The Heir He Denied

The room spun around me. I sat on the edge of my narrow mattress in the servants quarters. My hands gripped the thin grey sheets. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. The rejection was not just emotional. It was physical. The severed bond felt like an open wound in the center of my chest that bled invisible blood. I could still hear the bass of the music from the main house. It thumped against the walls. It was a cruel heartbeat that mocked my own. Thump. Thump. Thump. Up there they were celebrating. Damon was raising a glass of scotch. Tiffany was laughing and clinging to his arm. The shareholders were applauding the new CEO. Down here I was dying. I looked at the digital clock on my cracked bedside table. It was 2:00 AM. Damon had said to be gone by noon. He wanted me out of sight so he could play the happy Alpha with his perfect new Luna. "No," I whispered to the empty air. "I am not waiting until noon." If I saw him again I would crumble. If I smelled that scent of rain and vanilla again I would beg him to take me back. And I could not do that. I had very little pride left but I had enough to know when I was unwanted. I grabbed my worn canvas backpack from the closet. I did not have much to pack. I took three pairs of jeans. Four t shirts. My toothbrush. The small framed photo of my parents from before the crash. I wrapped the photo carefully in a sweater. It was the only thing I had left of the life where I mattered. I opened the top drawer of my dresser. I pulled out an envelope taped to the back of the wood. It contained my emergency stash. It was money I had saved from tips over the last five years. I counted it. Four hundred dollars. In the world of billionaire Alphas like Damon that was less than the cost of a single bottle of wine. In my world it was everything. It had to last me until I found a job. I zipped the bag shut. It looked so small. My entire life fit into a bag that weighed less than ten pounds. I looked at my phone sitting on the pillow. It was an old model provided by the pack for work communications. Leave it, a voice in my head whispered. They can track it. I picked up the device. My thumb hovered over the screen. Part of me wanted to send Damon a text. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to curse him. I wanted to tell him he had made the biggest mistake of his life. But silence was a louder weapon. I set the phone back down on the bed. I left my key card next to it. I swung the backpack over my shoulder and opened the door. The hallway was empty. Most of the staff were still working at the party. I kept my head down and moved quickly toward the service exit. My shoes squeaked softly on the linoleum. I flinched at every sound. I felt like a criminal escaping a crime scene. But I was the victim. I pushed open the heavy steel door at the back of the kitchen. The cool night air hit my face. It smelled of exhaust and damp pavement. It helped clear the fog in my head. I stepped out into the loading dock area. The estate was massive. It spanned fifty acres of prime real estate just outside the city limits. To get to the main road I had to walk past the garages and down the long driveway to the security gate. I stuck to the shadows. As I passed the six car garage I saw the sleek black outline of Damon's Bugatti. It gleamed under the security lights. It looked like a beast waiting to pounce. I paused. A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill. I remembered cleaning that car last week. I had scrubbed the rims until my fingers bled because I wanted him to be proud of his ride. I had polished the leather seats hoping he might notice the scent of lemon cleaner and smile. He never noticed. He never saw me. I turned away from the car and started walking. The driveway was a mile long. It was lined with ancient oak trees that cast long scary shadows. The wind picked up and bit through my thin jacket. I shivered. My chest ached more with every step I took away from the main house. The bond was trying to pull me back. It was a magnetic force dragging me toward the Alpha. My wolf whimpered in my mind. She wanted her mate. She did not understand why we were leaving. "He does not want us," I whispered to her. "We have to go." She howled in grief but she stopped pulling. I saw the lights of the guardhouse ahead. The iron gates were closed. Two armed guards stood by the control booth. They were busy checking the credentials of a late arriving limousine. I knew the guards. One was Steve. He was a kind Beta who sometimes snuck me chocolate bars. If he saw me he would ask questions. He would ask why I was walking out at 3:00 AM with a backpack. He might call the main house to check if I was allowed to leave. I could not risk it. I veered off the driveway and into the dense landscaping. The bushes were thick and thorny. They scratched at my jeans and snagged my jacket. I bit my lip to keep from crying out as a branch whipped across my cheek. I crouched low and moved parallel to the fence line. About a hundred yards down from the gate there was a weak spot in the perimeter. It was a small gap between the iron bars and an old oak tree. The landscapers kept meaning to fix it but never got around to it. I squeezed through the gap. The metal pressed hard against my ribs. For a second I thought I was stuck. Panic flared in my chest. If I got caught now it would be humiliating. I exhaled all the air in my lungs and pushed. I popped out on the other side. I stumbled down the grassy embankment and landed on the sidewalk of the public highway. I was out. I stood up and brushed the dirt off my knees. I looked back at the estate one last time. The mansion sat on the hill like a fortress of light. It looked beautiful and cruel. "Goodbye Damon," I said. My voice cracked. I turned my back on the Blood Moon Pack and started walking toward the city skyline glowing orange in the distance. The walk was brutal. It took me four hours to reach the city limits. My feet were blistered in my cheap sneakers. The physical exhaustion was the only thing keeping the emotional pain at bay. If I stopped moving the memories would catch up to me. The sun was starting to rise by the time I hit the downtown district. The sky turned a bruised purple and grey. The city was waking up. Delivery trucks rumbled past me. Commuters in suits rushed toward the subway stations with coffee cups in their hands. I felt invisible in a different way here. At the pack house I was invisible because I was a servant. Here I was invisible because I was nobody. I passed a bakery. The smell of fresh bread made my stomach cramp. I realized I had not eaten since lunch the day before. I wanted to buy a bagel but I clutched my backpack strap tighter. Four hundred dollars. I could not spend money on fancy bakery food. I needed a place to sleep. I wandered for another hour until I found a neighborhood that looked run down enough to be affordable. The buildings were brick and covered in graffiti. The cars parked on the street were rusted. I saw a neon sign flickering above a narrow doorway. The Traveler's Motel. Weekly Rates. I pushed open the glass door. A bell jingled. The lobby smelled of stale cigarette smoke and bleach. A human man with greasy hair sat behind a plexiglass window. He was watching a game show on a small TV. He looked up at me. His eyes raked over my messy hair and the scratch on my cheek. "ID?" he grunted. My heart stopped. I did not have a driver's license. My pack ID would reveal who I was and I could not use it. "I... I lost it," I lied. My voice was hoarse. "I have cash. I can pay up front." The man narrowed his eyes. He looked at the cash in my hand. He looked back at my desperate face. He shrugged. "Fifty a night. No guests. No drugs. You break it you buy it." "Okay," I said quickly. "I just need one night." I slid a fifty dollar bill under the glass. He tossed a plastic key card at me. "Room 204. Upstairs." I took the key and practically ran up the stairs. Room 204 was small. The wallpaper was peeling in the corners. The carpet was a suspicious shade of brown. There was a single window that looked out onto a brick wall. It was ugly. It was dirty. It was perfect. It was mine. I dropped my backpack on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. The mattress was lumpy and smelled of dust. I stared up at the water stained ceiling. I was eighteen years old. I was alone in a human city. I had three hundred and fifty dollars to my name. I had no wolf. I had no family. I had no mate. The reality of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. I curled onto my side and pulled my knees to my chest. The pain in my heart was a dull throb now. It was a constant reminder of what I had lost. But as I lay there watching the dust motes dance in the sliver of morning light I felt something else. I was free. I did not have to scrub floors today. I did not have to bow to Tiffany. I did not have to watch Damon look through me like I was glass. "I will survive this," I whispered. It was a promise to myself. "I will find a job. I will make money. I will be someone." I closed my eyes. exhaustion pulled me under. I drifted into a restless sleep. I dreamed of grey eyes and the scent of rain. I did not know it then but I was not as alone as I thought. Deep inside my body a tiny spark of life was flickering. It was a secret that would change the fate of the entire wolf world. It was barely a cluster of cells but it was already strong. It was holding on. Just like its mother.