36 How It Was In Ironbridge

**Annabel's POV**

"Alfred proposed that I become his mistress," I said, my voice steady, though the memory churned like a storm inside me. "He promised he’d take care of me, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. 

It wasn’t something I could open myself to, not for him, not for anyone. But my rejection… it made me his enemy. That’s when Rebecca stepped in, stripping me of everything. She reduced me to an Omega, as if I’d never been Luna, as if I’d never mattered."

I paused, the words catching in my throat like jagged stones. Darius said nothing, his gaze intent, unflinching. It steadied me, in a way.

"I became a maid in the very house I once ruled alongside Maxwell," I continued, my voice growing quieter. "Just another servant, working day and night with the others. But even that wasn’t enough for Alfred.” 

“He kept coming, advancing on me when no one was looking, as though rejection wasn’t a word he could comprehend. I endured it, barely, because I had no choice. Then, when it came time for him to settle down, Leah became his first choice.”

"But when Leah and her father visited and saw how I was treated… they refused the match. Her father wouldn’t allow her to marry into such a house." I let out a bitter laugh, my hands clenching. 

"Of course, they blamed me. Rebecca was furious. She said I’d poisoned Leah against them and demanded I leave the pack. Banished me. Gave me a deadline to be gone."

Darius’s eyes flickered, a shadow of something unnameable crossing his face. But he didn’t speak, letting the silence stretch until I found my voice again.

"I wanted to leave right then, but where could I go? I had nothing. No allies, no resources. I lingered, desperate, sending applications to other packs, begging to join—even as a low-level member.” 

“No one responded. By then, Alfred had married Michelle, and the two of them—Michelle and Rebecca—they made my life unbearable. Every hour in that house was a humiliation." My fingers curled around the edge of the table, gripping it like a lifeline.

"Leah reached out then, offering to help me get into her pack. I was so grateful I cried. But even with her help, it wasn’t fast enough. Rebecca’s deadline came. I’d packed everything I had—what little there was—and was preparing to leave when… well, you know the rest."

I looked at him then, my chest tight with the weight of it all. 

"Ironbridge fell. We were rounded up, branded, stripped of everything that remained. Sorted like livestock. And now… here I am." I took a breath that felt as thin as paper. "Doing my best to adjust to this new life."

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of my story pressing down like a tangible force. Then Darius met my gaze. There was something in his eyes—pity, maybe, or sorrow—but it didn’t linger. 

"Is that why you told Michelle to face reality? To stop antagonizing you? That you’re branded slaves, my property?" Darius asked, his tone calm but pointed, his gaze cutting through me. 

My stomach twisted, worry rising like a storm inside me. Had I said too much to Michelle? I hadn’t realized he’d been listening. But, of course, I should have known. He’d been the one to open the door.

"Is that how you see yourself, Ann?" he continued, his voice quieter now, almost searching. "As my property?"

There was no point in lying. The truth was there, plain and undeniable. Slowly, I nodded.

"There’s a brand on my neck that says so, Your Majesty," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. His jaw tightened, and I realized too late that my words had irritated him.

Darius pushed back his chair, rising from the table with an air of quiet intensity. Before I could react, he reached for me, pulling me to my feet. His hands were firm but not rough as he drew me closer, his presence overwhelming. 

My breath hitched as his fingers brushed my waist, his hold grounding but electric.

Then, with deliberate care, he reached for the band holding my hair. He pulled it free, letting the strands fall over my shoulders, his fingertips grazing my neck as they lingered for a moment too long.

"So, when I danced with you," he murmured, his voice low and charged, "you let me because you believed you were my property?" His eyes burned into mine, their intensity freezing me in place. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Did he even want an answer, or was this a challenge? A test? I didn’t know.

"And when I kissed you," he continued, stepping closer, his presence impossibly close now, "held you, cuddled you at night—you let me because you believe you’re my property?"

His words fell into the air between us like stones into a still pond, each one rippling through me. His face was mere inches from mine now, his lips hovering so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. My heart pounded in my chest, so loud it drowned out everything else.

Darius tilted his head slightly, his voice soft but unyielding. "Is that why, Ann? Tell me."

I was frozen, caught between the pull of his presence and the storm inside me. He had an effect on me, one I couldn’t deny. But I dared not lean into it, dared not let myself gravitate toward something that could shatter me.