Chapter 31

Olivia’s POV

Later that night, while I was sitting in my usual spot at the base of Damien’s bed, my thoughts stayed with my kin. I didn’t know how long they had been denied food until now, but I did know they couldn’t endure this much longer.

Everyone needed to eat, especially those that were forced into hard labor. To deny them food wasn’t just keeping them weak enough to not rebel, it was also endangering them physically and mentally.

People even as strong the werewolves could only be pushed so far.

Yet, up in this tower, what could I really do about it? Yeah, I had more allowances than the other slaves, curtesy of the man who called himself my master, but I wasn’t free by any means. Duke Damien wasn’t beholden to me in any way. He certainly wasn’t going to do any favors for me.

Even so, I thought of asking him. It was possible he didn’t know about how the slaves were being mistreated. Maybe, if I told him, he could step in and do things right…

I didn’t believe that, not entirely, but I felt I had to at least try. I couldn’t just do nothing, and Damien was the most powerful vampire in the world. If I had him on my side, there was nothing I couldn’t accomplish.

“Tell me, pet,” Damien said, startling me from my thoughts.

He was sitting at the table, shuffling through some papers. His eyes were down on his work, but as he was clearly talking to me, the only other person in the room, I immediately straightened.

“Your kind are similar to dogs, yes? Animals that are known for their loyalty. So why do your kin refuse to accept the natural order of things. Why can’t they simply be obedient instead of resentful against their betters?”

Any imaginings I had of bringing up the plight of the slaves being starved with Damien immediately vanished. At once, I was reminded that Damien did not see any werewolf on the same plane of importance as himself. Instead, we were just animals meant to serve him and the other vampires.

I knew, in this moment, it didn’t matter what I told him. He would never be sympathetic to me or to the other werewolves. He would never see us as anything more than pets. Animals to be controlled and punished.

“We are people, not animals,” I said in response to Damien’s question, but he was already shuffling through his paperwork again, not paying any attention to me. I guessed his question was rhetorical. But his lack of reply told me I had made the correct choice in not trusting him with the dilemma of the other slaves.

If he didn’t care about us as people, then he likely wouldn’t care if we were being underfed.

Since I was serious about solving this problem, I knew the only person I could truly trust to solve this problem was myself.

So I bottled up my words, pushed them down to the deepest part of me, and tried to think of a way to solve this without depending on Damien’s help.

I couldn’t do anything right now. I had to wait for the next time the slaves met in the cafeteria.

When that time arrived, I took my own portions of food and headed down to the cafeteria early. Usually, I arrived after the food had been served, when the slaves were already sitting down. Today, I wanted to see how the portions were divided out. After all, if only a few portions were given out, who decided what went where and who got what.

There had to be some kind of hierarchy.

When I arrived down in the werewolf cafeteria, I was in time to see the vampire guards wheel in the food supply for the day. It was clear from the size of the cart and how little food was packed onto it, that there wouldn’t be enough to feed even a quarter of the slaves in this room.

I’d been hoping that the werewolves would have organized some kind of distribution system like some kind of rotation, which made sure everyone would eat at some point or another and no one would entirely go without.

What I saw instead was that the physically more powerful male werewolves pushed to the front of the line, strong-arming their way to the food, even past the elders and the women. Because of this, all of the food went to those men and there was none left for anyone else.

When the food was gone, the next person in the line made it to the front, looked around, and then with hunched shoulders turned and told the rest of the group, “There’s no more.”

Everyone moved to the tables then, even those without food. I supposed they wanted to have a few minutes off their feet, regardless of whether or not they could actually eat lunch.

I noticed right away that Andy’s sister Angela was among the ones unable to get any food. She was empty-handed as she moved to the table where she usually sat with some other female werewolves of similar age.

I was still holding the food I had brought.

Angela might have hated me now, but there was once a time when she had been a friend to me. I couldn’t forget that, especially now, especially after all that Andy had done and had sacrificed to help me.

With those memories in my heart, I approached Angela’s table.

“Angela,” I said as I stood beside it.

She turned and looked at me, one of her brows raising high on her forehead. “What do you want?”

I placed the food in my hands down on the table right in front of her.

“I want you to have this,” I said.

Her curiosity immediately switched to disgust. “What makes you think I want this? Or that I want anything from you?”

“You’re hungry…”

“That doesn’t mean I need your help,” she snapped.

“Angela, please. I brought this to share…”

Her anger snapped then, and she pushed herself to standing. Turning to fully face me, her upper lip curled in a snarl. “Share with someone else. When I look at you, all I see is the woman who got my brother killed, and that turns my stomach. Seeing your face, I don’t have an appetite anyway.”

“I know you are mad at me, and you have every right to be,” I said, then gestured to the food. “But Andy wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”

“What the hell do you know about what Andy would have wanted? He would have wanted to be alive, Olivia!” Angela’s voice raised in her fury, and as it did, the rest of the room quieted.

One of the vampire guards looked over, his gaze focusing on us. I realized far too late that everyone else was sitting now, except Angela and me. And with the shouting, we were making ourselves a target.

“Angela,” I said, speaking softly in an effort to calm her. “Please, we’re making a scene…”

“Screw you, Olivia,” she said and pushed me.

It wasn’t a hard push, just a shove on my shoulders that made me stumble back a step. I was never in any danger of falling and I had no intention of reciprocating.

Yet after a blink, the guard was immediately at Angela’s side, grabbing her arm roughly like she was about to cause a riot.