Hiding the Alpha's Twins

MEGHAN I huffed a sigh as I mopped the halls of the richly-decorated pack house, my back already aching from the long day of work. I’d been up and going probably since 5 AM: the house had to be spotless – after all, this wasn’t a typical day. “Out of the way, you filthy slave!” a warrior growled, purposedly pushing me with his shoulder and cackling with defiance when I almost lost my balance. “And f*****g get to work, you lazy ass!” I made sure to mumble a “yes, sir, sorry sir”, keeping my eyes submissively cast down and my shoulders hunched. It was better, this way. Easier. I’d learned a long time ago not to defy those who were stronger than me – I’d never come out as the winner. It hadn’t always been like this, there had been a time when I hadn’t been a slave. A time when I still had been a member of my family, and of the pack. I was born as the daughter of the Alpha of the Dark Moon pack: me and my twin sister, Mylah, were our father’s only children, as our mother, the former Luna, had died shortly after our birth. Our father hadn’t been able to cope with the loss – he still grieved her to this day and had never married again. His pain was so great he couldn’t even look at my sister and me, he couldn’t help but see our mother’s reflection in our faces, so he’d given us to our grandparents, his father and mother, who’d taken upon themselves to raise my sister and me. Everything had changed the night of our eighteenth birthday. The night of our shifting ceremony in front of the whole pack, the ceremony that would officially mark our status of wolves, of Dark Moons. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the shame of that day. The way my father’s eyes had gleamed with pride while looking at Mylah and contempt and disgust while looking at me. As I remembered the way Mylah had easily, effortlessly shifted into her wolf, a beautiful, elegant, silvery white beast. And I, despite my best efforts, had remained stuck in my human skin, in front of the whole pack. Everything had changed that night. Mylah had a wolf, a wolf that looked like our father’s, and I didn’t – and that was more than enough for her to become his daughter again and for me to not only be forgotten, but punished for my misfortune. I have no use for someone like you! My father’s words rang through my memory, still as painful as when he’d pronounced them in front of the whole pack. The other wolves hadn't even tried to hide their chuckles. You are a failure and no daughter of mine. You are not worthy of calling yourself the daughter of the Alpha. There’s only one place for runts like you. That had been the start of my demise. From one day to the other, I’d found myself thrown from my grandma’s nice, comfortable home into the dark, dirty, and moldy quarters of the Omegas, relegated to be a slave. I had to learn quickly how to survive that whole new world, how to perform my chores, how to behave, how to make sure no one bothered me … but that hadn’t been the worst change or betrayal. No, that had come from my very own twin – my own blood: from one day to the other, Mylah had become a whole other person. She basked in the glory of being the official Alpha’s daughter, enjoyed our father’s love and pride and her new position, and wasted no occasion to remind me of the difference in our status. Don’t get me wrong. My sister wasn’t a saint before, and she’d always been a bit of a mean girl, but as soon as our father had given her an actual position of power, that trait of hers had grown exponentially – and I’d become the target of her bullying. With a cruel smile, the day after our birthday, she’d summoned me into her new room in the pack house, just to tell me she wanted me to be her personal maid now – she didn’t have to tell me why. She wanted to make sure I’d have to see every day what she had and what I didn’t: all the luxuries, the comforts, the finest things in life. All because she had a wolf and I didn’t. I never thought I’d ever be her victim, but here I was, mopping the house for her engagement party. The wedding was going to be in just a few days, under the full moon, she was to marry Jackson Ballard, the son of the Alpha of the Sharp Claws pack, our neighbors, and both packs wanted to celebrate their union and, most importantly, the new alliance. Daughters couldn’t take their father’s place as Alphas, they needed to marry, and therefore the wedding had been arranged, as it was the norm in situations like this. I remembered him from school – since our packs were so close, we used to go to the same high school. He was four years older than me, and he'd been in his senior year during my first one. Of course, he was the best in everything, with straight As in every course, all advanced, captain of the basketball team, and the absolute dream of every single uterus owner of the school. It didn’t help that he was also kind and humble – almost all too perfect to be true. Almost. I remembered the way he’d suddenly stopped talking to me, or even looking in my direction, the very same day after my and Mylah’s shifting ceremony, the few times he'd been around in the house. Not that I faulted him for that – no one wanted to have anything to do with the wolfless joke I’d become, but … It hadn’t been nice, either. “Meghan!” Mrs. Jones, the head Omega, yelled from the other side of the hall. “Are you done there?” “Almost done!” I replied, hastening to finish. You might think there was some kind of camaraderie between Omegas, between slaves – well, there was not. After all, they were still wolves, and wolves had certain instincts. Omega or not, the food chain only had one rule: prevail over your enemy. And Mrs. Jones played that game really, really well. I knew what she made the men do to the girls when she was unsatisfied with their work. I’d been the subject of their unwelcome attentions one too many times. I contained a shiver, feeling a phantom hand snaking up my thigh. I focused on my work – and five minutes later the parquet was spotless. I quickly grabbed the mop and bucket and went to put them away in the basement. Maybe I could sit down for a couple of minutes, I thought, eyeing my bedroll – yes, we slaves were not entitled to beds, either. The luckiest ones, those who still had a relative or two who cared for or pitied them, had a bedroll and maybe a pillow. I had both – my grandma’s gift. It wasn’t much, but considering the misery and suffering that surrounded me, it felt like pure luxury. I made my way towards my bedroll, hoping I could take a small break, and rest my aching back and shoulders… “Up, everyone!” Mrs. Jones’ voice rang through the packhouse. “The Sharp Claws are here!” I closed my eyes for a second, taking just that moment to mourn my moment of break. Clearly, that day I wouldn’t get as much as a second of peace. “The Alpha wants everyone out to greet them! Move, now!” With a sigh, I got up from my bedroll and joined the line, slowly walking towards the exit, when Mrs Jones violently grabbed my forearm, yanking me towards her. “Make sure no one sees you, runt.” she spat at me. “You don’t want to anger the Alpha or Miss Mylah.” Translated, my father and Mylah wanted to make sure I was and stayed invisible – that I would not cause any trouble. Sure, hide away the family shame. Pretend she doesn’t exist. I made sure to make a show of nodding and acting all submissive, and she finally let go of me. This was not gonna be nice.