The Alpha’s Fragile Mate

"Althea, are you blind?”

Cassandra's voice rang out across the crowded hall, each syllable dripping with scorn. Heads turned, the laughter and chatter of the pack's celebration dimming slightly as curious eyes swiveled toward the source of the commotion. Althea froze mid-step, the tray of empty glasses wobbling flimsily in her trembling hands.

She turned slowly, her chest tightening as Cassandra stormed toward her, every movement radiating fury.

“Look at this,” Cassandra spat, jabbing a perfectly manicured finger at the front of her lilac gown. A dark red stain marred the expensive fabric, spreading across the bodice like a blossoming wound. “Do you see that? You spilled wine on me. This dress is ruined!”

“I didn’t spill—” Althea began, her voice barely audible, but Cassandra cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me!” Cassandra snapped, her blue eyes flashing with indignation. “Do you even understand how expensive this dress is? Of course you don’t. You probably can’t even count that high.”

Althea swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as heat crawled up her neck. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You never mean to,” Cassandra sneered, taking a step closer. Her perfume was sickeningly sweet, cloying, and overwhelming. “That’s the problem. You’re a walking disaster, Althea. You ruin everything you touch.”

“She’s right, you know,” came a second voice, sharp and mocking. Chloe sauntered up beside her sister, her blond curls bouncing as she walked. She tilted her head, surveying Althea with a cruel smile. “Honestly, Cassie, why do we even let her out of the kitchen? She’s like a stray dog, always underfoot.”

Althea opened her mouth to apologize again, but her throat felt too tight, her chest constricting with shame. The weight of their stares, the laughter bubbling around her. it was too much.

“I said I was sorry,” she mumbled, her voice breaking, but Chloe only rolled her eyes.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do about it?” Cassie demanded, her voice rising. “You think a pathetic sorry is going to fix this?” She paused, then leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Gosh, you’re useless.”

The words sliced through Althea like a knife. She lowered her head, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. Her hands shook so badly that the glasses on the tray clinked together, their fragile sound a cruel echo of her own breaking composure.

“I’ll clean it,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“You’d better,” Cassie hissed. “And do it quickly. We can’t have the pack thinking we’re—”

“—as pathetic as her,” Chloe finished, her laugh ringing out like a bell, cold and sharp.

The sisters exchanged smirks, their identical features glimmering with malicious satisfaction. Their blond curls gleamed under the chandeliers, like crowns for queens who ruled through cruelty. Althea couldn’t meet their eyes. Her heart felt heavy, her pulse pounding in her ears as she turned and hurried toward the kitchens, clutching the tray like a lifeline.

“Move faster, Althea!” Vera's voice sliced through the air, halting her in her tracks. Althea turned to see her stepmother gliding across the hall, her emerald gown trailing behind her like a river of silk. Vera's expression was perfectly composed, her painted smile carefully calibrated for the watching crowd. But her eyes,those cold, calculating eyes. burned with disdain.

“You’re walking like an old lady,” Vera said, loud enough for several nearby guests to hear. A few snickered softly, though they quickly masked their amusement behind polite coughs. “Is this how you represent our family?”

“I’m sorry, Lady Vera,” Althea murmured, bowing her head.

Vera stepped closer, lowering her voice to a biting whisper. “I told you to stay in the kitchen. Do you enjoy humiliating us?”

“No, Lady Vera,” Althea replied quickly, her voice barely holding steady.

“Then do your job properly,” Vera said sharply. Her eyes flicked down to the tray, her lip curling in disdain. “And wipe that miserable look off your face. You’ll frighten the guests.”

“Yes, Lady Vera.”

Vera's attention shifted away as smoothly as if Althea had ceased to exist. Her smile snapped back into place, warm and radiant as she greeted a passing elder. Althea stood frozen for a moment, her cheeks burning with humiliation. Then she forced herself to move again, slipping into the kitchens where she could hide. just for a moment.

The kitchen was a blur of noise and movement,pots clanging, steam rising from boiling pots, servants darting back and forth with trays. No one looked at Althea as she leaned against the wall, pressing her trembling hands to her chest.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, unbidden and cruel.

“She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you.”

The memory hit her like a blow, and her knees wobbled beneath her. Her chest tightened, each breath coming faster and shallower. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away, but it clawed its way to the surface.

It had been a beautiful day,bright and golden, with the kind of warmth that felt like safety. Her mother’s laugh still echoed in Althea’s ears when she thought of it, soft and sweet, like the song of the river where it had happened.

Althea had been playing too close to the edge, the water rushing past with deceptive calm. She could still remember the icy shock as she slipped, the way the world tilted and spun as the river swallowed her whole. She had flailed, gasping, choking, until strong arms pulled her to safety.

But her mother hadn’t made it back to shore.

Her father’s face that day was burned into her memory,the raw grief, the rage. The way he had looked at her, not with love but with something colder. Harsher.

“You killed her,” he’d said, the words like a slap.

He never looked at her the same way again.

“Althea!”

The shout yanked her back to the present. She turned to see one of the younger servants standing in the doorway, his face flushed. “Lady Vera's asking for the wine. She says you’re taking too long.”

“I’ll bring it,” Althea said quickly, grabbing the nearest bottle and hurrying back into the grand hall. Her hands shook as she carried the bottle, her heart pounding with every step. She could feel the weight of invisible eyes, even when no one was looking at her.

Vera was waiting when she arrived, her expression sharp and impatient. “Finally,” she snapped. “Do you enjoy making me look like a fool?”

“No, Lady Vera,” Althea murmured, setting the bottle down carefully.

Vera leaned in close, her voice a low hiss. “You’re lucky I let you stay here at all. If it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in the woods somewhere, alone and forgotten. Is that what you want?”

Althea's throat tightened, her vision blurring. “No, Lady Vera.”

“Then act like it,” Vera said coolly. She straightened, smoothing her gown as though Lila’s very presence had rumpled it.

Before Althea could turn to leave, Cassie's voice rang out again, sickly sweet. “Oh, Althea, one more thing.”

Althea froze, dread curling in her stomach as she turned back around. “Yes?”

“Try not to embarrass us in front of the Alpha’s family,” Cassie said, her tone dripping with mock concern. “It’s bad enough you exist.”

Chloe burst out laughing, and Vera's faint smile twisted like a knife. Althea turned and walked away as quickly as she could, her steps unsteady, her vision blurring with tears.

The east wing was mercifully quiet. The celebration’s noise faded into the background as Althea scrubbed the elders’ chambers, her hands moving automatically. Her thoughts, however, wouldn’t quiet.

They hate me.

Her chest tightened as her father’s voice echoed in her mind again, cruel and relentless.

“She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you.”

The rag slipped from her hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud. She stood frozen, staring at it as her breath caught in her throat. Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back, clenching her fists until her nails bit into her palms.

“Althea.”

Her father’s voice cut through the silence like a whip. She turned slowly, her stomach twisting into knots as he entered the room.

“Why are you just standing there?” he demanded, his gray eyes cold. “The elders’ chambers aren’t going to clean themselves.”

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, bending to pick up the rag.

“Sorry,” he repeated, his lip curling. “You’re always sorry, but you never actually do anything right. Do you think that excuses your incompetence?”

“No, Father,” she whispered.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You bring shame to this family. Your mother would be disgusted if she could see you now.”

Althea flinched as the words hit her like a slap. Her hands shook, clutching the rag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“She’d still be alive if it weren’t for you,” he said quietly.

Her breath caught, her chest heaving as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—”

“Stop sniveling,” he snapped. “If you have time to cry, you have time to work.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, broken.

Althea sank to the floor, pressing her hands to her face as the sobs wracked her body. The weight of his words crushed her, and for a moment, she wished she could disappear.

They’d all be better off without me.

The thought lingered, heavy and bitter.