Chapter Twelve

The weeks rolled by and I barely had any interaction with Rowan, Kara, and Asher. I found out from Ada that they had gone on an urgent trip to the neighboring pack and it made me feel better.

I settled into a routine in the pack that involved waking up at dawn. The first night in my bedroom in the servant quarters had been tougher considering I wasn’t used to the low-quality bed but for someone who’d spent nights lying on bare ground, I made it through. Once I was up, I stepped into the washroom, did my business, and changed into the simple clothes I’d been provided before heading into the kitchen. Once finished there —I was becoming better with doing dishes— Ada and I would make our way upstairs to do the cleaning and replacing of bed covers. The afternoons were spent doing the laundry and by evening we’d be back in the kitchen cooking and cleaning.

It was hard to be on my feet all through the day but when I looked at the rest of the servants, I could tell they were waiting for me to give up, it didn’t help that Matilda always had something to yell at me about and it always elicited giggles from the other servants but I was determined to get through this. Living in the Nightshade pack was far better than roaming the forest, surviving on fruits and water while being in the line of danger myself.

“Does that look clean to you?” Marcellus asked, stopping behind me as I tried to hang up the sheets to dry.

The other girls around stopped to watch our interaction, sniggers escaping them.

I furrowed my brows and turned from the material in my hand to face Marcellus. He was towering and under the sun, his gray hair shone. The first time I’d seen him when I was with Ada, his massive physique and booming voice had terrified me.

Everyone in the Nightshade pack was hostile toward me so I hadn’t been expecting him to be any different but sometimes it felt like Marcellus had a more unique personal vendetta against me.

“I’m sorry?” I said, the word coming out confused. I didn’t know what was wrong with what I’d just washed. I was unused to washing with my hands but I’d been trying my best even though the soap stung and the water felt like a rough scrub on my skin, I still did my best and tried to wash them as I’d seen the other servant girls do.

Marcellus yanked the sheets from the line and tossed them on the floor and instantly, tears stung the back of my eyes as I watched my hard work go down the drain. I turned to him, swallowing thickly.

“Are you stupid?” He boomed. “You've had weeks to get your head together and you can't even wash sheets clean? This is not some charity space, girl, you don’t get away with mediocrity here. Do not forget you are a servant, this is not the Moonlake pack so over here, you do what a servant does! Is that clear?”

The rest of the other girls weren't even trying to hide their snickers anymore and I felt my face heat up in a mix of embarrassment and rage. I knew very well what I was and I was sick of them all reminding me and making mention of the fact that my life had tumulted and I was now in this pack where I knew nobody, doing a servant’s duty, and forced to suffer the brunt of the hatred they all had for my father even though I had no idea what his crime was.

I clenched my jaw tight but the words spilled out before I could even stop them. “I am trying my best, Marcellus, and you'd see that if you cut me some slack like you do everyone else. I know you hate me, I can't help how you feel but I would appreciate it if you weren't so harsh and belittling of my efforts.”

And the instant those words escaped my mouth, I knew they were the worst things I could have uttered because anger exploded on Marcellus’ face.

“Efforts? You call these efforts?” He roared, stomping on the sheets on the floor and overturning them so they got dirtied even further. “Everyone, step back, leave the clothes, and take a break. Scarlett here is going to take care of the rest, let's see how much effort she really is putting into this.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from crying but like a fool, the tears escaped my eyes still and rolled down my cheeks to the full view of Marcellus.

His laughter stung even more as it rumbled out of his wide chest. “Ah, classic, the tears. Well, I hate to break it to you, your tears mean nothing to me. What else do you have up your sleeves, Wild Wolf? Bring your wolf out then, isn't that what you do when you are provoked? Explode and destroy everything within your line?”

And even though I knew he was baiting me, my wolf didn't care. She was pounding hard at my chest, ripping me apart from the inside so intensely, I could barely hold her back. I felt pain explode and spread through every fiber of my body and I knew it was because I was trying to rein in my wolf from shifting.

“Please,” I whispered to Marcellus. “Please, just go and let me be. I'll do as you've said.”

I knew with certainty that the moment I shifted, Marcellus would have a fate no better than the men I'd killed in the forest and everyone here would have to be a witness to it. I wasn't sure if the other servant girls who stood slightly far from us would be spared considering how they'd laughed and mocked me quietly.

Marcellus watched me with blazing eyes. “Shift then! Come on, Wild Wolf, do it! Show yourself!” He roared, shoving me so hard, his hands slamming against my chest so that I tripped on my legs and fell to the ground but he wasn't done.

He kicked me, bashing his heavy boots into my midsection as he continued to kick me over and over again until I was forced to curl into myself on the ground.

“Come on, bring out your wolf, you murderer. It's what you do, no? Slaughter the people who upset you, I heard it becomes a bloodbath when you are provoked so come on, do it. It’s what your dirty kind do after all!”

And just as I felt my wolf begin to appear, my fingers twisting to form claws, I watched in horror, a guttural, blood-curdling sound perforating the air as a knife appeared through Marcellus’ back, sticking out in his stomach.

Marcellus looked down at the sharp blade in his stomach, blood quickly dampening the shirt he wore. Fear and panic flared in his eyes and that was the last expression I saw on his face just as the person behind him tore back the sword out and Marcellus fell to his face next to me revealing a raging Rowan standing, bloodied sword in his hand.