BEARING THE RUTHLESS ALPHA'S HEIR

The stepsister

MIA'S POV

Light slammed into my eyes, harsh as the guards dragged me out of the cell.

My wrists stung where the leather had been knotted; my muscles trembled from hunger and grief and the aftershock of standing when I no longer trusted my legs but the ruthless guards didn't care. They shoved me down a corridor mercilessly.

The air in the corridor hit me immediately. It smelled of smoke and the faint sweetness of someone else's warmth and of course it was my mate, Blair.

His scent was so intoxicating, the mate bond was so strong but I didn't like him at all. It was cruel, the way the bond pulled at me while every part of my mind screamed to resist. He did the same, he watched me coldly, expression carved from stone, his eyes cutting through me as if I were something fragile he could break with a flick of his hand.

After being dragged into the corridor, he didn't say anything for a moment and I also kept my gaze fixed on him. If hatred could have been a weapon I would have cut him with it. I didn't hide it all as he scanned me. When he finally smirked, I swallowed, and pain tore a white line across my sight.

"Come with her to the whorehouse," he ordered flatly.

The words struck like a lash. My head jerked up, confusion tangling with fury. For a heartbeat I thought I'd misheard him, but the guards shifted uneasily, confirming he meant every syllable.

"No…" The whisper scraped out of me before I could stop it. Blair's gaze snapped to mine.

"Do you think you have a choice?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"But you said you taking me to my sister," I forced myself to speak even though my throat was hurting.

"To watch her die," He corrected coldly.

My mouth became a desert immediately; my tongue stuck to the roof of it when I tried to swallow but failed to say anymore word.

The corridor tilted; the world narrowed to the sound of my own heart thrumming like a trapped thing. I wanted to tear the words from him, to scream that he had no right, no claim, no mercy. Instead the only sound that came was a dry, animal sob that I swallowed back like bile.

It was all useless now, I had thought, when I stopped eating those first nights, that dying would be a clean thing. Quiet. A simple closing of the curtain. But death at Blair's hands had the same theatrical cruelty as everything else he did. He liked the performance. He liked to watch.

The guards also didn't give me time to think. They hauled me forward, the leather at my wrists tugging, and shoved me down a flight of narrow stone steps. Each step sank into me like another pin, another small thing removed until there was nothing left but bone. The air grew thicker, warmer, and as we reached the bottom a smell hit me that made bile rise: perfumed sweat, stale ale, and the sour sweetness of women used to being owned.

Did he order his men to use my stepsister as a w***e?!

The thought was obscene, unbearable, something my mind tried to reject, but Blair was capable of anything. He had proven it a hundred times already.

My knees buckled on the step, and one of the guards yanked me upright with a grunt of annoyance. "Move," he snapped, but the word barely reached me. My blood pounded too violently, each beat a drum of horror.

Blair's shadow fell across me as he descended in front of me. He walked quickly but confidently and opened one of the doors.

When the guards shoved me into it, I fell down on my knees but I raised my head immediately. I moved my eyes until when they fell on her.

My stepsister.

Her once beautiful body was now frail, her gown loose as if it had been thrown on her without care. Her hair was too dirty full of dry blood, her skin pale, her eyes distant as though the weight of her torture had already claimed half of her spirit. She looked so out of place here that for a heartbeat I thought it must be some hallucination conjured from exhaustion.

"Mia," she mouthed.

I tried to mouth back, but the guards had tied my hands so tight that my muscles spasmed and at end I failed to say any word. The leather now bit into my skin so hard and lifted it in angry lines. Blair slid closer to me with a smirk on his face.

"You chose to starve," he said to me, loud enough for all of us to hear. "You of all people should have known better than to think your pain could be a shield."

My mouth quivered, I was going to lead to the death of my sister. For a second I remembered every moment I had with Laura. Yes her mom used to torture me when we were still young and she also ran away from her wedding without informing me but still that wasn’t enough to get her killed.

"You're a monster," I spat finally to Blair. "And I swear, Blair, if you do anything to my sister, I will end you with my own hands." I hissed out fearlessly.

A ripple of satisfaction passed over Blair's face. He enjoyed parsing words like knives.

"Brave," he said, mock-solemn. "Stubborn to the last. Take her sister right now to the killing site"

They moved her away immediately, like a procession. Each step she took echoed in my chest until the sound became a drumbeat that matched the rhythm of my heart. The world narrowed to the space between her and me.

I could feel the bond, that cursed thread tighten in my skull like a fist. When Blair looked at me, it was not merely with hunger; it was with ownership. Something in me recoiled and something in me answered back with a dull, traitorous warmth. It made me sick.

"Wait," I shouted before they could drag her out of the room.