Page 8 of The Alpha Wolf's Bullied Bride

Before I can say anything to further my defense, Cynthia lifts the pot off the stove and turns to me. With a familiar malicious smirk on her face, she tips the pot over and flicks it toward me, sending hot soup flying through the air until it spills all over the front of my apron.

“Ow!” I yelp, hopping back and grabbing the apron just as the hot liquid seeps through the layers of clothing and scorches the flesh of my chest. Horrified, I turn my widened eyes on Cynthia as I feel the burn pierce my skin.

“Oops!” she shrugs nonchalantly, replacing the pot on the stove with a calmness that betrays any hope of her changing. She turns to me with a glare, lifting a pointed finger at my face. “That’s what you get for even daring to think about him.”

“I wasn’t thinking about him, Cynthia!” I glance down at the mess on my chest just as other Blood Moon volunteersappear at every corner. My cry of terror had drawn their attention, and now we’ve gathered an audience.

Again.

Cynthia sneers, her eyes burning with hatred as she glares at me. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, Omega!” she roars, stabbing her finger into my shoulder. “You think that with your fancy new haircut, you can hide the fact that you’re still a useless, fat piece of shit!”

“Cynthia—” I begin in a warning tone, but the redhead doesn’t back down. Instead, she takes a menacing step forward, towering over me and throwing daggers at me with her glazed eyes.

“Listen to me very clearly, Omega,” she threatens. “Flynn’s coming back, and you’re gonna stay away from him. He already rejected you once. We don’t want him to throw you out of the pack, now, do we?”

I gather every ounce of courage I can find, every strand I’d woven for myself over the past two years, by becoming numb to the feelings I’d felt so intensely before. Her words mean nothing to me—I made sure of that when I built the fortress of brick walls to protect myself from their cruel words. Nothing can break me any longer, and I lift my head defiantly, squaring my shoulders as I glare equally as fiercely into her eyes.

“You listen to me clearly, Cynthia,” I bite back coarsely. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about Flynn.” I take a step forward, pointing a finger in her face even though I have to look up at her. “Actually, I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of you. I might be the Omega, but I am sick and tired of you treating me like shit. I am as much a part of this pack as anyone else. That’s why I’m still here.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, a refreshing satisfaction washing over me as I see the shock on Cynthia’s face.

Around us, our audience gasps while I hastily remove the ruined apron and fling it at Cynthia’s feet. Ignoring the sound of Dorothy’s yelling from her office, I spin on my heel and storm out of the center without giving the pack members the satisfaction of witnessing tears fall from my eyes.

Valerie was right—Cynthia didn’t change.

But I did. I became mentally strong enough to stand up to her and finally give her a piece of my mind. It’s been two years in the making, and I finally did what I never thought was possible.

It’s what gives me hope as I march to my secluded cabin on the outskirts of the forest. My heart races to the beat of every step until I’m in the sanctity of the wooden walls of the cabin, where I lock the door and exhale as if I’d been holding my breath.

That’s when the adrenaline subsides, leaving me to face the burning sensation on my chest.

Heaving in deep breaths, I rip my shirt off to unveil the damage of the hot soup on my chest. The mounds of my breasts are a deep red shade, and my breathing stutters as I move a trembling finger to touch the scorched skin.

“Ah!” I suck a breath through my teeth, my vision clouding with the tears I refused to shed in front of the Blood Moon members. Now, in the safe confines of the cabin, I allow the tears to fall as I rush to the mirror in my bedroom to inspect the injury.

No matter how hard I glare at my reflection, the burns on my chest remain. Instead of fading within seconds, I’m staring at second-degree burns that blister and swell right before my eyes.

My tears fall uncontrollably as I sink to the rug in front of the mirror, dropping my face in my hands and sobbing over the cruelest fate bestowed upon me by the Moon Goddess. If I had received my wolf on my eighteenth birthday, my body would have healed itself on my command. Because I’m wolf-less, just an Omega in the Blood Moon Pack, I have to suffer the consequences of Cynthia’s attack.

“This won’t do…” I say to myself, shaking my head as I lift my face out of my hands and meet the blue depths of my own determination in the mirror. “I’m not weak…I’m not powerless…I’m not weak…I’m not powerless…” I chant the affirmations that my best friend drilled into my head when I decided I was done with being the pack’s punching bag.

Whatever happened today isn’t enough to dampen my spirit. Not when I fought so hard over these past two years to keep my head above water in Zafra.

I’d been on the precipice of eternal doom until I decided to pick myself up and face the horrors like a gallant soldier of my own making, without an inner wolf or another blood sacrifice to the Moon Goddess.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and pick myself up to my feet, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of a dysfunctional life. If Cynthia Warren thinks that she can make my life a bigger misery now that Fynn is returning, she has another think coming.

If I could stand up to her, I sure as hell won’t be fazed by him. These brick walls still stand strong, and nothing will ever bring them down.

Not the Delta's daughter, or the Alpha’s son.

Chapter 2 - Flynn

“Yes, Father, I understand,” I concede, my fingers tightening around the cell phone pressed to my ear as I stare at the group of men in the distance. “I’ll prepare the others and come home this weekend.”

My arm drops to my side as soon as my father, the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, ends the call. I haven’t stopped watching the group of male werewolves spread out around the fire, some playing poker while others take turns poking at the meat on the barbecue.

I bite my bottom lip as I contemplate how to give my soldiers the news that we’re meant to return to Zafra and rejoin the pack after two years out in the mountains. We’ve spent that time training religiously, learning all there is to know about werewolf laws according to the ancient rulings of the Blood Moon Pack that have been passed down for centuries. Most significantly, we’ve been bonding, the group of soldiers becoming a very tight-knit group of fierce warriors who would lay their lives down for the safety of the pack.

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