Lucien

My gaze trails down her body, taking in all the scars along her skin.

What kind of weapon was used? A blade? Silver-tipped? That's the only thing that would leave these faint scars all long her skin. I look back at her face and notice how she's sucked in her lips, almost like she's stopping herself from sobbing.

No doubt she thinks I'll take advantage of her the same way my men tried to earlier.

"Put your dress back on," I grit out. I've seen enough to verify her tale. I have to admit that, yes, I doubted her, simply because her looks could've helped her secure a decent marriage. I know it has happened before. She didn't have to marry an Alpha, but someone else.

How is it possible that she went unnoticed?

Quickly, she gets dressed. Perhaps she's not a bad maid—just exhausted by the day's events.

Her eyes refuse to meet mine. I'm intrigued by this woman I should've killed a long time ago. For some reason, the same thing keeps stopping me, and it isn't just her pretty face.

Something about her makes my wolf stir every time I look at her. I feel possessive over her, which is why I killed the man who dared to touch her.

Why? She's not my mate—I would've noticed it by now.

"You will sleep here, in the tent," I inform her. "You'll be my personal maid, and you will keep this place clean and have my meals brought to me among other things. I'm sure you don't have to be told what they are."

Ingrid tenses, but says nothing in response. Another slave would've been dismissed on the spot. But for some reason, I don't say the words to her. Instead, I leave the tent and head outside to find out if the scouts have arrived.

We plan to take over the territory further north, which is where we're all headed. Under my guidance, these men are expected to rebuild. The Alpha there has already been killed, so there isn't much to do. Some of the descendants are going to be hanged.

I must admit that when we started fighting this war, I didn't think we'd have a chance of winning. The Alpha King, my close friend, remained confident the entire time. When two of the seven Alphas joined our side to spare their lives, that's when we started winning.

The others didn't stand a chance. They weren't prepared for battle like we were. And why would they? What did those Alphas and their families know about struggling and suffering?

All they did was sit in their massive homes and look down at everyone else. They hurt vulnerable people and took advantage of them in every way.

The scars on Ingrid's body—and mine—are proof of their unfair treatment toward anyone who didn't have a name to use as a shield.

The scouts haven't arrived, so I overlook the preparations. This camp is meant to be untouched for about a week. We'll have to move around the area and evacuate the houses. There's a lot to be done. The country is currently being restructured, and by the end of it, we hope to have a fair ruler overseeing everything. One who won't behave as the Alpha did.

Anyone who dares to fight us on this will be killed and treated like the enemy they are.

Who wouldn't want a better change? A world where people are treated equally?

Right now, we're considering the old servants of the Alphas as slaves because we don't know if they can be trusted yet. Ingrid is a perfect example. I see the hatred she has for me written all over her face.

It didn't help that I killed her master right in front of her.

I wonder how she felt toward him. Was she in love, is that why she can't seem to stand me? Why does this thought fill me with so much rage? I've only just met her. I don't even know if she's trustworthy enough to keep her alive.

Caleb King, my loyal friend and brother in arms, approaches me. For all intents and purposes, he works for me and does everything I tell him to.

"Any news?" I ask.

"Well, the bodies of Alpha Jacob and Luna Gianna have been sent to the Alpha King's territory. Without delays, they're expected to get there before the bodies start to bloat and become unrecognizable. But you mentioned he wouldn't be happy that she died?"

"Yes," I reveal, feeling bad for my friend. "He really wanted to see her."

"He knew her, then?"

This isn't a story I've been given the liberty to share. I keep my answers vague. "I'm not sure what their history was, but he did all of this for her. All of it. The war. The struggle. It was all in her name. He wanted to free her."

Caleb nods. He's always been sentimental, which is part of what makes him a good man. "I see. What happened? You didn't kill her."

"I wanted to have a word with her and assure her that she would be safe, but she was too scared. She had a knife hidden in her skirts and...well, you know the rest."

"She must've been terrified."

I nod.

Suddenly, he smiles. "There's a tale spreading around the camp, Lucien. Something about you killing for a woman. What's that about?"

I clench my jaw in displeasure. Of course, such a story would circulate among the men. "You should know better not to listen to such tales, Caleb."

"It's true then?" His eyes are gleaming with humor. "You killed for a woman?"

"Go back to work, Caleb."

"Yes, sir."

I watch as he disappears through the crowd of men. I didn't kill that man just for touching her—they know the rules and they're aware that they need to be obeyed.

No man violates a woman, not in my troop.

Anyone who disobeys me is better off dead. We've had enough cruelty under the rule of the Alphas. This is a new world we're building—one where those who commit crimes actually pay for them.

I head back inside the tent, knowing that I have nothing useful to do there, but I'm intrigued by Ingrid, and I'm wondering what she could be doing alone all this time.

I don't spot her as I enter, not right away, and I immediately assume she ran away. But then I see her curled into a ball close to the fire. The tub has been emptied and cleaned, and she's fast asleep, her face pink from the heat of the flames.

I stare at her for a long time, taking in her figure. I recall the scars and feel angry at the person who inflicted them. They're old, so she must've been young when it happened.

Who could've hurt her?

Her feet catch my attention, and I suck in a breath when I see how they're red, swollen, and covered in old blood. Has she never walked before? I saw her killing, but I didn't think she was this hurt.

On top of that, I gave her more work.

A sound of disapproval escapes my lips and I head out of the tent. I should be focused on more important, urgent matters, yet for some reason, I can't get her out of my mind.

I'm on a path to trouble—that I know.

Because already, she represents everything I've always been against.

And I can't do a thing about it.