Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 113: _ Dispose Of The Trash

Chapter 113: _ Dispose Of The Trash

My joy knew no bounds when Rosa didn’t insist on my scarf. However, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone did.

Only a matter of time before my secret—my and Axel’s secret got exposed.

NO.

I couldn’t let Axel down like that. I needed to protect us. I needed to protect what we shared. Rosa might be too nonchalant to give a damn about my sudden interest in scarves, but Camilla...

Oh, Camilla might come poke-nosing soon. Moon Goddess, I beg of you; help me this time. Just this once.

The first handful of trash hit me in the face before I could even flinch.

A putrid mix of old food scraps, torn rags, and something that smelled far too much like rotten fish splattered across my cheek, dripping my skin like an insult that wouldn’t wash away.

My body jerked, every nerve screaming in protest, but I didn’t dare react. Rosa wanted a reaction. She wanted to see me squirm, to see me break.

I wouldn’t give her that.

That was my only mode of defiance in this unnerving situation where I couldn’t dare make a move.

"Oops," Rosa murmured, tilting her head in false innocence. She dusted off her hands as if she were the one who had been dirtied. "Look at you, María José. You fit right in."

More laughter came flying into my ears. It was just Rosa’s, but it echoed in my head, bouncing off the cold walls of this miserable place and filling every crevice of my already flimsy pride.

Then, slowly, meeting my gaze, she picked up another handful. I flinched this time.

That was a mistake.

Rosa’s smirk grew wider. "Oh, don’t look so tense, hermanita."

The term of endearment tasted like poison coming from her lips. "This is only what you deserve."

I hate you.

The next handful wasn’t just trash. No—she grabbed a full, leaking bucket from the pile, one I was sure came from the kitchen, and with a delighted little buzz, she dumped it over me.

A sticky, wet splat resounded as grease-soaked food waste slid down my shoulders, dropping on my new dress—my one good dress... and matting in my hair.

What if Father demanded that I return the dress? Dios mío, what do I tell him then?

I had to hold my breath at the absolute stench that immediately enveloped me. I smelled like old onions, spoiled meat, and humiliation.

Rosa’s eyes glistened with satisfaction.

I had been wrong before.

She wasn’t the kind of person who pressed a knife against your ribs with a smile.

She was the kind of person who made you hold the knife, whispering sweetly in your ear while forcing you to twist it yourself.

And I hated that it was working.

"Now, since you’re already filthy, I’ll give you one more task." She stated.

I barely heard her. My mind was still in chaos, my body still frozen in place as I stood there, dripping with filth and dealing with different kinds of odors that made me physically sick.

"The trash," Rosa gestured lazily to the piled mess behind her, "needs to be taken to the pack’s disposal site."

I blinked.

The disposal site? That was servant’s work. And not just any servant’s work—work meant for the lowest-ranked among them. The kind of job no one wanted, the kind of job that made even them gag.

My abdomen cramped.

"Rosa..." My voice came out hoarse.

It was a whisper.

"It’s too much. It would take..." I swallowed, looking at the sheer size of the pile. "It would take at least ten trips."

Rosa’s expression didn’t change.

And even when it did, it was to grit her teeth in order to ensure the slap she delivered across my face made its best impact.

The force of it snapped my head to the side. A sharp sting bloomed across my cheek, the pain immediate and burning, like she had pressed a hot iron against my skin.

I gasped, stumbling back a bit. I brought my hand up to my face to feel the painful warmth on it. My fingers trembled as they brushed against the heated skin.

I should have seen it coming.

I had been slapped more times these past few weeks than some people ever had their whole life. The kicker was that there was much more awaiting.

This is the life of an Omega; the lowest-ranked member of the pack in a power-hungry pack world.

Rosa arched forward. "Do you think I didn’t know that?"

The amusement in her voice made me sick.

"This," she remarked, voice gentle, so sickeningly gentle, "is your punishment. You don’t listen, María José. You never do. And worse—you dare to want things that aren’t yours."

I wanted to tell her that Axel wasn’t hers either.

But the pain in my ribs, my burning cheek, and the absolute stench swallowing me whole made it impossible to speak.

Rosa straightened up, smoothing down her flawless dress—the same dress that had never once touched the filth around us.

"I expect you to be done by nightfall," she said as if this were just another order she was giving to a servant. "Or else..." She trailed off, her lips curving into a sly smile.

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I already knew.

If I wasn’t done, she would make me hate myself.

I stared at her retreating back as she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, covered in filth, surrounded by trash, my body aching in too many places to count.

And then, I was alone.

A lump formed in my throat.

But I wouldn’t cry. Crying wouldn’t do anything. It would not solve anything. I was done with crying.

I sucked in a shaky breath, forced my legs to move, and bent down to grab as much of the garbage as I could carry.

The quicker I started, the quicker it would be over.

This also meant a journey through the pack, and heaven knows what hell awaited me there.

Hell as in Luis Miguel and his cronies. Grr... I was so done for.