The Alpha's Cursed Queen

3

As I knock on the door, and a voice calls out for me to enter, I take a deep breath.

The first thing I see after stepping into the office is a gray-haired man sitting behind a desk, holding a sheaf of papers. He glances up at me before returning his gaze to the pages in his hands. He doesn’t tell me to sit, simply ignoring my presence entirely. I take the time to study Thomas Elvin’s face in an attempt to gauge how angry he is.

His expression is passive, and as the minutes tick by, the silence that fills the room has my insides churning. I hate this intimidation tactic.

Finally, after a full thirty minutes has passed, the beta of the Moonlight Pack sets down his work and leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers together and studying me.

“What I find hard to understand, Alice,” he begins, his voice soft and non-threatening, “is why you are so insistent on making yourself visible within the pack? It’s almost as if you think being seen is a good thing.”

I know better than to open my mouth in front of Thomas. Standing still, I look at him silently, my hands folded in front of me.

“You should consider yourself lucky that you’re allowed to be part of this pack. You should be grateful that you are treated with some level of respect.” Thomas gets to his feet, and I flinch.

He walks around the room before coming to stand before me. Propping his hips against the desk, he supports himself with his palms on the edge of it and studies me. “Last night, I had to go to the human police station to pick up my daughter.”

This is when I make the mistake of speaking, unable to help myself. “I didn’t want to press charges—”

I see Thomas’s hand lift in the air, and then I hear the loud smack just before I stagger backward, my left cheek burning.

“Did I say you could talk?” Thomas asks pleasantly. “You humiliated my daughter. You, a nobody, had the audacity to harm my child. Why are you so determined to cause a ruckus? Don’t you know what I can do to you?”

My ears are still ringing from the slap when he grabs a fistful of my long, red hair, forcing me to look up at him. All the while, his expression does not change. If someone were listening in from the outside, it would seem as if he’s not attacking me but rather reprimanding me gently with his words. “I told you, when you were six years old and able to understand basic conversation, that I expect you to live like a dead rat. Do you remember that? Or we do need to have that conversation again?”

When I take too long to answer, his grip on my hair tightens, and I let out a gasp.

“I asked you a question.”

Before I can reply, he drags me over to the wall and slams my head against it.

Once. Twice.

I can’t stop him. My hands lift defensively as I try to swallow any sound of pain. Thomas tends to get even more aggressive if I cry out. The first time he beat me up was when I was ten; I had saved enough money from cleaning yards to buy myself a pink backpack for school, the same bag Willow had had her eye on. The backpack was taken from me and destroyed.

It’s clear where Willow gets her sadistic streak from. At least Thomas only beats me if I’ve upset his daughter, whom I try my best to stay away from.

“I didn’t call the police, Thomas!” I try to tell him, but the next blow has my vision blurring with blood, and my tongue now feels thick in my mouth.

“You have some audacity.” He looks annoyed. “I don’t care who called the police. You should’ve stopped them. I don’t care if you didn’t press charges. My daughter was at the police station. My daughter. She had no reason to be there.”

I should keep my mouth shut. I should agree with him and apologize. But even though this pack has been quite successful in breaking me, there is still some spirit left alive within me.

“She wasn’t the one arrested!” I manage to say before I get punched in the throat and fall to the ground. But I’m not done yet. “Only Flint was arrested!” I gasp. “Willow just went with him.”

My head is spinning as I try to get to my feet.

Beta Thomas crouches beside me, something thin and sharp in his hand. “It doesn’t matter, Alice. You are the reason she stepped inside that filthy place. You still don’t understand, do you? Willow is my precious daughter. You should’ve stopped her. You should’ve begged her if that’s what it took. Instead, you did nothing. When it comes to you and Willow, you’re not even worthy enough to lick the bottom of her shoe. My child was traumatized because of you. She had to deal with all sorts of human police matters. All because you couldn’t bear to have some soup thrown on you? If you can’t do your job, then quit and starve.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, he lifts his arm and thrusts something into the palm of my right hand. A high-pitched scream is torn from my lips.

He has stabbed me with something. My vision bloody, I don’t understand what it is at first. I’m barely able to think past the pain, and then I see the letter opener sticking out of my hand.

Nausea washes over me.

Thomas shoves me away from him, gets up, and dusts off his suit. I clutch my wrist, trembling and staring down at my hand, only looking up when he makes a clucking sound. “Give me that letter opener.”

Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if I had just been killed when my parents left me at the pack orphanage. Or did they want me to survive and suffer for having been born?

“I don’t have all day!” the beta snaps, and I cringe.

Wrapping my left hand around the letter opener, I press my lips together and yank it out. My teeth sink into my tongue as I try to distract myself from this vicious pain. I manage to get to my feet, and I walk over to the desk. Just as I’m about to place the sharp object on it, Thomas shakes his head.

“Throw it in the trash there. It’s got your dirty blood on it.”

My body grows cold.

There are times when I’m convinced I’ve grown numb to the insults, the taunts, and the constant degradation. But in moments like this, I feel like a child, all alone and vulnerable, with the world hurling sticks and stones at me.