Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha Prince

Chapter9

Elara's POV

The tears come before I can stop them. Hot and frustrated and tired, I bury my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping quiet. Even here, in my own home, I’m afraid to sob too loudly.

Why? Why does the mere idea of me existing bother them so much?

It has always been this way. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, something else happens. Even as a child, I remember being forced to venture into the forest to find food. There were some who took pity on me and gave me scraps, but nobody dared to show me kindness openly. I was a stain on their pack’s honor, the hideous creature that shouldn’t have survived.

Is that it? Do they want me to die of starvation or be killed out there in the woods? Who is going to do all their dirty work then, the small, filthy tasks that are always assigned to me?

Luna jumps into my lap, purring softly, and I stroke her fur with trembling fingers.

The little flower Mary gave me fell from my shirt pocket, its purple petals already beginning to wilt.

I pick it up and stare at it, my voice hollow.

“At least there is some innocence in this place.”

Sighing, I push the flour aside. It’s not like this is the first time something like this has happened. I’ll find a way to use it. Right now, I have to focus on my injury instead. After rolling up my pant leg, I carefully peel away the bandages. The wound looks better; the edges are closing, and the angry redness has faded to a dull pink. But it’s healing slowly—too slowly for someone who needs to be back in those dangerous woods soon.

The healing paste I made is sitting in a small ceramic jar on the counter. I apply another layer, wincing as the herbs sting the still-tender flesh. As I rewrap the wound, I try to push away thoughts of what will happen if it doesn’t heal properly. If I can’t gather herbs next week, I won’t have any income at all.

The cottage feels too quiet, too empty. I leaned back in my chair, Luna curled in my lap, and let my mind wander to my mother. Her face is fuzzy in my memory now, more a feeling than an image, but I can still hear her voice sometimes.

“Look for the light in people, little star,” she used to say, her hands warm as she brushed my hair. “There is always light, even when it’s hard to see. Be positive, always positive. The world has enough darkness.”

“There is always light,” I repeat to the empty room, my voice numb. “Be positive.”

But where was the light in that mother’s fury when I helped her injured child? Where was the light in Holden’s deliberate cruelty?

“I try, Mama,” I whispered tiredly. “I try so hard to see the good in people, to stay positive like you said. But it’s getting so hard when all I see are the monsters behind everybody’s faces.”

The silence that follows feels heavy, weighed down by all the years of small cruelties and large indifferences. I’ve spent so long trying to be what my mother wanted—positive, hopeful, kind—but I’m drowning in other people’s malice.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say aloud, the words shocking me with their finality. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it’s not. I can’t keep letting them tear off pieces of me until there’s nothing left.”

Luna’s amber eyes seemed to understand, and I rubbed her ear.

“Andrew asked me to marry him,” I tell her, my voice steadier now. “He wants me to leave all this behind. Maybe… maybe it’s time I stop waiting for things to get better here and make them better somewhere else.”

The thought terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure. Leaving the pack means leaving the only life I’ve ever known, even if that life has been mostly pain. But staying means more years of this—more shadow bears and infested flour and people who would rather I didn’t exist.

I stand up, surprising Luna, who jumps down with an indignant meow.

My leg protests the sudden movement, but I ignore it.

“I need to talk to Blackwood,” I say, the decision crystallizing as I speak. “It’s not like he wants me here anyway. None of them do.”

The thought of facing Alpha Blackwood makes my stomach churn, but I push the fear aside. He may be the pack leader, but this is within my rights. Even outcasts like me have the right to request formal separation from the pack.

I go over to my small closet and pull out my one decent dress—a simple, green thing that my mother made for herself years ago. If I’m going to ask the Alpha for my freedom, I should at least look presentable doing it.

“This is it, Luna,” I say, setting Mary’s wilted flower carefully on the windowsill. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, I feel something other than resigned acceptance.

I feel hope.