Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother Chapter 114: Former Bullies

By the ti I made it out of the estate, my body was already screaming at .

I had to ignore it.

I had to ignore the way my ribs ached from Rosa’s kicks, the way my arms quivered under the weight of the trash I was hauling, and the way my dress clung wetly to my skin.

It was a constant, nauseating reminder of what had just happened. Of how I had been reduced to nothing by my own sister. The one who was supposed to be a mother figure in my life.

I hate my life.

The only thing keeping from going insane at this phase was Axel. He was the only beam of light in this dark world I had been forced into.

I kept my head down as I walked because I knew I was quite the sight.

But that didn’t stop the stares. Or the whispers.

So of the estate’s servants paused in their work to watch pass, their gazes flashing with sothing I’d call curiosity and pity.

Others just shook their heads.

And then there were those who whispered—not in sympathy, but in glee.

"She’s really fallen now, hasn’t she?" one murmured, voice low but not low enough.

"About ti. They all act like they’re better than us—now she’ll finally understand."

I swallowed hard.

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t react. Because reacting would only make it worse.

I adjusted my grip on the trash, wincing as a sharp piece of sothing dug into my arm, and kept moving.

By the ti I reached outside the estate gates, the whispers had only grown.

Unlike the estate, where people still pretended to be polite, the pack mbers had no such filter.

"She just keeps getting worse, doesn’t she?"

"First, she loses her father’s favor, now she’s literally covered in garbage. Pathetic."

"If she’s trying to get attention, she’s doing a great job."

A cruel laugh rang out from sowhere nearby.

I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second.

Then, I kept walking.

But just as I thought I could endure it—that if I just ignored them, kept my head down, and finished the task—I saw them.

Luis Miguel.

And his crew.

Fear made my throat run dry.

I couldn’t do this.

Not now.

Not them.

Not here.

I did the only thing I could do when faced with certain doom—I kept walking. Fast.

My legs burned, my arms ached, and the stench of the garbage on was so strong I was sure it had beco part of my soul. But none of that compared to the sheer terror that gripped my chest when I saw them.

Luis Miguel. Gonzalo. Pedro. And... What’s-His-Na.

Okay, his na was Rubén, but in my defense, I had bigger problems than keeping track of the fourth mber of my personal nightmare squad.

They were huddled under a tree, deeply engrossed in whatever foolishness they were up to—most likely gambling away what little dignity they had left.

Gonzalo was chewing on an apple like it had offended him, Pedro was flicking a coin between his fingers, Rubén was sprawled out like he had nowhere better to be, and Luis Miguel—oh, Luis Miguel—was leaning against the tree, looking too pleased with himself.

I might have gotten away unnoticed. I really might have.

But Luis Miguel was the worst kind of leader: the kind whose minions adored him.

Gonzalo noticed first. His eyes widened, and then, as if he had been electrocuted, he reached out and smacked Pedro’s arm.

Pedro, rubbing his new bruise, turned and promptly elbowed Rubén, who yelped in protest before following their line of sight.

And then Rubén, not to be left out, smacked Luis Miguel’s chest.

Luis Miguel, who had been smugly watching whatever coins they were losing, blinked. Then, slowly—too slowly—he followed their gazes.

His lips curled into a smile.

I was officially dead.

They stood up in unison, like a pack of hyenas catching the scent of an injured gazelle. My stomach wobbled. I was too tired for this.

Too filthy. Too fed up.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and decided that if I ignored them, maybe, they’d let pass.

I couldn’t even deal with them. The mory of what they did to the last ti was engraved in my brain. What sucks was that I could do nothing about it.

I couldn’t slap Luis Miguel for kissing . I couldn’t get justice for the hell they put through afterward. It was because of them that I had to work at the butchery, that I had to get harassed and get grounded by Father.

It was because of them that I’d get punished by Father as soon as he had my ti.

Just act like they aren’t there, María José.

I took one step.

Then another.

I was almost safe. Almost...

"♪ No sé tú, pero yo... ♪" (I don’t know about you, but I...)

I froze.

Surely, I had imagined that. Surely, my brain was now so exhausted that it was making up things.

I took another step.

"♪ Desde que te vi, supe que eras para mí... ♪" (The mont I saw you, I knew you were ant for ...)

Okay.

Nope.

That was definitely a voice. A singing voice.

I turned, very, very slowly.

And there they were.

Luis Miguel. Gonzalo. Pedro. Rubén.

Standing in a perfect line.

Singing. Singing.

I blinked. They were actually harmonizing. Harmonizing.

Luis Miguel was leading, his voice deep and dramatic, while Gonzalo and Pedro handled the backup vocals like they had been rehearsing for this mont their entire lives.

Rubén, naturally, had sohow found an old tin can and was using it as percussion.

I had officially lost my mind.

People were watching now. Of course, they were. How often did you get to witness four bullies putting on a full-blown musical number in the middle of the street?

Luis Miguel took a dramatic step forward. "♪ No hay estrella más brillante que tú... ♪" (There is no star brighter than you).

What the heck was going on?

Was it or was Luis Miguel and his friends singing for ?

Hell, so publicly and so shalessly.