The Jilted Luna

Wolfless Omega

Victoria’s POV

With a flick of his hand, he signaled one of the others.

A moment later, a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped over my bloodied form, shocking me back to consciousness. I gasped, my body trembling violently from the chill and pain. My head barely lifted before

Crack!

Another lash tore across my back.

My body arched from the agony, the chains rattling above me with a harsh, metallic echo that rang through the dark dungeon. The only light came from a flickering torch on the wall, casting long, wavering shadows across the stone floor. My silhouette frail and shaking looked impossibly small in the midst of the towering figures surrounding me.

And Marcus was only getting started.

Each time I passed out from the relentless torment, they revived me with another splash of freezing water. Again and again, the whip tore into me. And when my body teetered on the edge of death, barely clinging to life, Marcus would finally call in a healer not to save me, but just enough to keep me alive.

So the punishment could continue.

Blood trickled steadily down my back, soaking through the already torn remnants of my dress.

The deep, ragged wounds marred my once-smooth skin, painting my back in grotesque shades of crimson—like the petals of a red spider lily in full bloom. The sight was both harrowing and strangely haunting.

I felt frail, my broken beauty striking in its quiet tragedy. My long brown hair clung to the side of my pale face, and my colorless complexion made me look more like a corpse than someone clinging to life. My eyelids fluttered faintly as the healer worked on me, though even their best efforts barely made a difference. Even the pack doctor would be powerless to do anything to help me at this point.

Only a true healer could attempt to mend the damage and even then, the wounds left by a silver whip resisted all attempts at restoration. Perhaps only a saint or a master healer could reverse such damage.

Cold water had dulled the color of my skin, making the torn flesh even more ghastly. The welts were swelling now, the trauma growing worse with every passing moment. I burned with fever, my body trembling as I began to convulse.

Yet, as I suffered, Beta Marcus stood nearby, watching with a twisted sense of triumph.

My pain was his fuel.

The sight of my broken body, the reminder of his dominance, made him feel powerful—invincible. Hatred and perverse satisfaction surged through him like a d**g, sending his adrenaline soaring to euphoric heights.

The thought of avenging himself for all the humiliation and pain he had endured filled Beta Marcus with twisted satisfaction. Each strike had been a release, an indulgent wave of euphoria that drowned out reason.

He was so caught up in his vengeance that he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop until the healer’s frantic voice cut through his frenzy.

"She’ll die if you don’t stop!"

That finally pulled him back.

I couldn’t die. Not yet. His Alpha, Carlisle, had tasked him with overseeing my recovery, ensuring my wounds were properly treated.

But with Alpha Carlisle preoccupied, Marcus had taken matters into his own hands. He saw it not as cruelty, but as justice.

In his mind, I deserved every lash. After all, I had pushed Raquel, their future Luna. Down the stairs, endangering the royal pup she carried. If the unborn child hadn’t survived, I would still be facing capital punishment for harming the royal bloodline.

So in Marcus’s twisted logic, he wasn’t acting out of malice, but delivering rightful punishment.

And even if Alpha Carlisle reprimanded him and got angry later, Marcus believed the royal family would stand behind him. Maybe he’d even be praised for defending the honor of the Royal Princess and taking justice into his own hands.

As Beta Marcus reflected on his actions, a sense of smug satisfaction washed over him. He felt clever, justified he had exacted his revenge while still adhering to the rules. In his mind, it was the perfect resolution.

He knew why Alpha Carlisle had sent him here to care for me, to tend to my injuries. That’s why the healer had been dispatched to my side and not Raquel’s.

It was a subtle, yet telling choice. Marcus understood this decision deeply, and he could already see the truth that Carlisle himself had yet to acknowledge: the Alpha was protecting me.

But it wasn’t just that. Marcus knew Carlisle had developed feelings for me though he hadn’t realized it yet. Carlisle’s instincts had driven him to send Marcus along with the healer to my side, even if it meant risking the life of the royal pup in Raquel’s womb.

It was clear now.

The Alpha had unconsciously placed my well-being above that of the royal child, prioritizing me first, and this, to Marcus, was an undeniable sign that Carlisle had already fallen for me.

Beta Marcus knew that he had to take care of me first to free his alpha from caring about me.

After all, wouldn’t his three long years of scheming and whispering in Carlisle’s ear to hate me be in vain?

Besides, even if I accidentally died and his alpha got angry, Beta Marcus still felt like he could salvage the situation. After all, I would already be dead then, and although his alpha would feel guilty and heartbroken, he would have to stand up again and take Raquel as his Luna.

Everything could then be arranged the way he had envisioned it for a long time. He might suffer a little, but it was for the greater good, so he thought that it was acceptable.

"Alright, bandage her up and cover those ugly wounds on her back. We’ll continue the t*****e later," Beta Marcus barked, his tone sharp and dismissive. "I need to oversee the preparations for the visitor while Luna Raquel is being treated. You." he pointed at the guards with authority, "make sure she doesn’t escape. Keep a close eye on her."

With that, he turned on his heel, a twisted sense of satisfaction curling in his chest. The others following him wore the same expression grim delight at the sight of me barely clinging to life.

The healer remained behind, doing everything she could to keep me alive. A soft greenish light glowed from her hand as she pressed it gently over my chest, channeling her energy to keep my heart beating preventing cardiac arrest from claiming me.

But the longer she worked, the more drained she felt. Her strength was fading; she’d been healing me for far too long without rest.

Still, she refused to stop. Silent sobs escaped her lips, and tears spilled down her cheeks like pearls scattered from a broken strand.

Although many in the Red Moon Pack hated me for allegedly causing the former Alpha’s death, there were still a few like the healer who viewed things differently. She believed that even without me, the outcome might not have changed.

The former Alpha had been fighting on the front lines against the vampires an unpredictable and deadly battlefield. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have perished anyway? The healer was simply being rational.

But reason rarely comforts the grieving. It seemed that most of the pack just needed someone to blame for their misfortune and pain and I, weak and defenseless, became the perfect scapegoat.

A wolfless omega, I couldn’t fight back, no matter how much they scolded or humiliated me. They made me their punching bag, venting their anger and grief onto someone who wouldn’t lift a finger in return just to feel some twisted sense of relief.