Rejected Princess, Rising From The Ashes

Blake POV: The humiliation burned hotter than the alcohol serving station. I had retrieved the keys, handed them to a valet, and returned to my station, my face burning. I wanted to leave. I wanted to shift and tear this place apart. But I had made a promise to myself: I would only reveal my true self to a man who loved Blake the girl, not Blake the Princess. It seemed that man did not exist. "Table seven needs a special," Mark barked at me as I passed the bar. "Jaden says the champagne is flat. She wants the 'Silver Mist' cocktail. Extra hot." My stomach dropped. The Silver Mist was a gimmick drink, heated to a near boil and served with dry ice. "Mark, I have other tables," I tried to argue. "Do it, or you're fired. And if you're fired, Connor kicks you out of the pack house. Where will you go then, runt? The streets?" I gritted my teeth and went to the bar. The bartender handed me the steaming glass on a tray. I could smell the acrid scent rising from it. I walked toward the VIP section. The hallway was dimmer here, lined with plush velvet curtains. It was a blind spot for the security cameras. Jaden was waiting for me. She wasn't at her table. She was leaning against the wall in the narrow corridor, blocking my path. "You look pathetic in that uniform," she sneered. "Connor deserves a real wolf. A Luna who can give him strong pups. Not a genetic dead-end like you." "Move, Jaden," I said, my voice steady. The tray was hot in my hands. "Make me." She stepped forward. I tried to step around her, but she was quick. She feigned a stumble, lurching toward me. "Oh no!" she cried out, her voice fake and loud. Her hand shot out, not to catch herself, but to strike the bottom of the tray. The glass tipped. Time seemed to slow down. The steaming, sticky liquid splashed over the rim. It didn't hit the floor. It hit my left hand. "Ah!" I gasped, dropping the tray. It shattered with a deafening crash. Pain. Absolute, blinding white pain. This wasn't just hot liquid. As the steam cleared, I smelled it-the metallic, sulfurous scent of liquid silver concentrate. It was illegal to serve to wolves. It was poison. Silver doesn't just burn a wolf; it stops the healing process. It eats through the skin like acid. I clutched my wrist, falling to my knees. Smoke rose from my skin. My flesh bubbled and hissed. My inner wolf screamed in agony, thrashing against my skull. "Help!" Jaden shrieked, backing away and pointing a manicured finger at me. "She attacked me! She tried to throw the drink in my face!" Footsteps thundered down the hall. Mark appeared, followed by two security guards. "What is going on here?" Mark roared. "She's crazy!" Jaden sobbed, squeezing out crocodile tears. "I told her I didn't want her serving me, and she snapped! She tried to burn me!" I looked up, sweat dripping down my forehead. "She... she hit the tray. It has silver in it, Mark. It's silver!" Mark looked at my hand. The skin was red and raw, the burn deepening by the second. He could smell the burning flesh. He knew. Any wolf could smell the difference between a scald and a silver burn. But Mark looked at Jaden, who was holding the "Blood Oath" pendant around her neck. He turned back to me, his eyes cold. "Clean this mess up, Blake," Mark spat. "You clumsy, vindictive Omega. You're lucky Miss Jaden is too kind to press charges." "My hand..." I whispered, the pain making me dizzy. "Go to the kitchen and put some ice on it. And stay out of sight. You're bad for business." I stared at him. The injustice settled in my chest, heavy and cold, extinguishing the fire of my hope. I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I stood up, cradling my mangled hand, and walked past them toward the kitchen. My suppressor patch was peeling slightly from the sweat. My scent-the scent of winter storms and ozone-leaked out just a fraction. Mark frowned, sniffing the air confusedly, but I was already gone. I had a debt to collect. And the interest was going to be high.