My Life Is A Nightmare

Lydia

The sick smile on Uncle Abel’s face remained fixed as his words settled over me.

“You already belong to the Alpha Lord now.”

For several seconds, I could only stare at him.

Then the meaning crashed into me with such force that my chest tightened.

“You sold me?” My voice came out hoarse despite my attempt to control it. “You sold me to Lord Magnus of Bridgevine?”

The wicked gleam in Abel’s eyes deepened as though my shock pleased him. “Do not make it sound so unpleasant, Lydia. I made an arrangement.”

An arrangement.

That was what he called selling his own niece to the most infamous Alpha Lord in the kingdom.

My stomach twisted as every terrible story I had ever heard about Magnus came rushing back. They said he ruled Bridgevine with laws so strict that even his most loyal subjects feared disappointing him. They said he had killed men with his bare hands and watched his enemies beg for mercy without blinking.

The worst stories were always about his palace.

Anyone unfortunate enough to enter it rarely came out again, except dead.

Fear crawled beneath my skin, cold and merciless, but I refused to let Abel see it. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how terrified I was.

“Why?” I demanded, forcing my trembling hands behind my back. “Why would you do this to me?”

His expression hardened.

“Because you are no longer important to me.”

The words struck harder than they should have.

“You have occupied space in my home for years,” he continued. “You eat our food, wear our clothes, and create burdens that should never have been mine to carry. You should be grateful that I found a man who knows your worth.”

He sneered as he spoke those final words.

Revulsion surged through me.

I knew exactly what he meant.

Abel had not found me a husband because he cared about my future. He had handed me over like an object, and the thought of what the Alpha Lord might expect from me made bile rise in my throat.

“You sold me as a sex slave.”

The silence that followed felt poisonous.

I could not believe it.

My own uncle, my mother’s brother, had looked at me and decided that my body was worth more than my life.

“I barely take up any space here,” I said, anger finally pushing past my fear. “You gave me a storage room to sleep in. I barely eat because you hardly feed me, and I spend every waking hour cleaning this house for your family.”

The slap came so quickly that I did not see it.

My head snapped sideways as pain exploded across my cheek. I stumbled, catching myself against the edge of his desk before I fell.

“Ungrateful girl!”

When I looked back at him, his eyes were blazing red.

His alpha pheromones flooded the office, thick with rage and command, pressing against my senses in an attempt to force me into submission. Usually, I would lower my head. I would soften my scent and pretend that the pressure had worked.

Not today.

I was too angry.

My wolf pushed forward, furious and bristling beneath my skin.

For once, I did not stop her immediately.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked.

Abel’s mouth curled with disgust.

“You are the result of my foolish younger sister’s rebellion. She ran away with a poor excuse for an alpha who could not even provide a proper home for her. She threw away her family for love, and look how that ended.”

Something inside my chest cracked.

He was speaking about my parents.

I wanted to defend them. I wanted to tell him he had no right to speak about people who were no longer alive to defend themselves. But I knew where arguing would lead.

Abel was angry, and anger always made him crueler.

So I swallowed the ache and lowered my eyes.

“Go and pack your things,” he ordered. “You leave tomorrow.”

I did not wait for him to dismiss me again.

I ran.

By the time I reached my tiny room, tears were already blurring my vision. I shut the door behind me and sank onto my narrow bed, pressing both hands over my mouth as the sobs finally escaped.

Why did nothing good ever happen to me?

I cried until my chest hurt.

Then I thought about Lord Magnus.

I imagined a towering monster with blood on his hands and cruelty in his eyes. I wondered how long I would survive beneath his roof. A week? A month? Would he break me slowly, or would he grow tired of me and kill me like the stories claimed he did to everyone who displeased him?

Fear kept me awake long after exhaustion should have claimed me.

Whenever my thoughts became unbearable, I whispered to myself that I would survive. I had survived Abel’s house. I had survived hunger, loneliness, and cruelty.

Perhaps I could survive Bridgevine too.

Morning came far too quickly.

My eyes were swollen from crying, and my head throbbed from lack of sleep, but Aunt had no sympathy when she ordered me to begin cleaning. I swept, dusted, and prepared breakfast while my mind remained trapped in the nightmare waiting ahead.

When the food was ready, Uncle Abel surprised me.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the dining table.

I froze.

Maria and Aunt both looked displeased when I took the empty chair, but neither protested. The silence felt strange as I stared at the plate placed before me.

“Eat well,” Abel said.

I looked up.

“You will need all the strength you can gather for your new duties.”

The mocking amusement in his voice turned my stomach.

I understood the implication immediately.

My appetite vanished, but I forced myself to eat. Each mouthful felt like ash, and I kept swallowing only because Abel watched me with cold amusement.

After breakfast, he instructed Maria to give me one of her old dresses.

Maria disappeared upstairs and returned with a simple gown that was clearly worn but still clean and intact.

“Do not ruin it,” she muttered as she threw it at me.

I changed quickly.

The dress fit me poorly, but it was the nicest thing I had worn in years.

Soon afterward, Abel led me outside.

The journey to Bridgevine passed in a blur of rattling wheels and anxious silence. I sat beside my uncle without speaking, watching familiar roads disappear behind us while my stomach tightened with every mile.

By late afternoon, the Alpha Lord’s estate finally appeared.

My breath caught.

The mansion was enormous, far larger than anything I had ever seen, with dark stone walls and towering windows that reflected the dying sunlight. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress built to keep the world out.

Or keep its prisoners in.

My hands began to shake, but inside my mind, my wolf bristled with anger.

Easy, I silently warned her.

She snarled in response.

This is not the time to be difficult.

She was having none of it.

I barely noticed Abel taking hold of my arm until he dragged me through the enormous entrance and down a corridor lined with portraits. Servants moved quietly around us, their heads lowered as though even breathing too loudly might be dangerous.

My heart pounded harder with every step.

Then Abel stopped before a pair of enormous wooden doors.

He knocked once.

A deep voice answered from inside.

“Enter.”

Abel pushed the doors open and pulled me with him.

The first thing that hit me was the scent.

It filled the entire office, rich and mouthwatering, carrying something dark, warm, and dangerously intoxicating. My wolf went suddenly silent.

I lifted my eyes.

And forgot how to breathe.

The Alpha Lord of Bridgevine stood beside a large desk, looking nothing like the monster I had imagined.

He was tall, impossibly handsome, with dark hair and a powerful body wrapped in expensive black clothing. His face was entirely human, his expression calm, almost unreadable.

Nothing about him looked beastly.

Yet the moment his eyes settled on me, every instinct inside me whispered the same terrifying truth.

The monster was real.

He simply wore the face of a god.