A few weeks had passed since Casey and Lily moved into the cottage. The days had slowly begun to settle into a quiet rhythm, the kind that made her believe, for a moment, that peace might be within reach. Casey has even managed to get a job at a local bakery— a modest building near the heart of the pack village, filled with the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon.
Her role wasn't glamorous. She scrubbed the floors, cleaned the countertops, washed trays and made sure the front of the house was spotless for every customer. She didn't mind the work—it was honest and gave her something to focus on. She greeted every customer with a polite smile, kept her head down, and tried not to draw attention to herself. It wasn't much, but it was hers.
Then everything shattered.
That morning has started like any other. She'd arrived early, cleaned every surface twice, and helped prepare the trays for the lunch crowd. But in the midst of the noon rush, a sharp gasp from one of the tables caught everyone's attention.
"There's a roach in my bread!" a woman shrieked, pushing away her basket, her fingers trembling.
Gasps rippled through the small bakery. Casey's heart stopped as she rushed over, horrified. The cockroach—dead, burnt slightly at the edges—lay crushed beneath the still—steaming bread rolls.
Her supervisor stormed over, face twisted in fury. "What's this?" he hissed, snatching the basket from the customer's hands.
"I don't know," Casey stammered. "The bread just came out of the oven—I saw them seal the basket. It couldn't have—"
Her words were cut off as a sharp slap cracked across her cheek.
Pain bloomed across her face as her head snapped to the side. The bakery fell into stunned silence.
"You think I'll let this ruin my business?" her supervisor spat. "This place has run perfectly for years until you came here."
Casey blinked away tears, holding her cheek, too shocked to speak. The sting wasn't just from the slap— it was from the unjustness of it all. She had done everything right. Cleaned everything. Watched every tray. And yet, somehow, the blame was hers.
She worked the rest of the day with her head bowed and her body aching. They didn't let her leave when her shift ended, claiming there was still cleaning to be done. By the time she stumbled out of the bakery, the sun had dipped beneath the treetops and darkness spilling across the village.
The path home felt longer than usual, every step dragging along the way. She was bone— weary, her legs trembling, her face still throbbed with dull pain. All she wanted to do was to slip into the bed and hold Lily close to her.
When she reached the cottage, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Her blood ran cold.
She knew she had told Lily to lock it and not let anyone in.
Her grip tightened on her small satchel, and she stepped quietly into the kitchen. The lights were off. Shadows clung to every corner. That's when she heard it—soft murmurs. Lily's voice. But she wasn't speaking to herself. Someone was inside.
Without thinking, Casey reached for the nearest thing she could find— a cast iron pan sitting by the stove. Her fingers curled around the handle, knuckles white, as she crept towards the sitting room.
Just as she raised the pan, ready to strike, Lily screamed, "Mama stop it, it's the Alpha!"
Casey froze mid— swing. Her heart hammered in her ears as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. There, seated calmly in the chair by the fireplace, was Alpha Vlad.
Her stomach dropped. The pan slipping from her fingers and chatted loudly on the hard floor.
"Oh, spirits— Alpha, I am so sorry," she stammered, immediately falling into a bow. Her face flushed with embarrassment, made worse by the dried flour still smudged on her clothes. "I thought—I didn't know—"
Vlad stood. His eyes narrowing just slightly. "Why are you coming home this late?"
Casey hesitated, shame flooding her. She did want to speak I'll of the pack or stir trouble. But she couldn't lie to him either— not when he had shown her and Lily more kindness anyone had ever shown them.
"There was an...incident at the bakery." She said slowly. "A customer found something in the bread. It wasn't mine, but I was blamed. I was struck in front of everyone. They made me stay to clean."
His eyes darkened. "They struck you?"
She looked down. "It's nothing, I just wanted to come home to my daughter. That's all."
There was a long silence before Vlad's voice came again, steady but cold. "You won't return there."
Her head snapped up. "Alpha?"
"You'll no longer work at the bakery. From now on, you'll tend to the pack gardens and help in the clinic when needed. It's honest work, and we'll pay you fairly. You'll be treated with the respect you deserve."
Casey's breath caught. "I…thank you, Alpha. I don't know what to say."
"Then say nothing." he replied, moving towards the door. But he paused before stepping out.
"You're doing the best you can. That's enough."
And he was gone.
Casey stood there in stunned silence. Lily ran to her and hugged her waist, and for the first time in a while, Casey let herself cry—not out of fear or pain, but something close to relief.