Chapter 22

Olympia’s POV

I was trapped. And as days turned into weeks, the palace began to swallow me whole.

But it was not only the brothers who tied me here. It was the whispers. The gossip.

Word spread faster than fire through the servants’ quarters. At first, they only looked at me with curious eyes. A maid serving the princes—that was unusual enough. But soon the truth, or what they believed was the truth, spread like poison.

They called me the brothers’ callgirl.

Everywhere I walked, whispers followed. When I carried food down the hall, the maids behind me would cover their mouths, laughing into their palms. When I cleaned a chamber, the guards standing nearby would smirk, their eyes sliding over me with a knowing look.

“You see her?” one maid hissed one morning when she thought I could not hear. “She’s the princes’ toy. Passed between them like wine at a feast.”

“She thinks she’s special,” another replied. “But she’s nothing more than what they bought her for.”

Their words burned worse than fire. I wanted to shout, to tell them they were wrong, that I had not asked for this, that I had been sold like an object. But my voice would not come. I carried my silence like a second skin, and it weighed me down.

The jealousy in their eyes was sharper than the gossip. Other girls stared at me with hate. The daughters of nobles, the pretty maids, even the young women who dreamed of catching a prince’s attention. To them, I had stolen something they wanted.

They looked at me with disgust, as though my very presence was filth. When I entered the room, they turned away, whispering louder. When I walked past, some spat on the floor, as if to mark the ground I touched.

I kept my head low, but their eyes followed me anyway. I could feel the heat of their judgment burning into my back.

One girl, bold enough to step closer, muttered as I passed, “Slut.” She did not even try to hide it. I wanted to turn, to slap her, to show her I was not weak, but I walked on. My hands shook as I clutched the tray I carried, but I said nothing. If I fought, it would only prove them right.

At night, when I lay in my bed, I let my thoughts run wild. I dreamed of freedom. I dreamed of walking past the gates without fear, of feeling the cool wind of the forest on my face. I dreamed of a mate—someone chosen by fate who would see me for more than what I had been forced to become.

But when I woke, the truth returned.

There was no freedom. The palace was too strong, the brothers too watchful. And as for a mate…

My wolf, Aria, stirred with sadness. Our mate is here, she whispered. We cannot look outside. We cannot hope for another.

I wanted to deny her. I wanted to believe that beyond these walls there was still a chance, still a future untouched by the shadow of this palace. But deep inside, I knew she was right. Their wolves already knew me. They had already marked me. Even if they never spoke the word, even if they never admitted it, the bond was there.

And bonds could not be broken.

Each day I lived with the weight of it. The palace walls pressed in, the gossip grew sharper, the brothers’ eyes burned stronger. I felt myself shrinking, piece by piece, like a bird clipped off its wings.

I was Olympia Russell, daughter of the Obsidian Pack, once a simple maid with dreams of something more. But now, I was nothing more than what they made of me.

The princes’ callgirl. The gossip’s subject. The object of jealousy.

A girl trapped in a cage of gold.

A girl who would never be free.