I turned to see a male guard hurrying toward me. He was tall and well-built. His uniform, although neat, was stiff—clearly someone who wasn't used to dealing with me in a personal capacity.
"Your father, Don Diego De la Vega, has issued a direct order," the guard said, standing at attention. "You are to go on foot to your destination. It is his will."
What in the unholy hell?!
I froze, my face scrunched up in surprise. "What? But... but the butchery is miles away! It'll take me hours to get there on foot And I might finish late, I—"
The guard, wringing his hands, avoided my gaze. "He... he said it was for your own good, Señorita."
"My own good?" I Repeated, bewildered. "What does that even mean?"
He shrugged, looking more confused than I felt. "I... I don't know, Señorita. But... but those were his orders."
I stared at him, stunned. Of course, Don Diego would do something like this. It wasn't about safety or my well-being—it was another form of control. Another reminder of how little power I had over my own life. Another discipline Omegas deserved.
I wanted to argue, to storm in and remind father that I was still his beautiful daughter. But what was the point? I would only make things worse.
It was already hot, and the walk to the butchery was long and arduous, even in the cooler parts of the year. I was going to be drenched in sweat by the time I got there.
"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, "Whatever."
The guard nodded, turning to leave as I began to make my way through the gate and onto the long path.
The Alpha Council owned all the land surrounding this estate, the boundaries were demarcated by thick forest. We werewolves were territorial creatures who loved to stick together, albeit, in packs.
Buying acres of land in thick forests or secluded areas was our way of staying out of the human hair. Or rather, ensuring humans were out of our businesses.
We couldn't risk being discovered for our true self, although, rumors had it that the human government were aware of our existence, and were in some kind of alliance with the Alpha council – leaving us to do our stuff while they did theirs in peace and harmony.
That didn't mean we didn't have a few strays – be it humans, supernaturals, or whatnot who would stumble in our territory. But those were propaganda bullshit; none of my business.
Outsiders weren't allowed near here. Which meant that everyone—every single person—knew exactly who I was. And what I was.
An Omega.
The whispers started almost immediately. The moment I crossed the threshold of the gate, I felt the eyes on me— all heavy and judgmental. Every step I took seemed to get lost in the snickers, taunts, and muttered insults.
"Look at her," a voice hissed from behind me. "The Omega daughter, too fragile for her own good."
"She's nothing but a pretty face, isn't she?" another voice sneered. "Too bad she's a failure."
I could feel their eyes crawling over me, their stares burning into the back of my neck like physical touch. I tried to ignore them, to walk faster, but the more I tried to pretend they weren't there, the more I could hear them.
"Her father should've thrown her out ages ago," someone called from behind a stall. "She'll never be anything."
Failure.
That word dug into me like a needle into the skin.
I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I kept walking. I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. But the words hurt like a fresh wound.
My menstrual cramps couldn't come close.
As I rounded the corner of the main compound, I saw a small group of workers standing by the edge of the fence. They turned as they noticed me, the usual mutterings or collective singing of
La Bamba fading into a tight silence as though I was a vibe killer.
Maybe I was.
Then one of the women—who had always been quick to smile at me before—crossed her arms and shook her head in disgust.
"Guess she's been stripped of everything, huh? No car, no wolf, nothing but her pretty face," she muttered, loud enough for me to hear. Her words were followed by a few chuckles from the others.
"Poor thing's been reduced," a man added with a sly grin. "Her father's got her on a leash now."
I felt my blood burn, but I didn't dare turn around. I kept my head down, walking faster, trying to block them out, but their voices seemed to follow me.
"She'll never be more than just a mistake," another voice said, a little too loudly. "Nothing but an embarrassment."
I hadn't even walked for long and my feet was already hurting. It wasn't from the exertion – it was from the insults that made my knees heavy.
I didn't want to cry. I refused to cry in front of them. So instead, I just kept walking. Funny how each step feelt like me walking farther away from the girl I used to be.
But then, I heard it—the sound of a car engine revving in the distance. For a moment, I thought it might be someone coming to rescue me, someone who would understand, who wouldn't treat me like I was nothing.
But when I turned my head, I saw nothing but the headlights of a vehicle pulling into the driveway of the main house.
It was Rosa. My eldest sister.
Our eyes met and I tried to force a smile, but she threw her face away. One would think I had been cloaked with a spell... like I was invisible.
While Camilla acknowledged my existence with her constant banters, Rosa acted like I never existed.
A self-loathing sigh erupted from me before I clutched my bag tighter.
They were right. What was I but a failure? A worthless Omega whose only use was to be a pretty, silent ornament on the arm of my father.
All I could do was keep walking.
I was so lost in my thoughts, replaying the cruel words and the even crueler looks, that I didn't see him coming. One moment I was walking, the next I was stumbling, my feet tangled, and the world tilted sideways.
As I stumbled forward, my arms flailing wildly, I crashed into a nearby stall, sending crates of juicy, ripe tomatoes flying in all directions. The vendor's cries of dismay filled the air as I struggled to extract myself from the wreckage.
"¡Diablo!" he shrieked, his voice a high-pitched screech. "You clumsy oaf! Look what you've done!"
Fuck. The tomatoes had already burst open, releasing their juicy contents all over me. I felt the cool, sticky liquid dripping down my face, soaking into my clothes, and staining my skin.
The crowd around me erupted into laughter and jeers.
"Look at the Omega!" someone shouted. "She's covered in tomato juice!"
"Maybe she's trying to make a new fashion trend!" another voice chimed in.
The vendor, whose face red with rage, stormed over to me,. "You clumsy, careless Omega!" he thundered. "You've ruined my entire stock! You'll pay for this, you'll pay dearly!"
He grasped my arm and began to drag me through the crowded market, tomato juice dripping from my hair and clothes, leaving a track of sticky, red liquid behind me.
The crowd followed, their laughter and jeers growing louder, more merciless. I felt like I was being paraded through the streets. Like I was a spectacle of shame and humiliation.
The vendor finally stopped in front of a small, rickety table, where he began to tally up the cost of the damaged tomatoes. "You owe me 500 pesos, Omega," he growled. "Pay up, or I'll make sure everyone in this market knows what a careless, clumsy fool you are!"
500 pesos? I had more than that on me, but they were Dad's money—intended for the butchery. If I paid him, the butcher's fees would lessen and Dad might find out.
"Oh, God." I groaned, massaging the back of my neck that was itching. "Dad will kill me after this."