THE RUTHLESS ALPHA SUPERIOR’S VIRGIN SLAVE

I curse everyone

Evelina Sinclair

The courtyard was cold.

They tied me to the post in the center, wrists bound high above my head, back bare to the open sky. I heard the whip before I felt it — a thin, sharp whistle cutting through the air, a single heartbeat of silence — then—

Crack.

Fire tore across my skin. I screamed. My body jerked hard against the ropes. White light flooded my vision.

Crack.

Again.

Crack.

Again.

I lost count somewhere around fifteen. Pain became the only language I knew. It lived in my shoulders, my ribs, the curve of my lower back. Blood ran warm and steady down my sides. I tasted iron where I had bitten through my own lip.

Somewhere behind me, Cora was screaming too. Her ten lashes sounded far away, like they belonged to another girl in another life.

By thirty I was no longer Evelina. I was only pain and the raw, animal will to keep breathing.

By forty I was silent.

They cut the ropes. I collapsed. The stones rose up and met me, but I felt almost nothing. Hands grabbed at me. Cora’s sobs filled my ears as she half-dragged, half-carried me through corridors I could not see.

“Hold on,” she kept whispering, her voice thick with blood and tears. “Please, my lady… just hold on.”

She got me to the room and laid me carefully on my stomach. The sheets turned red within moments. I heard her moving, crying, crushing herbs, tearing cloth into strips. She cleaned the wounds as gently as she could even though her own back was still bleeding through her dress. She pressed the paste onto the deepest cuts and forced a bitter tonic between my lips.

It was not enough.

The fever climbed higher. The pain stayed sharp and deep, like the whip was still falling. I could feel myself slipping further away with every shallow breath.

Cora made the decision first.

“We have to go to the Matron,” she said, voice shaking. “She has the real medicine. The strong ones from the physician’s stores. If we stay here… you will die.”

I could barely nod.

She helped me stand. Every step sent fresh fire through the open wounds. We moved slowly, my weight heavy on her smaller frame. By the time we reached the Matron’s wing, the sun was high and merciless.

The Matron looked up from her desk as we entered. Her eyes dragged over my bloodied state with open distaste.

“Well,” she said. “The Miracle Omega. Still breathing. How curious.”

She tilted her head.

“What happened to you? Why is the precious Miracle Omega covered in bruises and blood?”

Cora stepped forward quickly, still supporting most of my weight.

“It was Lady Morgana, Matron. She wrongly accused my lady of theft. She ordered the forty lashes herself. My lady did nothing wrong. She only wore the cloak the Supreme Alpha gave her.”

The Matron stared at us for a long moment.

Then she chuckled.

It was a low, amused sound, completely without pity.

“Lady Morgana,” she repeated, almost fondly. “Of course it was.”

She leaned back in her chair and looked at me the way one looks at something already discarded.

“Then you deserve whatever she decided to give you. I will not waste good medicine on a girl who cannot even stay in the Alpha’s favor without causing trouble. You brought this on yourself.”

Cora’s voice broke.

“Please— she is burning with fever. The wounds are deep. If she does not receive proper treatment—”

“Kneel.”

The single word cut through Cora’s begging.

“Both of you. Outside. Under the sun. Until I decide you have remembered what you are.”

I stared at her. For a moment I thought I had misheard.

Cora’s hand tightened on my arm.

“My lady… please. Just do as she says.”

My legs gave out. I sank down onto the hot stones of the outer courtyard. The sun slammed onto the open wounds on my back like liquid fire. A broken sound tore from my throat before I could stop it.

Cora dropped to her knees beside me and kept begging in a low, desperate voice. The Matron only watched from the doorway, arms folded, expression bored and faintly pleased.

Inside my head the curses began, quiet and vicious.

I cursed Lady Morgana.

I cursed the Matron.

I cursed every smiling face that had watched me get dragged to that post.

I cursed the Supreme Alpha who had placed his cloak on my shoulders and then vanished while they tore my back open for wearing it.

I cursed the Moon Goddess most of all — for making me an Omega. Weak enough to be sold, whipped, and discarded… yet somehow strong enough to take a mad Alpha’s c**k during his blood-moon frenzy and live.

What kind of cruel joke was that?

Tears slipped down my face and burned when they reached the cuts.

I turned my head slightly toward Cora. My voice came out cracked and raw.

“If I survive this… I’m leaving.”

She looked at me, eyes wide and wet.

“I mean it,” I whispered. “I will leave the capital. I will leave this entire country if I have to. The United States of Lycanin is not for me. It never was.”

The Matron finally grew tired of watching us.

“Go,” she said. “Get out of my sight. And do not come crawling back.”

Cora helped me stand again. There was no carriage. No escort. No kindness. We had to walk the long way back to the maid’s residence on foot.

Every step was a separate punishment.

The sun stayed high and cruel. Sweat mixed with blood and ran into the open wounds. My vision blurred. My legs trembled. Twice I fell to my knees on the stone path. Cora cried while she pulled me back up, apologizing over and over even though none of this was her fault.

I stopped answering her after the second fall. I only focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on the cold promise I had made to myself.

I would not die here.

And I would not stay.

We were still only halfway back when my legs finally gave out completely. The world tilted. The stones rushed up to meet me.

The last thing I felt was the heat of the sun on my ruined back and Cora’s voice screaming my name as everything went dark.