THE CURSED ALPHA PRINCESS

Seraphina's POV.

I stumbled out of the woods as my tattered purple tunic clung to me, soaked in blood and torn from the night’s shift. My limbs ached and my mouth still tasted of iron bitter and warm blood. I tried to ruffle my long blonde hair, gently pushing it away from my eyes, but my fingers were trembling.

My claws had only just begun to retract, coated with blood and dirt, and my vision was still hazy from the shift.

The sun was trying to rise, but the forest canopy above was so thick that it kept me wrapped in darkness. My wolf whimpered weakly inside me. She was shaken. Actually, we both were and I couldn't comfort her.

‘It happened again.’

I staggered like a drunken beast, dazed by the thickness of the morning mist. My bare feet scraped across sharp stones.

Another uncontrollable night. Another shift I didn’t command. Another blackout.

But I didn’t know that this night would change everything. That this night... would mark the beginning of my doom.

As I staggered toward the clearing, I heard whispers low, horrified murmurs and then I saw them.

My pack.

Dozens of them, gathered around someone laying on the ground.

Someone not moving.

A lifeless body.

No...

My heart pounded violently in my chest. My wolf whimpered louder as my vision cleared just enough to make out the blood soaked tunic of the man on the floor. The scent hit me hard as it was familiar.

Too familiar.

“Here she comes,” someone growled. “The murderer. The cursed one. She’s finally done it again.”

“No...” I gasped, stumbling forward, my knees threatening to give out.

It was my father.

Alpha Flynn. The most respected warrior and commandant in the Crimson Moon Pack. The man who raised me. His throat was torn, blood pooling beneath his lifeless body. His eyes stared into the void.

His body laid cold in his deep indigo Alpha robe, trimmed with black wolf-fur and his crest stitched proudly over the heart.

I fell to my knees beside him.

“No, no, no! Dad!” I cried. “I didn’t mean to.... I didn’t know.... I didn’t...”

I couldn’t breathe. My lungs collapsed. My wolf whimpered and curled inside me, but even she couldn’t hide from this.

Footsteps thundered behind me.

It was my mother, Elysia.

She ran toward us in her flowing maroon velvet gown, the kind only Gamma wolves of high ranks wear, but the long trailing skirt tangled around her legs as she ran, nearly falling as she reached me. She didn’t shift though I knew she wanted to.

She dropped beside his body, her hands trembling as she cradled his head on her lap. Blood smeared across her dress, her arms, her chest. Her sobs tore through the air like blades.

“What have you done, Seraphina?” she growled as her once gentle brown eyes were staring at me with so much hate and disgust.

“I.... I didn’t mean to,” I choked out, reaching for her. “Mom, please...”

She flinched away like I was a plague to be avoided at all cost. “You’ve cursed us. Betrayed your blood.”

The crowd grew louder. Stones hit the ground near me. One struck my shoulder. Another hit my thigh.

“She’s a beast!”

“She should be banished!”

“She murdered her own father!”

"She'd be the death of every one of us if we don't do something about her!"

“No... I didn’t.” I tried to stand, but someone pushed me back down.

Then he appeared.

Dante.

My Alpha mate.

Tall, cold, cruel, his black hair slicked back, his silver eyes filled with nothing but disgust.

He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t care. He just looked at me like I was filth.

“I always knew you were a disgrace,” he growled, his voice dripping with venom.

“A psychopath pretending to be special!”

"...because what on the goddess' earth is special about your unruly shift that made you murder your father!"

“You disgust me, Sera!” he spat across my face. His saliva dripped along my jawline.

I froze. Every word hit me harder than the stones these people were throwing at me.

“You should’ve been put down the day your curse first showed,” he continued, stepping closer. “You’re not a she-wolf. You’re a monster in heat.”

Tears blurred my vision. I shook my head. “Please... don’t say that. I didn’t...”

Dante grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking it so hard I cried out in pain.

“Dante!” I whimpered, grabbing his wrist. “Let go please!”

But he didn’t. He yanked harder, dragging me away from my father’s corpse, away from the weeping crowd. My legs scraped against the ground, sharp stones tore into my knees, my arms, my back. The dry earth bit into my skin.

I screamed with tears.

“Dante, stop! Please! it hurts!”

Still, he dragged me across the pack’s courtyard, ignoring my pleas, my blood, my broken sobs. My claws scraped the dirt behind me. The murmurs followed. No one stopped him. No one helped.

Because to them... I deserved it.

We reached the Alpha quarters. He slammed the door open and threw me onto the cold stone floor. I hit the ground with a crack, pain flaring in my ribs.

“Akira!” he growled.

My childhood beta friend entered, her face pale.

“Y... Yes Alpha?”

“Bring the salt.”

I gasped. “No... no, Dante... please. Don’t do this.”

Akira hesitated. Her hands shook but the command in his tone as an alpha warrior was irresistible. She knew what was about to happen. But fear kept her obedient.

Minutes later, she returned with a bowl full of coarse white salt. My heart dropped.

“Dante, please... I’m begging you,” I said, crawling backward, my voice cracking.

He smirked.

He just grabbed the bowl, tied me down, and slowly began pouring the salt onto my wounds.

“NO.... Ahhhhggg...!” I winced and screamed, the pain unlike anything I’d ever felt. It was fire. Real torture. It was my punishment and I couldn't break free as I was tied hands and feet.

The salt sizzled against my torn skin. I thrashed and cried, blood and tears soaking the floor. Every grain of salt felt like a blade stabbing into me.

Akira covered her mouth, tears in her eyes, but she didn’t dare move.

Dante leaned in close. “Let this be your reminder,” he whispered. “Of who you really are.”

A sob tore from my throat.

And then just when I thought I’d passed out my mother’s voice came again.

Cold. Distant.

“I wish you had died instead of your father.”

The pain in my chest eclipsed every other wound.

And that was the moment…

I stopped begging.