor.

Instead, Ethan leaned down. His face stopped inches from mine. His breath smelled like metal and decay. His amber eyes were dead, hollow pits of hatred.

"Did I tell you that you could look at me?" he snapped.

The weight of his Alpha power pressed down on me, forcing my back to bend despite my desperate attempt to stand straight.

"Get your face in the dirt," he growled. "That's where you belong."

Omage.