Chapter 2

Bree Fitzpatrick POV:

My rain-soaked heels clicked against the marble corridor as I climbed the steps into the main hall, every step sending a fresh wave of cramping agony through my lower belly. On both sides of the entrance, burly Gamma guards—whose genetic rank gave them combat strength second only to the Alpha—glanced at me coldly, looking at me like a lowly intruder rather than their Luna.

Arthur, the estate butler, pulled open the heavy carved oak doors. Warm golden light and loud chatter washed over me. The long banquet table was packed with core members of the Hogan family, while two empty seats near the head of the table stood out starkly.

Former Luna, Edrie Hogan, held a cup, her sharp gray eyes sweeping over my dripping hem with open disgust. Beside her, my sister-in-law, Cecelia Hogan, let out a loud sneer.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up."

I straightened my spine, walked into the hall, and lowered my eyes in a respectful bow.

"I'm sorry. The storm delayed traffic on the mountain road."

Edrie slammed her cup onto the saucer. The sharp crack silenced the entire room.

"Knowing tonight is a formal pack banquet, you deliberately show up looking like a drowned rat. Are you trying to humiliate the Hogan family in front of the Elders?" Edrie snapped.

"Don't flatter her," Cecelia chimed in, her voice dripping with venom. "She's just a lowly Omega who schemed her way into marriage by forcing a blood debt. You can't wash the cheap blood out of her bones."

Several distant relatives chuckled around the table, watching me like I was cheap entertainment. I dug my fingernails deep into my palms until my knuckles turned pale, fighting back the dizziness from my ongoing blood loss. Even if an Omega married an Alpha, her genetic rank never changed, making me an easy target in this house.

Edrie pointed a manicured finger toward a small wooden stool near the kitchen serving passage at the far end of the hall.

"Since you know your lowly place, go sit over there. Don't ruin the custom tablecloth at the main table."

That stool was meant for omega servants waiting to clear dishes. I clenched my jaw, swallowed the metallic taste in my throat, and dragged my heavy legs toward that humiliating corner without a word. Cold sweat slid down the back of my neck into my collar. I sat down on the hard wooden stool, hiding my hands under the folds of my black dress to press against my spasming stomach.

The main doors swung open again. Gerard strode in wearing a bespoke black suit, his overwhelming Alpha aura filling the room. Tucked closely into the crook of his arm was Demetra in a pale pink silk gown, the vine tattoo above her left collarbone peeking out under the chandelier light.

Edrie's harsh face instantly melted into a warm smile as she stood up.

"Demetra, come sit by me! How did the checkup go? Is the little pup doing well?"

Demetra leaned shyly against Gerard's shoulder, speaking in a soft, syrupy tone.

"The doctor said the baby is very healthy. It's all thanks to Gerard staying by my side every second."

Gerard pulled out a chair for Demetra before his cold gaze swept across the hall and landed on me in the corner. Seeing me sitting on the servant's stool soaked to the bone, his dark brows twitched slightly, only to smooth back into icy indifference a second later.

"Demetra, you are the only Luna our family recognizes," Cecelia said, handing her a glass of warm water. "Someone shamelessly hogging the title should have rolled out of here long ago."

Demetra quickly waved her hands, her eyes reddening as she looked at me.

"Cecelia, please don't say that. Bree is Gerard's legally bound wife. I'm... I'm just an outsider."

Gerard's expression darkened at her words, his voice dropping to a freezing octave.

"There is no need to humble yourself in front of her. She doesn't deserve to be compared to you."

Every word he spoke felt like an icy stone smashing against my chest. I stared down at the dark water dripping from my hem onto the floor, biting my lip to keep from making a sound. Suddenly, my lower abdomen contracted violently. A warm gush of blood slid down my inner thighs, soaking into the thick black fabric of my dress. I doubled over on the stool, my fingernails scratching deep grooves into the wood as black spots danced across my vision.

Just as I was about to pass out onto the floor, the heavy thud of a cane echoed from the inner hall, bringing the noisy banquet to an instant standstill as Chief Elder, Cornelius Hogan, stepped out.