She wasn’t allowed to wear clothes anymore.
Not in the Alphas’ quarters.
Not in the private parts of the estate.
Not in front of the betas.
Lina wore only two things now: the collar with the silver ring, and the bruises the Alphas left on her hips, neck, and thighs every night.
Her old uniform hung in the back of her closet, untouched for weeks. She didn’t scrub floors anymore. She didn’t carry linens or sweep halls. The other maids barely looked at her.
She wasn’t one of them.
She wasn’t staff.
She was property.
The Alphas’ shared mate.
The girl they fed from silver bowls and made kneel at meetings.
The one they made beg in front of their betas.
The one they’d breed before the next moon.
It started with Ronan’s mark.
He gave her no warning. Just dragged her to his bed, flipp
