Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 41: _ Pretty Flower in a Pigsty

Chapter 41: _ Pretty Flower in a Pigsty

The villa was silent when I arrived, away from prying eyes and the body on my shoulder slouching like it could fall flat anytime soon.

Only the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of the wooden beams of the compound disturbed the stillness.

The gates were guarded, as expected. Two men, dressed in dark jackets with pistols draped at their sides, stood at attention. They weren’t speaking much, just exchanging tired glances, eager for their shift to end

Perfect.

Since they couldn’t see me, I needed a distraction. I reached for a nearby pile of stones and, with a flick of my wrist, sent one flying toward the trees behind them. It wasn’t easy with Clara’s weight on my shoulder, but I did it.

The sharp snap of the impact made both guards jolt upright.

"The hell was that?" one of them muttered, gripping his weapon.

"Probably just some animal," the other replied, though he didn’t sound convinced.

Idiotas! I grunted. A little more convincing, then.

With a whispered incantation, I made the branches of a tree twist vigorously, cracking loudly as though something large had crashed into them. This time, both guards flinched

One cursed under his breath while the other, hesitating for just a second, moved toward the gate to peer outside.

"Go check it out," the first one urged.

"I’m not going alone," the other snapped.

"Then let’s go together. Just be quick before Don Diego finds out we left our post."

As soon as they unlatched the heavy gate and stepped out, I slipped inside, silent as a shadow.

I was so good at this.

I moved quickly with soundless steps as I made my way toward the pig stables.

But as I neared my destination, I encountered something—or someone that I knew in an instant would change my life forever.

Up ahead, a figure moved in the darkness, their shape outlined faintly by the moonlight. My brows furrowed. Who would be out here at this hour?

That was my entertainment ground. I needed to watch Clara get eaten. This was supposed to be an uninterrupted process!

I was about to command fire on whoever it was when I saw her clearly.

She carried a blanket draped over her arms, her soft hands clutching its edges as she walked toward the stables. The soft glow of the flashlight she held illuminated her face, and for the first time in a long, long time... the sight of her stirred something foreign in my chest.

She was... hermosa. No—beyond that. She was breathtaking, like a rare flower blooming in the wrong place—too soft and pure for the world she lived in.

Who could have thought there ever was someone who looked like they had been created in the form of a soul itself?

I could have sworn I was staring at the face of a soul. If that made sense at all.

Her features were peaceful—almost ethereal. I’d bet my master on it that she was carved by the gods themselves.

Her dark lashes framed deep, soulful eyes that held a quiet kind of sadness—an innocence that didn’t belong in a place like the stables where the pigs feed on every dead body I presented to them. Her red hair cascaded down her back, swaying with every fearful step she took.

She was a flower. A rare, untouchable bloom in the middle of this wretched place.

For a man like me—who thrived on power, on cruelty, on breaking things until they crumbled—this feeling was foreign. But I felt it.

As clear as day.

She stole my breath. She stole my focus.

She stole me.

I watched as she reached the pig stables, pushing open the wooden gate with some effort. The pigs inside grunted, their massive bodies shifting restlessly. She paused with a gasp, kissing a tightened finger as she muttered a silent prayer.

And then, she attempted to step inside like the prayer was all the shield she ever needed. Or maybe the kiss. Girl, my kiss was the answer. I was the answer!

Her presence immediately disrupted the animals.

One of the pigs let out a sharp squeal, and she stumbled back slightly.

I clenched my fists.

For the first time in my miserable existence, I wanted to intervene—not for power, not for sport, but for something else entirely.

I had come here to dispose of a body.

Now, all I wanted was to know her name.

I watched her, completely transfixed. The pigs were restless, their heavy bodies shifting and snorting as if they sensed an intruder in their space. She clutched the blanket tighter against her chest, her fingers curling around the fabric like it was the only thing anchoring her.

Then, to my utter confusion, she stepped inside.

She wasn’t feeding them. She wasn’t cleaning. She wasn’t doing anything that made sense for someone to be here at this hour.

The pigs stirred even more, their snorts turning into impatient grunts. One particularly large one, a beast with thick bristles and a scar running across its snout, let out a gruff sound and stomped its hooves.

She flinched but didn’t turn back.

What the hell was she doing?!

I dimmed my eyes, watching closely.

She wasn’t here to work.

She was trying to... sleep?

What the hell?

At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but then I saw it—the way she carefully maneuvered around the pigs, searching for a clear spot on the hay-covered floor.

She spread the blanket out, shaking it softly before lowering herself onto it, curling up as if she had done this a hundred times before.

This girl was sleeping in a pigsty.

Somebody tell me my pretty flower wasn’t doing that!

Who was she? Why was she here? And, more importantly, why the fuck was she living like this?

Was she a maid? Did Don Diego put her up to this?!

If yes, I swear by my father’s grave, I’ll gut him. First. I’ll rip his eyes out, and carve out his every rib before feeding his heart to the rats.

On my soul, I swear.

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