“You worthless, ungrateful creature!”
My father’s voice exploded against the cold stone walls of the private study, shaking the high stained-glass windows and shattering what little strength I had left.
His eyes burned with an animalistic fury, treating me like a vile pest that had crawled into his immaculate home.
Before I could even pull my hands back to cover my face, his arm swung with ruthless momentum.
Crack.
The blow smashed across my cheek, sending my head crashing sideways into the iron frame of the heavy chair.
My vision went black for a agonizing second, bright white spots dancing behind my eyes as the metallic taste of fresh blood flooded my tongue.
“Why couldn’t you have been born like your sister?”
The question clawed at my chest—the same poisonous line that had been drilled into my skull since childhood.
I pressed my chin into my collarbone, staring numbly at the dark oak floorboards.
It didn’t matter how quietly I walked, how hard I tried, or how silent I kept my heart.
I was the flaw in their perfect picture.
The dark shadow standing next to pure gold.
My father paced back and forth across the rug like a caged beast, his breathing ragged.
“You nearly brought total ruin upon our house!” he roared, his fists trembling at his sides.
“The Alpha triplets looked at our lineage like we were dirt!
If Selene hadn’t stepped forward to fix your mess, do you have any idea what would be happening to us right now?”
His words suffocated me, thick as smoke.
My hands shook violently against the rough fabric of my trousers, but I kept my knees pressed firmly against the ice-cold floorboards.
They had ordered me to my knees the second the heavy iron doors of the estate shut behind us.
I wasn’t allowed to stand.
I wasn’t allowed to wipe the blood from my chin.
I was awaiting my sentence for the crime of being chosen.
“She’s been a cursed stain on this family since the day she took her first breath, Dad!”
Derick’s sharp voice cut through the air, heavy with malice.
I tilted my chin just enough to catch the glint of absolute disgust in my brother’s eyes.
There was no bond of blood in his gaze, no memory of childhood play—only a cruel, burning desire to see me crushed.
I lowered my eyes back to the floor.
My spirit felt leaden, exhausted from holding back the tidal wave of tears I knew would only invite more violence.
Every muscle in my legs throbbed from the hard wood, but I remained motionless, perfectly obedient, just as I had been trained.
Then came Selene’s voice.
“Dad…
please, stop.
Don’t hurt her anymore.
It isn’t Lyra’s fault she was born this way.”
Her words were liquid honey—soft, sweet, and drenched in a sickening facade of grace.
It floated across the stifling room, instantly drawing every ounce of hostility away from her and turning it into devotion.
I looked up through my tangled hair and caught her expression: a perfectly crafted portrait of innocent sorrow, so convincing it could fool a saint.
“Let’s just move past it, Dad,” she continued, her voice trembling with faint, theatrical tears.
“I forgive her for taking my heirloom.
The family honor was saved in the end.
That’s all that matters.”
Those words sealed my fate.
Before I could draw another breath, a blur of silk moved into my peripheral vision.
A sharp, stinging strike cracked across my opposite jaw, snapping my head back into the hard floor.
Pain flared hot and blinding.
My mother.
Luisa stood over me, her chest heaving, her aristocratic features contorted in pure outrage.
“How dare you steal from your own sister’s room?” she spat, her voice tight with fury.
“How dare you drag our name through the mud on the day of the mate choosing?”
The room tilted as I forced my breathing to stay even.
My cheek throbbed violently.
My jaw clicked with a dull ache.
But my mouth remained shut.
Protesting was suicide.
I didn’t utter a word.
I didn’t cry out.
I didn’t beg for them to listen to my side.
I simply stayed on my knees, hands tightly clasped, letting the silence swallow my defense.
Because I knew how the game ended.
They had built a world where Selene was incapable of sin, and I was the cause of every disaster.
If I shouted the truth, if I screamed that she had framed me, they would only hit me harder for daring to blaspheme against their precious angel.
I was the designated scapegoat.
So I surrendered to the dark.
I let their hatred fall over me, heavy as stones.
“Selene, my sweet girl, you are far too gentle with a snake.”
Derickglided past my kneeling form, his voice smooth and reassuring as he wrapped a heavy arm around Selene’s shoulders.
He pulled her against his side, shielding her as if she were a delicate glass flower that might shatter from the harsh air of the room.
“A monster like this doesn’t need forgiveness,” Dericksneered, casting a cold, dismissive glance down at me.
“She needs to be broken until she remembers her place.”
The declaration hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
“Derick, no…” Selene murmured softly, placing a delicate hand against his chest in a weak, tragic attempt to play the mediator.
She didn’t get to finish her performance.
My father drew himself up to his full, imposing height, his face turning to solid stone.
When he spoke, it wasn’t a father addressing a child—it was a judge handing down an execution.
“By the authority of the Beta lineage,” he declared coldly, “Lyra will receive thirty lashes at the iron post.”
The sentence hit me like an anchor dropping into my chest.
Before my mind could even process the horror of thirty steel-tipped strokes, my father turned his back on me and strode out of the room.
He didn’t look back.
My life, my flesh, meant no more to him than a scrap of trash tossed onto a fire.
For a second, the room was dead silent.
Then the iron snapped into place.
Two heavy-set house guards stepped out from the shadows, their thick fingers digging mercilessly into my shoulders as they yanked me up from the floor.
My weak legs gave out, my knees scraping against the wood before they dragged me upright by main force.
I didn’t fight them.
I didn’t have the strength.
They hauled me toward the side door, my toes barely dragging along the stone runner as they marched me out into the cold stone hallway.
“Stop for a moment!”
Selene’s voice echoed down the vaulted corridor.
The guards didn’t release their grip, but they paused, turning slightly as my twin sister hurried down the hall after us.
Her silk skirt rustled against the stone, her eyes wide with what looked like desperate concern for the guards to see.
She stepped right into my space, leaning over my trembling frame with a look of profound sorrow on her face.
“Lyra, oh Goddess, I am so sorry…” she whispered loudly enough for the guards to hear.
For one terrifying, foolish second, a tiny piece of my heart tried to believe her.
Then she leaned right against my ear, her breath smelling of sweet wine and honeysuckle, her whisper dropping into a pitch so low and venomous it chilled the marrow in my bones.
“The Triplets were always destined for my bed, little sister,” she purred softly, a dark, wicked amusement lacing every word.
“You were foolish to ever dream otherwise.
Consider every stroke of the whip a little reminder of where you belong.”
The poison sank deep, tearing through what remained of my soul.
Selene pulled back in an instant.
The malice vanished from her face as if it had never existed, replaced by an expression of serene, quiet pity.
She reached out, delicately patting a speck of dust off my torn cardigan, her touch light, dismissive, and utterly victorious.
She turned around without another word, her heels clicking rhythmically against the slate as she walked back into the warmth of the hall—back to safety, honor, and the Alphas who should have been mine.
I was left in the freezing dark of the passage, held fast by heavy iron grips, being dragged down the stone stairs toward the courtyard post.
My lungs ached.
My heart was a hollow ruin.
What did I ever do to deserve this existence?