Alpha Ragnar's Unclaimed Mate

Chapter 1

The slap came out of nowhere.

It swept me off my feet, sending me crashing to the ground in the opposite direction. My shaky hands instinctively moved to nurse my now swollen, red cheek, trying to soothe the pain. But with a single touch, the pain doubled in intensity, and I let out a sharp hiss of displeasure. A tear stung the side of my eye, but I refused to let it fall. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me suffer.

“Why can’t you do anything right? Are you so dull that you don’t even know how to hold a pitcher steady?” Derick sneered, his voice filled with disgust.

“Worthless wretch,” Sylvia chipped in, shaking out her hand as if striking me had somehow dirtied her. Her expression was one of pure disdain as her gaze darted between the spilled water on the table and me, crumpled on the floor. “So, this is how you repay us for keeping a roof over your head?”

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, but I knew better. It wasn’t worth it. There was no point in making things worse than they already were.

“Maybe if she weren’t so useless, someone might actually want her,” Cassandra, my stepsister, added with a smirk. She always knew how to add salt to the wound.

I gritted my teeth, keeping my gaze glued to the ground. I had long since stopped expecting kindness from them. Ever since my parents died, I had become nothing more than a burden in their eyes—an unwanted guest in my own home. They had moved in under the pretense of caring for me, but fate had dealt me a cruel hand, and they only added to my misery.

“Clean up this mess,” Sylvia snapped, gesturing at the spilled water and shattered pitcher. “And don’t even think about eating anything tonight. You don’t deserve it.”

Not that it mattered. Even on good days, my meals consisted of scraps left behind after dinner, whatever I could pick off the plates while washing the dishes. But now, at least I was sure I wouldn’t be doing the dishes tonight.

I rose from the ground, quickly doing as I was told so I could disappear from sight.

Gathering the broken shards of the pitcher and wiping up the water with the frayed hem of my dress, I moved swiftly, purposely ignoring the pain.

Afterward, I made my way to my ‘room’—the attic. The only available space they allowed me to sleep in.

Once inside, the silence was welcoming. I didn’t even realize when my legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, resting my back against the door I had closed behind me.

This was my life. Every single day.

Just a mixture of pain, regret, and torment.

Always leaving me asking: When would it all end?

The sound of footsteps jolted me awake.

I sat up abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest.

The room was mostly dark, save for the moonlight filtering through the small window in the roof. It cast a dim glow over the attic, revealing the shadows of two figures. It took me a few seconds to recognize them.

Sylvia and Cassandra.

A sick sense of foreboding crawled up my spine. Something was wrong.

Why were they here?

Before I could react, Sylvia grabbed my arm roughly, yanking me up from the ground.

“Get up,” she sneered.

“What—?” My voice cracked as I tried to resist, struggling to make sense of what was happening. But Cassandra wrenched my other arm, her nails digging into my skin without mercy.

“Shut up and come quietly,” she hissed.

A cold wave of fear surged through me like ice water.

This was different.

This wasn’t one of their usual punishments.

It felt like something worse.

Instinctively, I resisted, thrashing against their grip. “Please! If this is about me ruining dinner, I’m sorry!” I begged.

“Stupid brat!” Sylvia struck me again, this time across the other cheek.

The force of it sent me reeling, my vision momentarily blurring.

Dazed, I barely registered my hair cascading down my face like a veil before they dragged me out of the attic.

“Please… I’m sorry! Forgive me!” I pleaded desperately.

But my cries fell on deaf ears.

My breath came in uneven puffs as the gravel bit into my bare feet while they hauled me forward. I had stopped begging, knowing it was pointless.

So this was how they planned to get rid of me? I thought bitterly.

There was nothing to do but embrace the inevitable at this point.

And yet, my pulse still raced.

It wasn’t until they dropped me abruptly to the ground that, through the slits of my hair, I saw him.

Derick stood beside me, his attention fixed on the figure in front of him.

I followed his gaze, my breath hitching as my eyes locked onto the man standing before me.

He was tall, with an aura so powerful it sent shivers down my spine.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, framing a well-defined jawline.

But it was his eyes that trapped me—cold, greenish, and utterly devoid of warmth or care.

I couldn’t help the way my insides churned as I swallowed the lump growing in my throat.

He had to be an Alpha.

“Is this her?” His voice was low, but it held the weight of absolute authority.

“Yes, Alpha Ragnar,” Sylvia answered quickly, her tone suddenly sickly sweet.

His next words caught me by surprise.

“Then our deal here is done.”

Deal?

Like a trade?

Realization slammed into me like a tidal wave.

They had sold me.

My breath came in short, sharp gasps as I looked between them, searching for an explanation.

Instead, I got a brutal confirmation.

Derick stood there, smiling at the stack of cash someone from Ragnar’s party had just handed him.

Sylvia’s wicked smile deepened as she savored every second of the moment, while Cassandra gave me a mocking wave, her fingers curling in a sarcastic farewell.

I felt numb.

But before confusion and anxiety could morph into full-blown rage, two men from Ragnar’s party stepped forward.

Their intent was clear.

I barely had time to shoot the angriest glare I had ever given my so-called family when Ragnar turned away, snapping his fingers.

Without looking back, he commanded—

“Take her.”