The Alpha King's Wingman and His Mate
AVERY.
Wipe down surfaces. Do the laundry. Wash the dishes.
The list never ended.
My head throbbed. I leaned against the wall, pressing my forehead to the cool surface, willing it to ground me. But even the wall offered no relief. My skull pulsed with the weight of continuous commands and the screech of the housekeeper’s voice echoing in my ears all morning.
Today was Alpha Caleb’s 21st birthday—the Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack. Which meant the mansion had to shine, and every Omega had to bend over backward to make it happen. Especially me.
"Avery!"
Her voice ripped through the hall like a whip, grating and raw. My stomach dropped. I shot upright, shoulders tight, heart pounding in anticipation.
The housekeeper’s cold eyes locked on me, her wrinkled face twisted in fury. The silver hair pulled into a severe bun only made her look sharper, more menacing. But it wasn’t her appearance that made fear crawl down my spine—it was the memory of the riding crop.
"Do I need to remind you of your punishment for disobedience?" she barked.
No. She didn’t.
My mind instantly betrayed me, conjuring the memory of leather lashing my skin—again and again. The sting. The blood. The helpless tears. Even now, the raw wounds on my back throbbed like open mouths crying out.
I flinched and quickly bowed my head. "No, ma’am. I’ll wash the dishes immediately."
I didn’t wait for her to speak again. I rushed to the counter, hands already trembling before they touched the cold porcelain sink.
"Deal with those potatoes too. And be quick about it," she snapped, then turned and left.
My exhale was shaky, shallow. A fragile kind of relief washed over me. No whips—at least not tonight.
But pain didn’t need a whip to speak. A sudden bolt shot through my back, sharp and biting. My knees buckled. I braced myself on the counter, eyes squeezing shut as I fought the wave of dizziness.
My hands—red, raw, overused—dug into the counter’s edge for support.
I bit down on a whimper.
The punishment for dropping a plate had been harsh. Too harsh. But that didn’t stop her from wielding the crop yesterday when I’d broken one in a dizzy spell.
It hurts so bad...
The words barely made it past my lips. My eyes blurred with tears as I glanced at the mounds of potatoes awaiting me. Dozens of bags. Hours of peeling.
And only when I was done would I be allowed to eat.
Only then would I be allowed to feed her.
My mother. Alone. Forgotten. Suffering.
Rotting in a dungeon for a crime she didn’t commit. She was the only family I had. And I was all she had left.
My heart twisted. She depended on me to survive.
I couldn’t stop now. I couldn’t.
Tears spilled before I could stop them. But I wiped them away with the sleeve of my threadbare dress, hiding the evidence of my weakness. I picked up a dish.
And I kept going.
---
When the last potato was peeled and the final dish scrubbed clean, I was finally handed food. Cold bread and dry meat, but it didn’t matter. I cradled it like treasure as I slipped through the corridors toward the dungeon.
Toward her.
The cell was cold. Damp. Reeking of rust and despair. But what stole my breath was the sight of her curled on the floor, skin pale, lips cracked, eyes closed. Bruises covered her like bruised petals—fragile, fading, and devastating.
"Mom..." My voice cracked.
She didn’t stir. I knelt beside her, setting the food down as gently as I could. My hands shook as I touched her face.
Her eyelids fluttered, and those eyes—once warm, now dim—met mine.
"Avery..." she rasped.
I smiled. I always smiled. She needed it. Even when everything inside me was breaking, I smiled for her.
I helped her up and gave her the food. But instead of eating, she gripped my hand.
"I’m sorry," she whispered.
I shook my head. "There’s nothing to be sorry about, Mum. Just... just seven more years. We’ll find a way."
Her arms wrapped around me, trembling. "This is all my fault. You shouldn’t be spending your 18th birthday like this."
I stilled. I had almost forgotten.
Today was my birthday.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall.
I stayed in her embrace until the guard’s bark shattered the moment.
"Hey! It’s a few minutes to midnight! Visiting time is over. Get out!"
I looked at her one last time. Her lips trembled. Her eyes shimmered.
"Out!" the guard snapped, yanking me by the arm.
"Ah!" I gasped, pain flaring as his grip dug into my skin. He shoved me out and slammed the door shut.
"Good night, Mum," I whispered, rubbing the sore spot on my arm.
She nodded faintly behind the bars.
As I walked away, something strange stirred inside me. The pain… was fading. My hands no longer stung. My back felt—whole. The tight ache in my legs was gone.
I blinked.
Why did I feel like I was healing?
I glanced down at my palms. The redness had vanished. My skin looked untouched. Even the old welts on my back no longer burned. It was as if the wounds had never been there.
Then, the air changed.
A soft breeze curled around me, scented with snow and pine—clean, crisp, comforting.
Then a voice.
"Avery."
I froze.
It was warm. Familiar. Inside my mind.
Was that...?
My heart skipped.
"Yes. I’m your wolf—Lumi," the voice answered gently.
Shock rippled through me, followed by a joy so intense it took my breath away. My wolf. On my birthday.
After years of suffering, I had finally been blessed.
Then, just as quickly, another scent drifted toward me.
Patchouli and stone. Earthy. Strong. All-consuming.
It lit a fire under my skin.
Lumi stirred.
"Mate," she whispered.
Mate.
The word echoed in my chest like thunder.
The scent grew stronger, weaving around me, pulling me toward it.
Toward him.
My feet moved before I could think. I followed the invisible thread, up the steps, through the corridors. I stopped just outside a grand door.
Alpha Caleb’s office.
Lumi’s voice whispered again. "Follow. He’s close."
My breath caught.
Could it be?
"Omegas aren’t allowed here," I hesitated.
Lumi chuckled softly. "But our mate is there."
The words silenced my doubt.
Our mate.
Everything else fell away.
I reached for the doorknob.
And turned it.
