The Scarred Wolf And Her Obsessive Alpha

Chapter Four

4.

She never knew for sure why they hated her so much. Sometimes she thought it was all because of her face, that deformed face that provoked immediate rejection in Africa's family. They had always despised her for it, using her appearance as an excuse to humiliate her, to constantly remind her of her inferiority.

Something similar was happening among the servants. Many of them repeated the cruelty of their masters, finding in Sigrid an easy target. They mocked her, denigrated her for her disfigured face, for the visible marks that distinguished her from the others.

However, it wasn't all hostility. There were a few, very few, who treated her with some humanity. She had grown up with them, sharing grueling work and brief moments of rest. Those women were the closest thing she had ever had to friends, small refuges in a life marked by abuse.

Even so, most of the time she was alone, facing contempt. Blows, insults, and looks of disgust had become so frequent that, over the years, she ended up accepting them as inevitable. She had grown accustomed to living in this constant state of submission, convinced that no better fate awaited her anywhere.

In fact, in her mind, that hell was preferable to far worse alternatives. She knew what happened to the slaves who were no longer useful: they could be sold to other wolves, traded like merchandise, or, in the worst cases, sent to the black market, where their bodies were stripped of their human value to become mere sources of organs or objects of even more atrocious practices. Faced with that scenario, any crumb seemed like a privilege.

That's why, even though Africa treated her with contempt, even though she humiliated and beat her without remorse, serving her personally seemed like a lesser evil. Sigrid was content just to survive.

“Mother, I don’t understand why I have to take this monstrosity with me,” Africa said disdainfully. “The Alpha might get scared and fall over backward if he sees her. Just look at that hideous face of hers. Even I have nightmares about her. Why do I have to see her every day?”

"We've already talked about this, Africa," Morgana replied firmly. "Whatever problem you have, whatever trouble, whatever need you have, Sigrid will take care of it. That's why she'll come with you. Are you listening to me?"

Africa clicked her tongue in obvious disgust.

"Well, let her get on with her work then," she said dismissively. "And let her comb my hair."

Sigrid didn't answer. She simply picked up the comb carefully and continued arranging Africa's hair, trying not to make the slightest mistake. She knew that any accidental tug, any improper touch, could turn into another humiliation or another blow.

Finally, the wedding day arrived.

Sigrid did not attend the ceremony. She was not allowed. While Africa walked toward her destiny amidst songs, rituals, and admiring glances, Sigrid had already been sent to the Alpha's mansion to join the servants.

Africa became the wife of Alpha Asherad, the great Alpha who had already assumed his position and whose marriage only definitively consolidated his rule. Asherad was feared, respected, and admired; his union with Africa strengthened alliances and calmed those who still watched his rise with caution.

That same night, Sigrid took charge of Africa. She helped him undress, bathe, and prepare for the night he had been so eagerly anticipating.

Suddenly, Africa looked at herself in the mirror with an expectant smile.

"Alpha Asherad is a very attractive wolf," he remarked. "Big, strong, imposing."

Sigrid continued adjusting the clasps of the nightgown with extreme delicacy, keeping her head tilted.

—I wonder what my first night with him will be like—Africa added, in an almost dreamy tone.

Sigrid didn't answer. Not because she couldn't hear, but because she had learned that any word could be used against her. Silence was her only defense.

Africa spent her first night with Asherad under the roof that symbolized her new status, in the chamber reserved for the intimacy of the Moon and the Alpha. That room existed to fulfill the marriage ritual, to seal the alliance before the eyes of the Clan and the ancient spirits.

However, it was not the place where they would spend their days. Asherad kept his own alcove, reserved solely for him; Africa, for her part, had a personal chamber where she would spend most of her time.

The next morning, as dawn began to filter through the windows, África was already awake. She paced restlessly around her room, while Sigrid, as usual, went about her chores: tidying the clothes, organizing the room, and preparing the garments her mistress would wear.

"It was horrible," Africa said suddenly. "Absolutely horrible."

Sigrid didn't look up. She continued carefully folding a tunic, careful not to interrupt her, aware that Africa wasn't speaking to receive an answer, but to vent her displeasure.

"He was so cold to me," she continued uncomfortably. "He just spread my legs, entered me, and finished. Just like that, as if he were only fulfilling an obligation."

For África, that night had been a bitter disappointment, an unexpected c***k in the idealized image of the Alpha. For Sigrid, on the other hand, it was just another morning in which she had to listen, serve, and remain silent, a mute witness to someone else's intimacy that only confirmed what she had always known: even in marriage, power never mixes with affection.

Time passed, and Sigrid became a barely noticeable presence within the Alpha's grand mansion. She never appeared before Asherad. Both Africa and Morgana, and even other members of the mansion staff, had repeatedly explained to her that the Alpha must never see her. Her presence could provoke extreme disgust, immediate rejection, and even expulsion from the house if Asherad were to learn that someone who looked like her was in his quarters.

Sigrid obeyed rigorously. Every time she was about to cross paths with Asherad, she instinctively hid, disappeared from sight, clung to the shadows, or covered herself with veils and garments that would allow her to go unnoticed.

However, one afternoon, that carefully maintained routine was interrupted. Africa approached Sigrid while she was, as usual, cleaning the room with meticulous and measured movements.

"Sigrid," Africa said, "it's time for you to do what you have to do. It's time to serve, to fulfill your purpose. That's why you exist. That's why you're here."

Sigrid stopped, clasped her hands in front of her body, and lowered her head in a deep, submissive bow.

—How can I be of help, Luna?

Africa observed her closely, assessing her posture and her submission, and then pronounced the order that would completely change Sigrid's life.

"Tonight you will go into the Alpha's room," he declared. "The room where I sleep with him, and you will sleep with him. You will do this every night, until you are pregnant."