CHAPTER 7

>>>>>REX

Rex stood there, his eyes glancing around the whole place. It was the first time he had come to this side of the northern palace, and he was slightly fascinated. His gaze swept over the tall wooden walls, the ornate plates, the goblets, and then shifted to the faces of the slaves inside.

However, once Madam Estelle saw him, she knew at once that he was Prince Dominus's son. The news had spread like wildfire that he had returned with a son but no mate.Nothing in the northern palace was really a secret, so she knew no other child would have had the audacity to run around the way Rex was. Her lips curved into a smile as she quickly dropped whatever she was holding and wiped her hands on her clothes, that sinister grin morphing into something more welcoming.

“Hello, dear,” she said with a soft voice that surprised both Akira and the other slaves in the kitchen. “Come on, dear. What is your name?”

“What a pretty little pup,” she murmured, grinning from ear to ear.

Rex narrowed his gaze slightly to look at Madam Estelle, who was still smiling innocently. His eyes didn’t narrow from suspicion but from the casual arrogance that sat very naturally on his young face. He didn’t smile; his lips remained a thin, straight line that suggested quiet disdain.

The warmth in Madam Estelle’s voice did little to shift his expression. However, she still moved towards him with that wide grin, trying to touch him, but he took a step backward, his boots making a soft but deliberate sound against the polished stone floor of the northern palace's grand kitchen. He then backed away slowly, as though only half-interested in talking to Madam Estelle.

Madam Estelle paused, blinking rapidly, but she said again, “Hello, dear?” Her voice was even softer this time, with a maternal sweetness edging through.

Rex didn't answer right away; instead, he scoffed. His condescending attitude grabbed everyone's attention, especially Akira. She examined him, her eyes sizing him up and down. She rarely spoke to anyone, but she could see the striking resemblance to Prince Dominus. However, she had her doubts. For all those years she had been his plaything, she had never known he had a child, though she knew he had a harem of women he pursued when he felt like it. She quickly concluded that it must have been one of them who made the child possible. Though she couldn't really tell his age, northern wolves have a very fast growth rate. He was seven years and some months old but looked like a pup aged twelve to fifteen .Northern wolves always grow rapidly, especially those with Alpha blood.

Not only does their growth rate accelerate quickly, but their brains also develop rapidly, allowing them to speak more maturely than their ages might suggest.

Rex lifted his gaze, not to Madam Estelle's face but to the roof of the kitchen. It then drifted to the faces of the slaves who stood watching him, before finally settling back on her.

“Shouldn't you already know that?” he asked in a prideful tone, and silence settled in immediately.

The atmosphere shifted to one that was tense,extremely tense.

The room fell into an awkward silence.

Madam Estelle froze, her eyes widening slightly. The other slaves and Akira looked up, half in horror and half in amazement. Nobody had ever spoken to Madam Estelle like that.

Madam Estelle’s grin faltered; it stretched only for a second before she caught herself and let out a light, slightly forced chuckle.

“Oh, smart boy,” she said with a fake laugh. “Little Rex, you're welcome home.”

“My name is Rex!” He tilted his head, his posture casual but somehow commanding. “Not Little Rex. Perhaps you shouldn’t repeat that,” he said coldly.

That silenced her. With that, he walked off.

For the first time in a very long time, Madam Estelle was left without words, her hands nervously brushing invisible flour from her apron.

“I see,” she murmured eventually after Rex was gone.

Akira suppressed a laugh when her gaze flicked across Madam Estelle's face. She wanted to crack up so badly, but she remembered she might be hit and how she had messed up inside the hall just a few minutes ago. So she continued her work as Estelle yanked off her apron and walked off angrily.

After Madam Estelle left, the slaves burst out in genuine laughter. But that wasn't the case for Akira; she couldn't talk with them, so she just smiled and continued her work.

Later that night, Akira didn’t finish up on time and resigned herself to the slaves' quarters late. The faint scent of old sweat hung in the air as snores became a musical sound. Her body ached from standing all day, and her hands still tingled slightly from scrubbing the floors. She had expected the cold, hard mat and a scratchy blanket, but at least it was always empty for her to fall onto. However, when her tired eyes scanned the room for her space, she paused mid-step upon realizing someone was already on her mat. Narrowing her gaze, she saw the big bully, Thalia.

Thalia,six feet of thick, pompous she-wolf muscle with a mean streak and a loud mouth. Her skin glistened faintly with sweat, and her wild black curls were piled into a loose, messy bun. She lay with one arm flung over her eyes, as if she hadn't a care in the world, her massive frame taking up more than just Akira’s space.

Since she was abducted, Akira hadn't had any issues with Thalia, but she wasn't blind. She saw the way Thalia picked on the other girls.

The sight made something cold stir in Akira’s stomach. Genuinely, she wasn't ready for any of this; she just wanted to take a nap. Akira stood for a second, silently willing herself not to react—but she had to say something.

She took a slow breath and stepped closer. “Thalia,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake the others. “You’re on my mat.”

Thalia didn’t move. Akira frowned slightly and tried again. “That’s my bed,” she said this time, tapping her arm.

Thalia shifted just enough to crack one eye open, her thick lips twisting into a crooked smirk. “Oh, is it?” she said. “Didn’t see your name on it, so why should I believe you?”

Akira didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t the type to start a fight, not even with words. But her fists clenched at her sides. “You know this is where I sleep,” she said firmly, though still softly enough not to disturb the other girls.

Thalia gave a long stretch, her elbow almost knocking into Akira. “Find somewhere else. You could use my mat.” Akira narrowed her eyes toward where Thalia’s mat was. From a mile away, she could tell it was soaked with sweat and smelled terrible.

“I won’t use that,” Akira pointed out firmly. “It stinks.”

Thalia chuckled cruelly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Look at you,” she said, her eyes trailing over Akira as if she were filth on her boot. “Skinny as a spoon handle, scared to speak, and now you think you can come in here and tell me where I can sleep? Go sleep on the floor if you don't like my mat.”

Akira’s jaw tightened at that. But before she could react, Beth walked in on them.

“What is the problem?” Beth asked curiously, and Thalia jerked up on one elbow.

“It’s Nia or whatever she’s called. I don’t know what's gone into her head, but one more wake-up call from her and I’ll break her bones,” she threatened.

Akira opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her lips when she looked at Beth. Beth placed her hand on her lips, signaling her not to speak. Akira obeyed and followed her at once, even as she wondered why a senior maid like Beth would be scared of Thalia.

However, Beth took her to her room, another slave's quarters in the high tower. This space was made for some warriors and high-ranking slaves who now worked for the royal family. Beth shared her bed with Akira.

The second slave's quarters were quieter—no snores or sticky, sweaty smells. Akira stepped inside slowly, still unsure what to make of the entire situation.

Beth closed the door behind them with a soft click and turned around with a warm, almost motherly expression on her face. She was in her late thirties, with deep smile lines etched into her cheeks and a low, calming voice that somehow made everyone listen to her when she spoke—even when they didn’t want to.

“Here,” she said, patting the thin mattress. “We’ll share. I know it’s tight, but it’s clean. And quiet. No Thalia.”

Akira gave a brief, barely noticeable nod before quietly moving to the side of the bed Beth had gestured to. She sat down slowly, back straight, hands folded in her lap, as if unsure whether she was really allowed to sit.

Beth sat down beside her, exhaling a long, tired breath.

For a moment, there was just silence. Then Beth turned to her, eyes warm and studying her as if trying to piece her together.

“In here, sometimes ignoring things will take you further than trying to fight back. Do you know Thalia and the other she-wolves don’t like you?”

Akira looked at her but didn’t respond.

Beth waited a few seconds before continuing. “You don’t have to be afraid here. I won’t bite. And I’m not like Estelle or Thalia either. I’ve seen girls like you come in before—quiet, worn out, watching everything and saying nothing. You think it keeps you safe. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. You can always talk to me. My name is Bethany, and I'm from the southern pack.”

Still, Akira said nothing. She just sat there, eyes fixed outside. She had learned that anyone could be her enemy, so she kept to herself.

Beth sighed again and leaned back slightly against the wall. “I know you're wondering how I got here. My pack is still alive, unlike the Eastern pack, which was half-burned to the ground. For me, my father was a beta, and he banished me after my mother died in my care. I was just ten, and he believed I should have done something to bring his mate back to life. I stayed a rogue all my life until I met Madam Estelle and came into the northern pack. Since then, it’s been pretty good. I have my mate, and I serve the royal family.”

Akira swallowed hard, dissecting her story in her mind. Then Beth turned to her next. “So, what about you? Which pack are you from?”