Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 121: _ Nightmarish Life

Chapter 121: _ Nightmarish Life

Somewhere, in the blur of my agony, I heard my father sigh.

"Untie her," he commanded. "Let her crawl back to the dirt where she belongs."

The rope came loose, and I collapsed onto the dirt like a rag doll. My arms were too weak to catch me, my body too broken to move. My face hit the ground, dust clinging to my tear-streaked cheeks.

First, I heard footsteps and then, fading voices.

They were leaving me there.

Like an animal.

Like nothing.

A broken sob wracked my body, my fingers curling weakly in the dirt. My entire back pulsed with unbearable fire. Every breath I took was sending fresh pain rippling through my ribs.

I had no strength left.

I wanted to disappear. To sink into the earth and never feel this pain again.

Just then, I thought I heard some movement.

From the corner of my eye, a shadow shifted. Someone was watching. For one wild, desperate moment, I thought—Axel.

But no.

The figure stayed only for a second longer before slipping away, vanishing into the darkness.

Leaving me alone.

Bleeding.

Crying.

And knowing, with sickening certainty, that this was not the last time I would suffer at my father’s hands.

Who the hell was that?

Something about their aura gave me the creeps.

Was it a servant, maybe?

No. None of them would dare to defy my father by sneaking out here. Someone from the pack? Unlikely. The gates were guarded, and anyone who valued their life wouldn’t trespass onto Don Diego’s estate.

Then who?

A chill that had nothing to do with the morning air settled in my bones. Whoever it was, they had been watching for a reason. And they hadn’t come to help.

They just wanted to see.

I swallowed hard but my throat was raw from screaming. My body begged me to stay down, to surrender to the pain and slip into unconsciousness, but a deep instinct screamed at me to move.

I had to get out of this courtyard. There were too many eyes and it would do nothing for my already crumbled reputation.

With a trembling inhale, I tried to push myself up. My arms shook violently, my muscles useless and aching, and I barely managed to lift my head before my strength gave out.

I collapsed with a whimper, dust kicking up around me.

Dios mío... I couldn’t even sit up.

I clenched my teeth, humiliated beyond words. My father had said it... he wanted me to crawl. And now, here I was, sprawled in the dirt, unable to do anything else.

But I would not crawl.

I gritted my teeth and forced my arm to move, dragging it forward by mere inches. My nails scraped against the dirt, and I let out a gasping sob, the effort costing me more than I had left to give.

I can’t do this... I thought. I’d have to remain here on this spot until I mustered a little energy to move at least.

That’s what I concluded on until I heard a pair of footsteps approaching.

Lighter than my father’s men and cautious.

Please, don’t let it be anyone who wants to come to rub salt in my wound.

Then, a soft voice whispered:

"Señorita..."

The voice was soft and hesitant. I barely had the strength to lift my head, but I managed to shift my gaze enough to see a pair of scuffed leather shoes in front of me.

The person was skeptical, toes curling against the dirt like they were debating whether touching me would bring them bad luck.

I couldn’t blame them. I must have looked like a wretched, broken thing sprawled across the ground with my body half-covered in dust, my dress torn and stained with blood.

I probably looked like a ghost.

A few more footsteps shuffled around me. Whispers filled the courtyard like rustling leaves.

"Is she dead?" someone murmured.

"Of course not, you idiot. She’s breathing."

"Could be a trick. Maybe she’s summoning the Devil as we speak."

I would have laughed if I wasn’t in so much pain. Summoning the Devil? Dios mío, if I could summon anyone, I would have called a doctor since I had a body that was synonymous with that of a human’s.

One of them, an older woman, judging by the scratchy, worn voice—sighed heavily. "Well, we can’t just leave her like this."

"Why not? Do you want to end up cursed like Juana?"

At the mention of Juana, a few gasps spread through the small crowd. The nervous energy in the air thickened like humid summer heat.

I clenched my fingers weakly in the dirt, my nails scraping against the ground. I didn’t have the energy to defend myself against their ridiculous superstitions.

"Bah," the old woman scoffed. "This girl isn’t cursed. She’s just..." Her voice trailed off. Even she couldn’t find a word for my pitiful state.

"Unlucky?" someone offered.

"Foolish?" another chimed in.

"Possessed?"

I groaned though it came out as more of a pathetic whimper.

"Enough," the old woman snapped. "Do none of you have human feelings? Look at her! If we leave her out here, she’ll probably pass out and get eaten by stray dogs."

That must have been the winning argument because, after a brief silence, someone sighed dramatically.

"Fine. But if I wake up tomorrow with my hair falling out, I’m blaming all of you."

Before I could protest—or ask why on earth they thought touching me would result in baldness, a pair of rough hands gripped my arms.

I bit back a cry as they lifted me, my bruises flaring with fresh pain. The world spun, and for a second, I thought I might actually pass out.

Two servants; men, by the feel of their strength... hauled me up, supporting my weight between them.

"She’s light," one of them grumbled.

"Yeah, well, starvation will do that to you."

I would have rolled my eyes if I had the energy. Wonderful. Now, not only was I cursed, but I was also a walking exemplary tale about proper nutrition.

They carried me toward the house. The others trailed behind, muttering amongst themselves.

"If Don Diego finds out..."

"He won’t. We’ll be quick."

"What if she bites someone?"

"What if she bites someone? What do you think she is? A rabid dog?"

"I don’t know! She looks like she could be possessed!"

"For the last time, she’s not—"

"She’s definitely cursed, though."

The argument continued as they navigated the hallways. Every step they took sent fresh waves of pain through my body, but I kept my mouth shut. Complaining wouldn’t do any good.

Eventually, they passed me off to two women, whose familiar perfume told me they were Giulia and Letizia.

They clucked their tongues in dismay.

"Dios mío," Giulia muttered, her gentle hands adjusting my weight. "She’s worse than I thought."

Letizia sighed. "I’d help her clean up, but I don’t want to end up like Juana."

"You think Don Diego would punish us for helping?"

"Do you not think that?!"

Giulia sighed. "You’re right. It’s best we leave her to rest."

They carried me into my room, their footsteps softer now. My eyes barely focused on the bulb light as they lowered me onto my bed.

"Try to sleep, Señorita," Giulia murmured.

I wanted to thank her. I wanted to say something. But the moment my head hit the pillow, the exhaustion swallowed me whole, and I slipped into darkness.

I hope I don’t wake up. Death was better than this nightmare I called a life.