THE SILENT REBELLION

Chapter 2

I rolled my head around and stretched the tense muscles in my neck. She was still helping me, even after her death. All the lessons she had taught me lay just beneath the surface of my mind, waiting to surface when I needed them the most.

We took the tray to the table, placing it in front of the seat at the head. My grandmother stood by the chair, holding the ladle, with an omega beside her. I could tell she was an omega—not just because my wolf could sense her low-level power, but also because her shoulders were stooped, a telltale sign of her role.

I sighed internally at the archaic system. I was about to sit when a clawed hand yanked my elbow back.

"We do not sit before the men," a voice hissed in my ear.

I turned to see the women lining the walls, their heads down as the men filled the seats. Some glanced at me—curious, sneering, indifferent—but no one spoke. Most didn’t acknowledge the other women either, though I caught a few brief nods between mates.

When my grandfather entered, the men stood and bowed their heads, as did the women. I wasn’t fast enough, and a growl of warning made me flinch. I quickly followed suit, bowing lower than usual, hoping to make up for my mistake.

After a long pause, I sighed in relief as he sat down. My excessive submission seemed to have been enough. The men followed, and it was immediately clear that there was no room for the women at the table. My grandfather was served by my grandmother, who then passed the ladle to the omega, who served the others, careful not to touch anyone.

The men waited for my grandfather to start before they took their fill, eating quickly, calling for seconds without sparing a thought to the women who had yet to eat.

I watched them, curious to see if they enjoyed the gruel they were given. There were no grimaces or reluctance—this must be what they were used to. I almost laughed; they deserved it. I had no intention of giving them anything better. Maybe I’d keep my secret cooking skills to myself.

When most of the food had disappeared, my grandfather spoke.

"Everyone is to assemble in the courtyard at 8:30. No exceptions." He turned to the women, adding, "I expect all your kitchen tasks to be finished. I don’t want to see a dirty kitchen later."

I glanced at my watch—8 o'clock. How were we supposed to eat and clear up in half an hour? My mouth opened, but as if on cue, my grandfather’s icy gaze locked onto mine. His cold blue eyes bore into me, and I could feel the weight of his power. It was too strong for words to escape.

I closed my mouth and bowed my head.

The men stood and left the table, leaving their mess behind. The moment the door shut, the omegas rushed to clear the table, collecting bowls, cups, and spoons while the other women took their seats.

My grandmother caught my eye and gestured for me to sit beside her. I obeyed, though my instincts urged me to help the omegas. Tomorrow, I would.

We served ourselves, starting with my grandmother, who passed the bowl to me. I took just enough, mindful of the others, and passed it along to Eldra, the lemon-faced woman, who shot me a bitter look full of hatred. What had I done to deserve that?

My thoughtfulness was wasted when I saw other women heaping large portions onto their plates.

"What will the omegas eat if the porridge runs out?" I couldn’t help asking.

"Nothing." My grandmother’s reply was cold.

"But why? Is there nothing else to eat? Why don’t we make enough for everyone?" I couldn’t understand.

"Whatever we make is enough. The men and highers take what they want—it’s their right. If there’s nothing left for the Lowers, they do not eat. We do not waste money or resources here." Her tone left no room for argument.

"But it’s not wasteful to feed hungry people."

I couldn’t stop myself.

"If they do not survive, they are too weak for our pack. If they cannot cope with hunger for a few days, they do not deserve to stay. Now enough, Greta, eat." Her hand slammed down on the table, but I was too struck by the horror of her words to respond.

"You don’t let them eat for days?" My voice cracked with disbelief.

"Enough!" she snapped, her patience clearly worn thin. "You do not question our ways. These rules have been in place since the beginning. Stone Mountain Pack follows them to the letter. Honor is in obedience."

I stared at her, wide-eyed. My mother had tried to warn me, but seeing it firsthand was far worse.

"Grandmother, it’s not okay to let people go hungry when you have more than enough."

A gasp went around the table, and before I could brace myself, she slapped my already throbbing cheek. The sting sent a shock through my body, and I cried out in pain.

"I said ENOUGH!" She slapped me again on the same cheek, and I was sure a bruise would form.

The omegas were still scurrying about, heads lowered even further.

"Looks like none of them will eat today," a gloating voice said. The woman had already filled her bowl, spitefully ladling the last of the porridge into it.

"Your words caused this," my grandmother said coldly. "You’ve made them go hungry."

Her words stung, and the guilt weighed heavily on me. How could she be so cruel?

She raised an eyebrow. "You will learn obedience, Greta." She turned back to her breakfast, and the other women followed suit.

The omegas sat at their empty places, heads bowed. There were four women without food at the table, and I couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking, I stood and took my bowl to them.

"Greta, what are you doing?" My grandmother’s voice was sharp with anger, but I didn’t stop.

"I haven’t got much, but I’ll share what I can." I spooned my breakfast into their bowls, sharing equally between the four women.

"Stop," my grandmother commanded.

Ignoring her, I continued, and after a few moments, I returned to my seat, taking my own spoon.

"You yourself said it was up to the Highers how much they wanted, Grandmother. I decided I wasn’t as hungry as I thought."

I saw the tension in her face, her wolf snarling at such disrespect. But my words were true.

"You will learn, girl," she snarled. "And seeing your defiance, I foresee a long and painful journey for you. I look forward to seeing you humbled." She went back to her breakfast, dismissing me with a cold glare.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.

My wolf leaned against me, not with oppression but with pride. She supported me, but I could sense her worry. Her thoughts echoed in my mind: *You are strong, Greta. Do not falter.*

I forced my worries aside and lifted my spoon.

When I ate the first bite, I was glad I had shared my portion. It didn’t matter what my grandmother thought.

We finished quickly, and the clearing up was swift. No one dared waste a moment. The air was thick with tension, the pressure palpable.

I hoped that someday things would be different, that there could be laughter, joy—anything but this crushing sense of duty.

Suddenly, I felt a soft squeeze on my hand.

I gasped, looking up to see one of the omegas hurrying away, her expression worried.

I thought about the strange rules—no touching the males, no touching anyone but another omega. I wouldn’t betray her.

"Sorry, I stubbed my toe." I muttered quickly, trying to move on.

But it was clear something had shifted. The omegas were silent, their gratitude unspoken but felt. For the first time since I arrived, I felt a flicker of warmth. The first act of kindness, the first sign of affection.

It hit me harder than I expected. How low had my life become, that this simple touch made my chest tighten?

A surge of fear followed. Would my mother’s lessons be erased by the pack’s "training"?

I shook off the thought.

I wasn’t weak. I was strong. I would stand tall, even if the journey ahead was long and difficult.