His Wolfless Bride

CHAPTER 2: The Consequence

My heart lurches to my stomach when the men, with ill-favored faces, stride towards me.

I hold my hands up, then yell, “Wait! I didn't steal it! Someone pays it for me! But I’ll pay again, if that's what you want!… I-I have coins… gold coins!”

None of them listen. They keep striding closer while slowly encircling me. Market goers start to gather around, as if what’s about to happen to me is a form of entertainment they’re eager to witness.

I can’t run anymore. If I try, they might catch up to me this time. My strength hasn’t returned to me yet. I could still feel my legs vibrating from exhaustion. I’ll also be at a greater disadvantage if some of these guys turn into their wolf forms. For now, I can only come up with one choice to save myself.

I hold the bread to my chest with one arm while sliding my free hand inside my pocket. I then grope the pouch of gold coins so tight that I could feel my pulse at the center of my palm.

The price of this bread isn’t even a quarter of a nickel coin. If I hand them one or maybe two gold coins, will they let me go?

I swallow hard, trying to quell my apprehension. Building up some confidence, I take the pouch out of my pocket, then pick out two gold coins, which I immediately show to the men.

“See?” I say. “I can pay. This is more than what this bread is worth. I’ll give these coins to you, only if you let me go.”

A simper, which I don’t expect from one of the men, disintegrates my still shaky confidence. My hand, that’s holding the coins, trembles. I try to steady it, but fail.

“Why would we believe a thief like you?” the man with a wicked simper asks.

“Who knows? You might have stolen that from someone too,” someone from behind me adds.

I turn around and, without looking at anyone in particular, counter, “No! These gold coins are mine!”

“Ows? Really? How can a beggar like you earn such money?” another one of the men, the smallest of them, asks.

His question isn’t meant to obtain a real answer. He just asked it to emphasize that I look penniless and hopeless, which I agree and, I’m sure, the majority does too. People glare at me with pure disgust in their squinted eyes. If their glares are daggers, I might have been bleeding to death by now.

“Listen, young woman,” one of the bypassers, who’s standing at one side of about a few feet from me, says. “Why don’t you just take the bread since you’ve already taken bites from it, then just return the money to the owner and apologize?”

I shoot a glare at him. “I said it before. I didn't steal this bread and so are these gold coins!”

People glance at each other, then shrug their shoulders. Following that is a shrill of laughter that bridles the already stiff air. That stiff air restricts my ability to budge. My chest sharply thumps when one of the men, who are surrounding me, clutches my wrist, then forcefully pulls my pouch from my firmly closed fist. His nasty, calloused palms boil my blood with anger. I let go of the bread so I could move freely, before waving my arms and wiggling my body.

“Get screwed! These are mine! You can’t take them away!” I scream.

People watch, some even have the fondness to laugh and cheer for the man while scoffing at me.

No! He can’t have my money! It’ll save me from starvation for a year!

When desperation clobbers me, my brain doesn’t think twice. I sink my teeth into the man’s foul-smelling forearm. The saltiness of his sweat and skin stings my mouth, but I let my teeth sink deeper and just pray I won’t get poisoned by doing so. He yelps in pain as blood trickles down his dry, dirty skin. The next thing I feel is a heavy object being thrashed on the back of my head. The force causes my vision to blur and my knees to buckle. When the pain becomes too much to ignore, I release the man’s forearm. Then, my weight succumbs to the pain. While plummeting to the ground, I make sure to hold my pouch very tight close to my chest when a couple of hands are attempting to steal it from me. All I see are hazy silhouettes of people cramping on my face. Before I realize it, my fingers give up on their own, and soon,... my pouch is gone. My heart cries out about losing what could be my life-saver. It also cries out because of several heavy feet apathetically hitting my ribs and stomach. Each kick earns a pleading yelp from me.

“That’s enough!” a voice, of what seems to be a child, stops the beating I’m receiving.

I try to look, but it’s impossible to budge without feeling any pain. Though I can’t see the child’s face, whoever it is, I wanna thank him from the depths of my defenseless soul.

The tiny voice then adds, “Just bring her back to your Alpha.”

That crashes me and quickly retracts my gratitude.

“She’s not from our pack,” a grumpy voice responds. “But that’s a good suggestion. We’ll find what pack she belongs to, then we’ll send her there, so she can receive a far-worse punishment.”

“I agree!” another one adds with an enthusiasm I think is odd. “Who knows? Her Alpha might give us compensation for what she did here!”

My chest compresses and so do my hopes. The child is no savior, just like the lady who paid for my bread and the man who gave me the gold coins. They all put me in a far worse situation.

Helplessness coats my bone-tired mind, eliciting a tear to fall from my half-closed eyes. I have nothing else to do, but to expect to either almost die again or perhaps really die this time for accepting the offers of staying alive.

*********************************

Cracking sounds burst through the four corners of a small, dull room as the stingray’s tail is being whipped against my back. Every strike makes my skin burn and my flesh throb. The excruciating pain that my body is very familiar with, judders through me as if it’s always the first time. I’m always getting this kind of punishment from my pack’s higher officials, especially our Alpha’s daughter, Naomi. It’s her talent, her only talent - to abuse me. I fought back once before. I pushed her, took the whip from her, then tried to whip her too, but before the stingray’s tail could land on her skin, I was stopped by the others. My boldness and carelessness didn’t turn out well, of course. I was hung upside down on an aspen tree at the border of our pack’s territory for three straight days without food, not even a drop of water. I thought I was gonna die. Well, I hope I did die, considering that I experienced more beatings and abuse afterwards.

“How dare you give our pack a bad reputation?!” Alpha Naomi hisses without pausing her assault.

I grit my teeth and momentarily stop my breathing at her every strike.

Bad reputation? Our pack already has bad reputations that are well-known all over the kingdom even before I was born. Our pack is the poorest and the most primitive among Xethen’s five packs. And it’s all because of a long, deep-seated history of ineptitude and corruption of our Alphas and Lunas - your great, great, great grandparents, and now, your parents!

I wanna say that out loud, but my words are hindered by my fear - fear of receiving a much deadlier punishment.

Another harrowing yelp explodes from my drying mouth when the stingray’s tail hits my back for the nth time. I breathe through my mouth while curling my body. Sweat and blood blend on my skin. The assault continues for more than a minute, which I’m already anticipating to last for the entire day. Thank goodness, it stops when the door screeches open and a flowery scent swivels through the stale air.

“Mother?” Alpha Naomi mumbles.

Through the narrow slit of my swollen eyes, there stands our pack’s Luna. The fire being spitted out by her slanted brown eyes matches the brightness of her pixie-cut, red hair. When her eyes get tired of glaring, they twitch, but she doesn’t want anyone to notice to avoid looking less fierce than her husband or her daughter. She hunkers down, then clutches my jaw up so our eyes can meet. I can feel her anger through her fingertips that are squeezing my cheeks so tight.

“From now on, you’re not allowed to step outside our borders. If you do, you’ll be considered a rogue. If you get caught, you’ll die in my hands,” Luna Claudette says with sharpness.

She doesn’t wait for my response, coz, of course, my opinion never matters anyway. She shoves my jaw away from her grip, straightens her silk dress, then stands tall.

“Starve her. No one is allowed to enter this room for three days,” Luna Claudette adds.

Her voice, like the others, doesn’t showcase any tiny bit of sympathy, which isn’t a surprise. I'm nobody to her. She would never care for someone who would never give her anything special in return.

Moist assembles at the corners of my eyes and it blurs my vision more.

No! I won’t cry again! I’ve cried so much today. Crying wouldn’t make my situation better. I’m stronger than this. I can manage. It isn’t the first time that I’ll go hungry. It’s just food. I have myself, so I’ll survive this again.

“You hear that?” Alpha Noami teases the other Omegas, who are peeking through the wooden door. “No food, no water, no sunlight, nothing!” She clutches her waist, then lowers herself down and whispers, “I hope you die this time. Nobody will weep if you do.”

I try to bite my words, but my anger is far too strong to stop the words from blasting off my cracked lips. “Oh n-no, t-there’s someone who’ll w-weep for me. Y-you know that. But if you’re the one who’ll d-die, h-he won’t weep for you. Too b-bad.”

I have no idea where I’m getting this audacity, but it feels so good to let it be known. However, my audacity triggers another whip and this time, it hits my eyelid and ear. My world undulates like untamed ocean waves during strong typhoons. Heat travels through my face, burning half of it in pain.

“Too bad, I’m the Crimson Crystal Pack’s Main Alpha’s daughter and you are…”

She pauses to snigger. The sounds she creates make the world around me wobblier. But even though she stops sniggering, my whirling vision doesn’t ease at all.

She adds, “You’re just a useless, wolfless Omega. So, know your place!”

I thought Alpha Naomi would continue her show that only she enjoys, but it’s a relief when she stomps out of the room. Shortly after her footsteps are gone, the door shuts closed and a clunking metal echoes from the outside. Darkness with streaks of light from the holes in the roof is my only company now, my only company for three days.

Three days of punishment for a bread that I thought would momentarily save me and a pouch of gold coins that I thought could save me for a year. They say that the biggest risk is not taking risks. Is the risk I’m taking worth all of these wounds and bruises? If I didn’t go out of our boundery to look for food, wouldn’t I be punished? I don’t think so. If I stay hungry, I won’t be able to properly perform my duties, which will result in a punishment. What I did earlier was the best choice. I was just unlucky that I'm not strong enough to fight back. No matter what I do or which options I choose, whether I really stole the bread or just stayed here earlier, I’ll still end up being assaulted, disrespected and abused.

It’s not my fault that I’m an orphan, it’s my parents! It’s also not my fault that I’m wolfless, it’s the Moon Goddess’! I wish to have never been born at all if this is the kind of destiny I have to endure for the rest of my awful and wretched existence.

Another tear, which absolutely won’t be the last one, rolls down to the bridge of my nose as I curve my body like a withering leaf and embed it in the musty straws carpeted across the room’s floor. Knowing I’m powerless to do anything, I just let my mind drift away, dreaming of the happy days I’ve always wanted to experience, but are also always beyond my reach.