The silence that followed their exit was louder than their words, sharper than Rowan’s slap. I lay there on the cold marble floor, my cheek stinging, my soul even more bruised than my skin. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My pride, my only shield in this cruel palace, had been shattered into a thousand pieces.
I had been foolish to hope.
Foolish to think that being their mate would mean freedom from pain. Foolish to think fate had smiled on me at last.
The tears came in waves. First quietly, then like a storm. I cried until my throat was raw and my body trembled. Alone in that room with nothing but pain for company. I didn’t know how long I stayed that way. Hours, maybe. The sun had fallen, darkness wrapped around the palace, and the cold of the stone floor seeped into my bones.
At some point, sleep stole me.
It wasn’t peaceful. My dreams were full of whispers and shadows, of hands gripping my wrists and voices laughing at me.
When I woke up, my throat was dry and my face stiff from the dried tears. My chest ached, not from any blow, but from something deeper. A wound no one could see. I dragged myself into a sitting position, hugging my knees, my mind wandering.
Was my father worried?
Did he know I wasn’t coming home?
My heart clenched painfully. He was sick when I left, and I was all he had. Would he think I abandoned him? Would he wait by the door, hoping to hear my footsteps?
I closed my eyes, biting down a sob. "I’m sorry, Papa," I whispered into the silence. "I didn’t choose this. I swear I didn’t choose this."
I didn’t want him to worry. He had enough pain to carry. If he knew what was happening to me, it would break him.
And I couldn’t bear to be the reason he broke.
Just then, the door creaked open.
She walked in like she owned the room, her expensive heels tapping against the floor, her lips curled in a cruel smile. Her golden dress shimmered, but her eyes were darker than hate.
"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping venom. "Look at the mighty mate of the alphas."
She tilted her head mockingly. "You must’ve thought the Goddess did you a favor, didn’t you? That you’d suddenly be something more just because you were claimed."
I stayed quiet, my body tense.
She stepped closer, crouching in front of me so our faces were inches apart. "But you’re still nothing," she hissed. "They are mine. You hear me? They’ve always been mine. You’re just a toy they’ll break when they get bored."
I swallowed hard, but my eyes didn’t leave hers.
Her smile turned even colder. "Stay away from them, Lisa. Or I’ll do more than ruin you." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺
She leaned in closer, her breath hot against my cheek. "I’ll kill you. And your sick, pathetic father."
She stood, smoothing her dress like nothing had happened.
"This palace belongs to people with power. And you? You’re just a mistake," she said, turning toward the door.
I sat frozen, her threat ringing in my ears like a curse etched into my soul.
Tears slid silently down my cheeks.
She didn’t leave right away.
She stood by the door, arms crossed, that cruel smile still playing on her painted lips. Her eyes raked over me with unhidden contempt, and when she finally turned, I thought maybe, just maybe, she was done.
But then, she called out, "One of you. Bring me some water."
A maid who had been standing by the entrance bowed quickly and disappeared down the hall. Within moments, she returned with a silver tray, a crystal cup resting atop it, brimming with clear, cold water.
Belinda took it in her manicured hand, swirling the water gently, almost thoughtfully. She brought it to her lips but didn’t drink. Instead, she turned back to me.
I licked my cracked lips, swallowing the dryness in my throat. It hurt. Every breath I took scraped like sandpaper against my chest. I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since I arrived. My body was trembling, my head pounding from dehydration and the blows.
"I..." I croaked, barely able to form the words. "May I... have some... water?"
The words felt foreign in my mouth, too dry, too desperate. My lips cracked as they moved, my throat burning from days of silence, hunger, and humiliation.
Belinda’s eyes lit up, but not with pity. No, what I saw glinting there was something colder, sharper.
"Oh," she purred, stepping closer, tilting her head like a curious cat toying with a mouse. "You’re thirsty?"
I nodded slowly, ashamed that I needed anything. But the ache in my throat had grown unbearable, and even pride had its limits.
She gave a soft laugh, one that curled around the room like smoke. "Of course you are."
She held the crystal cup delicately, like a chalice of mercy. I watched her hand, hoping, foolishly hoping, that she might actually give it to me.
But hope was dangerous. And cruel.
Without warning, her wrist snapped forward.
The cold water hit me like a slap, sharp and sudden. It soaked my face, clung to my lashes, ran down the curve of my neck and into the torn collar of my dress. I gasped, not from pain, but from sheer shock, blinking against the sting as the water ran into my eyes, mingling with fresh tears.
The cup slipped from her hand, crashing against the stone floor, spinning once before settling with a dull clink. The silence that followed was louder than the sound of its fall.
My hands shook, every nerve in my body screaming, but I stayed still.
Belinda leaned forward slightly, her voice low and vicious. "Did you think this was a joke? That their command was something you could bargain with?"
She scoffed, stepping over the puddle without care. "You’re not one of us, Lisa. You never will be. You are what they made you, nothing but a toy. A servant. And if I catch you asking for what you don’t deserve again..." She trailed off, her smile hardening. "You won’t like what happens next."
She turned on her heel, not even sparing me another glance.
The door shut behind her with a heavy thud.
I sat in silence, water dripping from my hair, the floor around me slick and cold.