The first thing Faith felt was the sheets. They weren't the scratchy, thin cotton of her basement cot. These were cool, heavy, and felt like liquid butter against her skin.
She opened her eyes slowly. The ceiling was vaulted, painted with intricate gold leaf that shimmered in the morning sun. For a moment, she thought she was dead. Is this heaven? Do Duds go to heaven?
Then, the ache in her side reminded her she was very much alive.
She felt a sudden sharp pain as she tried to sit up. Her wrists were bandaged, the zip-tie burns treated with a cooling salve that smelled of mint.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," a voice muttered from the shadows of the room. You broke two ribs and dented a half-million-dollar car with your head. Most humans would be in a coma by now.
Faith looked towards the window.
He was standing there, silhouetted against the light. Alpha Killian. He had traded his suit jacket for a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms, corded with muscle and etched with dark, swirling tattoos.
Faith's heart did that strange, violent skip again. The "Mate" pull was a dull roar in her blood, even if she had no wolf to acknowledge it.
"Where am I?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
"In my house," Killian said, stepping into the light. His grey eyes were like flint. Which makes you my property until you explain why you were falling from the sky onto my Rolls-Royce.
Faith swallowed hard. She looked at the door—heavy oak, probably locked. Then back at the man who radiated enough power to crush her with a thought.
"I was….escaping," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Some men. They were taking me to a labor camp in the North."
Killian's eyes narrowed. He walked toward the bed, his movements fluid and predatory. He stopped just inches away, leaning down until his face was level with hers. Faith didn't flinch. She stared right back into those icy depths.
Most people—even Alphas—looked away when Killian stared. But this girl, this broken, wolfless thing, looked at him like he was just another problem to solve.
"You have no wolf, you're a Dud. Why would traffickers go through the trouble of drugging a Dud? You aren't worth the gas it took to drive the van."
The words stung, but Faith didn't let it show.
"Maybe they liked my face. Or maybe they knew I was smarter than the people they usually kidnap."
Killian let out a short, dry bark of a laugh. "Arrogant, too. I like that."
He reached out, his thumb grazing the bandage on her wrist. The touch sent a bolt of heat through Faith's arm, making her breath hitch. Killian's eyes flashed gold for a split second. He felt it too. The pull. The impossibility of it.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Faith."
Well, Faith. You've caused a lot of trouble. My car is in the shop, my guards are terrified because I almost executed them for letting a human onto the grounds, and you.... You smell like something I can't quite place."
He straightened up, his expression returning to a mask of cold indifference.
"Obviously, you have no money to pay for the repairs, and you're clearly running from someone, I've decided your fate. You'll work it off."
Faith gripped the silk sheets. "As a maid?"
"As my maid," Killian corrected. "You will be my Personal Shadow. You eat when I eat. You move when I move. You clean my private study—and only my study. No one else touches you, and you touch no one else".
but… why would you care if I touch anyone or if anyone touches me? Faith muttered.
It's not about you Faith...Rule number one, "Do not question my authority. Understood?"
Faith's mind raced. It was a golden cage, but it was a cage with a library and a roof that didn't leak. If she could stay here, she could find a way to finish her scholarship application. She could disappear once she had her degree.
"Understood," she said firmly.
A week passed.
Life in the Nightshade Mansion was a bizarre mix of luxury and labor. Faith was given a uniform—a simple, elegant black dress that fit her perfectly. She spent her mornings dusting Killian's massive library.
One afternoon, while Killian was on a frantic conference call regarding a failing tech merger, Faith was polishing the mahogany desk. She glanced at his computer screen. The code was a mess. The architecture of the software was outdated, causing the lag that was making him lose millions.
Without thinking, she leaned over. Her fingers hovered over the keys.
"What are you doing?" Killian snapped. He had ended the call.
Faith jumped, dropping her polishing cloth. "The…. the logic gates. They're looping. That's why your server is crashing."
Killian walked over, his brow furrowed. "You can read C++?"
"I can read most things," Faith said, her cheeks flushing.
Killian stared at the screen, then at the girl who was supposed to be a "low-life orphan." He stepped aside. "Fix it."
Faith sat in his leather chair. It was warm from his body, and the scent of him—rain and sandalwood—wrapped around her like a blanket. Her fingers flew. For ten minutes, the only sound was the clicking of the keyboard.
When she finished, the server light on the corner of the desk turned a steady, calm green.
Killian looked at the data. He looked at her. A strange, dark intensity grew in his eyes. He didn't say 'thank you.' Instead, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up.
"How did you get those brains, Faith? Orphans in the trenches don't learn system architecture."
"I taught myself," she whispered.
His thumb traced her lower lip. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Killian was fighting himself—his wolf wanted to claim her right there on the desk, but his mind and ego couldn't accept that a wolfless girl was his match.
Suddenly, the heavy doors of the study burst open.
A woman walked in, dripping in diamonds and smelling of aggressive, cloying perfume. It was Lady Elena, the daughter of a neighboring Alpha and the woman everyone expected Killian to marry.
She stopped dead, her eyes landing on Faith sitting in Killian's chair.
"Killian, darling," Elena hissed, her eyes glowing a jealous red. "Why is this.… creature sitting at your desk? And why does she smell like you?"
Killian didn't pull his hand away from Faith. If anything, he held her tighter.
"She's my maid, Elena. And she's currently more useful than your entire pack."
Elena's face deformed with rage. She looked at Faith—really looked at her—and a flicker of recognition crossed her face. "Wait. I know that face. You're the little Dud that Maya was bragging about throwing away."
Faith felt the blood drain from her face.
"Oh, this is interesting ," Elena smirked, stepping closer. "Killian, you're keeping a piece of trash. And trash…are meant to be disposed of."
Elena lunged, her hand shifting into a clawed paw, aiming straight for Faith's throat.
Faith didn't even have time to scream. But she didn't feel the claws.
Killian had moved faster than the eye could see. He caught Elena's wrist in mid-air, the sound of bones grinding together filling the room. He didn't even look at Elena: his eyes remained locked on Faith.
"I said," Killian whispered, his voice a terrifying, low growl that shook the windows. "No one touches her."
As Killian throws Elena out of the room, Faith feels a strange sensation she's never felt before. Deep inside her, something that has been sleeping for twenty years just opened its eyes.