Rejected, I Became the Alpha Queen

The instant the ice water came crashing down over her head, Seraphina Salvator's eyes flew open.

The cold bit through her hair and slid beneath her collar, soaking the faded old shirt whose cuffs had worn into frayed threads. She lay curled on an old mattress in the corner of the garage, shivering so hard her teeth knocked together. Water dripped from her chin onto the concrete, splashing into tiny scattered droplets.

"Get up."

Vesper Anderson's voice came from above her, as cold as the water. Seraphina lifted her head and saw her mother standing over her, still gripping the empty metal bucket. The garage door stood half open, and the gray-white light of early morning forced its way through the gap, illuminating the undisguised disgust on Vesper's face.

"Breakfast better be ready before seven." Vesper threw the bucket onto the floor with a clang. "You're making it for everyone."

"Yes."

Seraphina did not say another word.

In this house, there was no difference between saying okay and saying yes. Any unnecessary word earned her a slap—or something worse.

She pushed herself upright against the edge of the mattress. Her knees were stiff and sore from being folded against the cold floor all night. The soaked shirt clung to her skin. Hugging her arms around herself, she lowered her head and passed Vesper without a word.

"Disgusting," Vesper said behind her. "That smell on you. The mildew from the garage has seeped all the way into your bones."

Seraphina did not look back. She hurried across the yard and entered the kitchen through the back door.

The kitchen glowed beneath warm yellow lights, a world apart from the garage. Fresh ingredients covered the marble counters, the cookware shone, and the sweet scent of last night's apple pie still lingered in the air. This was a room Seraphina was forbidden to enter—unless there was work to be done.

She opened the refrigerator and took out the eggs, bacon, milk, and butter. Her hands moved with practiced ease, requiring no thought. She had been making breakfast for the entire family since she was six. At fifteen, she had been doing it for nine years.

Measure the ingredients. Beat the eggs. Heat the pan. Every step had been carved into her muscle memory. She cracked twelve eggs: four for her father, Wesley Anderson, three each for the twins, Everett Anderson and Wesley Jr., and two for her mother.

The bacon hissed in the skillet, filling the kitchen with the rich scent of hot fat. Seraphina's stomach cramped. Yesterday, she had eaten only a piece of dry bread—something Tessa Anderson had left on her plate and thrown away. The hunger was quickly forced down. Her body had learned to live with it.

"Ugh. What smells so awful?"

The lazy voice came from the kitchen doorway. Tessa Anderson leaned against the frame, her golden curls spilling over her shoulders. She wore a silk robe Seraphina was not even allowed to touch. Tessa was a year younger, but being an Omega earned her privileges Seraphina would never receive in this house: a chair at the dining table, decent clothes, and the right to bully others.

"Did you sleep beside the trash cans again?" Tessa walked in, pinching her nose with theatrical disgust. "No, wait. Even the trash cans are cleaner than you."

Seraphina kept turning the bacon and said nothing.

Her silence did not satisfy Tessa. It only made her angrier. She came up beside Seraphina and suddenly shoved her shoulder. Seraphina was holding the skillet of sizzling bacon. The force sent her stumbling, and the spatula slipped from her hand. Several drops of hot grease splattered across the back of her hand.

Pain stabbed sharply into her skin. She bit down on her lip and made no sound as the back of her hand flushed red.

"Clumsy idiot." Tessa sneered. "Mother lets you make breakfast because you're useful. Don't think that means—"

"Tessa."

The old but steady voice came from the far side of the kitchen. Seraphina looked up and saw Nadia Winterbourne standing at the entrance to the hallway leading into the main house.

Her grandmother, Nadia.

She was a former Luna—and the only person in the house who never called Seraphina a bastard or a worthless piece of trash.

Nadia wore a dark-gray wool dress. Her silver hair was braided and hung over her chest, and her back remained perfectly straight. Her eyes were pale gray, like fog on a winter morning, and they rested calmly on Tessa.

"Leave," Nadia said.

Tessa's shoulders drew in at once.

"Grandma, I was just—"

"I said, leave."

Tessa bit her lip, shot Seraphina one last glare, and shuffled away in her slippers. The kitchen fell quiet again, with only the soft sizzle of bacon in the pan.

Nadia crossed the room and looked down at the burn on Seraphina's hand. She did not ask whether it hurt. Instead, she opened a cabinet drawer, took out a small jar of ointment, and dabbed a little onto her finger before smoothing it over Seraphina's hand. The ointment was cool, and the sting eased almost immediately.

"Your mother told you to make twelve eggs," Nadia said, her voice giving nothing away. "But Wesley won't be home for breakfast this morning."

Seraphina paused. "Mother didn't say—"

"Of course she didn't." Nadia closed the jar and returned it to the drawer. "She wanted you to get it wrong. Then she'd have an excuse to punish you."

Seraphina curled her burned hand into a fist. Her nails dug into her palm, where the skin was already covered in old calluses and tiny scars.

Nadia took a small wooden box from the pocket of her apron. It was no bigger than her palm, its dark-brown surface polished smooth from age, its corners marked by years of knocks.

She set it on the counter and pushed it toward Seraphina. "Open it."

Seraphina hesitated. There was no lock, only a simple brass clasp. She lifted it and opened the lid. Inside, two objects rested on faded dark-blue velvet.

One was a necklace with a teardrop-shaped Onyx Pendant. Its black surface had been polished to a mirror shine and set in silver. Beside it lay a Moonstone Necklace, its milky-white stone carrying a faint blue glow beneath the kitchen light, like moonlight caught and held in place.

"What is this?" Seraphina looked up at her grandmother, her throat tight.

"Yours." Nadia reached into the box and lifted the Onyx Necklace. She slipped it around Seraphina's neck and fastened the clasp at the nape of her neck. The pendant settled just below her collarbone. Its black stone was cold against her skin, yet for one fleeting moment, the sensation made her feel safe.

"Grandma, I can't..."

"Aurelia."

The name sent a shock through Seraphina. Nadia had not called her that in a long time. The last time had been when she was four.

"Grandma, I'm Seraphina."

"You are Aurelia." Nadia cut her off, her gray eyes fixed on her. "You always have been."

She picked up the Moonstone Necklace and placed it in Seraphina's palm, closing her fingers around it. "Keep this safe. One day, you'll know who it's meant for."

"Grandma..."

"Listen to me." Nadia lowered her voice, and something in it left no room for argument. Her hand closed around Seraphina's. Her palm was rough, but warm. "You are special."

Seraphina opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The words pierced a place inside her she did not dare touch—not even by herself.

"Your mother, your father, your brothers and sisters," Nadia continued. "They don't know what they're doing. They think they're destroying you, but there is something inside you they cannot see."

"What is it?"

Nadia did not answer. She released Seraphina's hand and stepped back, her gaze moving from Seraphina's face to the Onyx Pendant at her throat. "Remember what I told you. The Moon Goddess does not make mistakes. Every bit of suffering you've endured here will become the strength that helps you rise one day."

A car engine rumbled outside the kitchen window. Someone was coming back.

Nadia quickly pulled her gaze away and settled once more into the impassive former Luna everyone knew. She picked up the jar of ointment from the counter and put it back in the drawer with brisk efficiency. "The bacon is burning."

Seraphina spun around to the stove. The edges of the bacon had indeed curled black. She fumbled to lower the heat, then scraped the burnt pieces out with the spatula. Behind her, Nadia's footsteps receded. The tip of her cane tapped against the tiles—knock, knock, knock—growing fainter with every step.

"Aurelia."

Seraphina turned. Nadia stood at the mouth of the hallway, half her face hidden in shadow.

"Follow your heart," her grandmother said. "No matter what happens."

Then she was gone.

Seraphina remained by the stove, the spatula still clenched in her hand. The Onyx Pendant rested against her chest, warmed by her skin. The Moonstone Necklace pressed into her palm. She lowered her eyes to it, and the pale glow within the milky stone seemed to move in a slow, languid current.

She had no idea what it meant. She did not know what Aurelia meant, either.

"Seraphina! Are you dead? Where's breakfast?"

Vesper's scream came from the dining room. Seraphina quickly shoved the Moonstone Necklace into her pocket and covered it with the hem of her shirt. She lifted the platter of bacon, with the twelve freshly fried eggs arranged on top, and hurried toward the dining room. The Onyx Pendant swung lightly with every step, its black surface striking her collarbone again and again.

The dining-room door opened before her. Twelve pairs of eyes turned in her direction.

Vesper sat beside the head of the long table, her face set in ice. Everett Anderson propped his chin on one hand, a smile at the corner of his mouth that made him look handsome and cruel at once. At the opposite end of the table, Wesley Jr. tapped his fork against his glass.

"Hurry up, worthless," Everett said. "I'm hungry."

Seraphina lowered her head and set the platter on the table. The Onyx Pendant slipped free of her collar and caught a thread of morning light, flashing black.

No one noticed.

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