Diana’s Pov
"I Alexander Orion Stone, Rejects you to be my mate," he said with all smugness and my heart shattered.
"What... you...you can’t" I said, tears choking .
****
12 hours before impending doom.
"You deserve to die. How dare you?" I heard my father’s second daughter, Victoria, say to as she ca into the bathroom where I was seated, scrubbing the floor.
I looked at Victoria, whose eyes were blazing with anger. "What have I done?" I asked, my voice a re whisper as I was confused about her attitude.
"You didn’t go get the special bread I wanted," she accused, her tone dripping with venom. "It didn’t have the nuts or the vanilla flavor I wanted."
I bit my lip, "I—I didn’t know you wanted a specific kind of bread," I stamred, desperately trying to avoid confrontation. I wasn’t ready for another hit. "Why do I need to die for that?"
"You dare question ?" Victoria pushed my head to the point that it hit the bathroom wall. Victoria scoffed, "Ignorant girl, always playing the victim. You’re just trying to avoid your responsibilities, as usual."
I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white, as I continued scrubbing the floor. "I’m sorry," I muttered,
"Sorry won’t cut it," Victoria sneered, lifting her foot to kick the bucket of soapy water, sending it splashing across the tiles. "Clean this ss up, and rember your place."
As I silently cleaned the ss, the weight of their disdain pressed heavily on my shoulders. My stepmother, Cynthia, entered the room with a disapproving scowl, amplifying the suffocating atmosphere.
"What’s going on here?" she demanded, her gaze piercing through .
"Diana failed to get the bread I wanted. She’s useless," Victoria interjected, her words a declaration of my incompetence.
Cynthia glared at , a disdainful smile forming on her lips. "You truly are a burden in this household. How Carlisle tolerates you, I’ll never understand."
My heart sank, the ache of their words deepening the wounds already etched into my soul. I wished for escape, a respite from the constant tornt. Just as I mustered the strength to endure another day, a whispered conversation between Cynthia and Victoria caught my attention.
"The grand hall is preparing for the mating ceremony. The Alpha King and his heir would be there," Cynthia murmured, her eyes gleaming with excitent.
Victoria grinned, "Really mother?"
Cynthia nodded. "Our family was invited."
Victoria giggled, "Oh my, just imagining Alex there. and him dancing under the stars. It would be beautiful mother"
Cynthia smiled. "That’s if he chooses you. You would be Luna my darling girl"
A flicker of hope sparked within . Maybe the ceremony would be my chance to escape this hellish existence. If only I could go.
Alexander. Next heir to the Jaguars pack. A neighboring pack to ours. My father was the alpha of our pack, and of course he would be invited. aning I would have the chance to et the man I have been secretly admiring. Alexander. He has been my crush since I was a child.
Even before Victoria and Cynthia had co into my life.
If Victoria were to beco Luna though, she would have more authority over than just being the favored daughter of my family. Father loves her. Cynthia loved her. She was the perfect daughter.
No one loves . Not the disgrace who can’t get the cutleries right, who is not elegant and who was nothing but an oga. A slave. Everyone in crimson was strong but I, first daughter of an alpha, was weak.
But if I were to get a mate. All my problems would be solved.
I smiled as I quickly cleaned the floor excitedly.
Cynthia scoffed, "And what are you smiling about? Go get Victoria her bread before I hit you"
The chilling wind clawed at my ragged clothes as I approached the familiar wooden door of the village bakery.
My stomach, an empty pit echoing with hunger, urged forward. I raised my frail hand to knock, a desperate rhythm matching the hollow beats within .
No response. No comforting aroma of freshly baked bread wafting through the cracks, no warm embrace of kindness awaiting on the other side.
The door remained shut, sealing away the sustenance my body craved. I knocked again, harder this ti, hoping against hope for a sliver of rcy.
The laughter from inside seeped through the gaps in the door, a cruel symphony mocking my futile attempts. I pressed my ear against the cold wood, catching fragnts of their mirth, their joyous happiness within those walls. My heart sank as I realized I was an outsider to their happiness, an unwanted guest in a feast of exclusion.
I knocked again. "I just want to get so bread"
"Look who’s here! It’s the oga, the beggar girl," a voice jeered from within.
I trembled, the cruel words cutting deeper than any physical pain. The title ’oga’ echoed my place in this unforgiving pack, the lowest of the low, the scapegoat for their collective disdain.
The door remained my impenetrable barrier, shutting out from the warmth and sustenance just beyond my reach.
"Why don’t you go dig in the trash where you belong?" another voice taunted, the laughter swelling like a relentless tide.
Tears blurred my vision, and the weight of the laughter pressed upon like an oppressive force. The icy wind whispered secrets of abandonnt, reminding that even the bakery door held no solace for an oga.
"I just want so bread," I whispered to the indifferent wood, my voice a feeble plea against the roaring storm of their disdain.
But they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t open the door for . The laughter persisted, drowning out the echoes of my silent hunger. I turned away, shoulders hunched against the biting wind, an invisible cage forged by their prejudice trapping in a cycle of despair.
No one was going to sell it to .
I hoped they would forget about the bread at ho. I wasn’t ready for another torture.
Later, as I returned ho, the scent of misery clung to like a shadow. Cynthia and Victoria wasted no ti in finding fault.
"You didn’t clean the bathroom in Victoria’s room," Cynthia accused, her voice slicing through the air like a cold wind.
"I’ve been scrubbing floors all day," I defended myself, my fatigue evident in every word. "I also went out to look for-"
Victoria sneered, enjoying the spectacle of my degradation. "You’re just lazy and useless. No wonder you’ll never find a mate."
"What do you an? I finished all my work so I can go out to the mating ball." I said with a croaky voice. "I will find my mate"
Cynthia scoffed, "Who said you were going? You better remain here, in the cleaner’s room where you belong" "
I frowned. "What do you an? I-I need to go to the mating ball."
Cynthia laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the room. "And who are you? What are you going to do there? Who is going to mate with the only oga of the Crimson pack?"
My heart sank as her words pierced through , mocking any hope that had dared to surface. Victoria, already dressed in an elegant gown, sneered at with a triumphant glint in her eyes.
The grandeur of her attire only intensified the stark contrast between us.
"You see, Diana," Victoria taunted, twirling in her gown, "so of us are ant for greatness, while others are destined for servitude. Know your place."
Tears welled in my eyes, and a lump ford in my throat. The unfairness of it all suffocated . I longed for the chance to escape the chains of their oppression, to revel in the possibility of a different life at the mating ball.
Cynthia, reveling in my despair, took pleasure in each tear that fell. "You’ll stay here, where you belong. Enjoy the festivities from the confines of your misery."
With that, she locked the door behind her, leaving alone in the suffocating darkness.
I sank to the cold floor, tears streaming down my face as I pleaded to the moon goddess for a sliver of rcy. "Why do they hate so much? What have I done to deserve this tornt?"
As my cries reached the heavens, the room seed to tighten around , trapping in a web of hopelessness. The moon offered no solace, it’s cold glow casting a haunting light on my despair.
In the midst of my pain, I noticed a faint glimr of light seeping through the bottom of the door. A spark of curiosity ignited within , overshadowing the depths of my sorrow. Crawling closer, I peered through the small opening.
There, in the dim light, I saw a sliver of hope—a key left in the door.
2-Mating Ceremony
Diana’s POV
I, adorned in a gown of midnight blue silk that clung to my figure, moved gracefully through the grand hall of the Jaguar pack’s mating ball. The dress, a precious inheritance from my mother, cascaded elegantly around like a waterfall of shadows.
I wore a mask, crafted with intricate details of silver and sapphire, concealed my delicate features.
With just my lips showing, making unrecognizable
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