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Chapter Sixty Six
Maddox POV
Warriors crammed into every inch of the entrance hall. Some spilt out of the kitchen and office, others piled on the balconied landing behind me. Hundreds of warriors, stood waiting for me to address them. Skye stood at my side at the top of the staircase. Casper, Serena, Blake and Lena stood behind me. The silence was sickening, deafening. Even the birds in the trees beyond our fortified walls stopped their singing and listened.
Our families were secreted away in Greystone Manor. Whisked away amid tears and goodbyes to safely live another day. We all knew some of us would not live to see them again. My Gran took it hardest of all, wringing her hands in her apron and sobbing hysterically as she was forced into a four-wheel drive and taken away to safety. She knew as well as I did what needed to happen. Only I could force the cure into Alaya. And I would not survive it.
Skye gripped my hand, her palm damp from the t
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I gazed into the cracked mirror, pursing my lips. It didn't matter that it was cracked right down the middle. There wasn't much to look at anyway. I wasn't ugly just plain. Plain, unnoticed and unwanted. "Runt," the Luna's piercing shriek split the crisp morning air. "Runt," she screeched louder. Runt. I wasn't worthy of a name. I yanked my limp, mousy hair into a messy top knot and dragged my aching body from the floor. The future Alpha turns 18 in three days. The celebration started two days ago and I was the one who had to do all the cooking and cleaning and decorating. I attended to the pack's every need. It's how I earned my keep. I guess I should be grateful. Some rogue and lost wolves are abused or killed by the pack who finds them. I'm ignored when I'm not needed. Unless they want something I don't exist. "RUNT," the Luna barked.
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I placed the last pot back into the cupboard, wiped my wet hands on the back of my ripped jeans and leaned against the stainless steel counter. The Omegas had all left to get ready for the feast an hour ago leaving me with a mountain of pots to wash. My back ached, the soles of my feet burned and my hands were cracked and weeping. I straightened myself up, arching my neck to stretch out the stiff muscles. Lower in the pack than even the Omegas my head was permanently bowed. A piercing trill shattered the blissful silence. I heaved myself towards the stove and slammed my hand against the timer. In less than an hour, all the local packs would start arriving for the feast and I was supposed to be waiting to serve them. The walk from the packhouse to the Alpha's cabin was less than a minute on foot but every step was an effort. My bones ached. My joints screamed for mercy. Since the celebrations
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