LOGINHe was the untouchable, unstoppable Alpha King, beauty and power forged into a single man; commanding attention wherever he went. She was the untouched, ugly, rogue wolf, surviving on scraps and living in shadows. He was tainted and evil, known to bend the will of even the demons, while she was pure and innocent, going around spreading warmth in a word that had shown her none. He needed a Bride to dispose off without regret. She needed a man to love her for her beauty within. Can the beauty thaw the ice stone heart of the beast?Or will she be a lamb, laid down at the altar, deceased?
View MoreEve’s POV Warmth. That’s the first thing I feel, not comfort, not safety, just warmth pressing against the frozen ache inside my bones. I blink, slowly, as if my eyelashes have weights stitched onto them, and my blurred vision sharpens into a pair of wide, glassy eyes. Teary. Terrified. Familiar. A breath escapes her, shaky, broken. “Li-Lilly?” Her name leaves my mouth like a memory dragged across gravel, rough and painful. Her face folds, relief pouring through her expression so fiercely it almost hurts to see. “Eve—Eve—oh my god, you’re awake!” Her voice trembles with a mixture of shock and guilt. “Does it hurt anywhere? Wait….wait. I’ll call the doctor—” She moves too fast and instinct kicks in before logic. My fingers shoot out and catch her wrist. Pain spikes through my arm like knives twisting into nerves. I grit my teeth. Fuck. Dammit. What bones weren’t broken? She freezes, staring at where my bruised hand clings to her skin. I force a smile, a patheti
Numb.I am too numb to move, too numb to scream, too numb to even comprehend the horror unfolding before me. The air is thick with screams, cries for mercy, pleas for repentance and I feel nothing.Blood.The blood pooling at my feet is nothing compared to the rivers of red coursing through the mud. Limbs, faces, lives… all undone without a single touch, without a single motion from the man at the center of this storm.He.This place, meant to be my grave, my punishment, suddenly looks like hell itself and at its heart stands the creator. The Satan.Him.Hands shoved into his pockets, broad back turned to me, standing calm, unreadable. He does nothing but look, and they claw at his feet. They scream. They beg. “Mercy… mercy…”Yet he gives none.I blink through the haze fogging my senses. Desperate to see more, to see him more, I push my failing body to raise my eyes. But the edges of my vision are already darkening. My strength is leaving me like sand through trembling fingers.And th
Trust me when I say I tried.I tried with every drained cell in my body every dying spark of courage in my mind to keep my head high. To stay resilient. Unbreakable. To look these people in the eye and show them that they couldn’t break me.Never.But I’m tired.Days… weeks… months. I can’t anymore. My mind is still fierce, determined, unyielding but Luna… she’s gone quiet. I haven’t heard her voice in weeks. Zain’s betrayal broke her, pushed her into a shell she refuses to come out of. And now… my body’s surrendering too.It can’t take this anymore.I’m lying in a pool of my own blood. Every inch of my skin marred with cuts, bruises, filth no patch of flesh untouched. My tattered excuse of clothes hang by threads, soaked red and clinging to me. My head is numb, limbs drained, stomach hollow. My heart the only thing still fighting beats weakly, stubbornly… but I can feel it faltering.As the last whip lands on my back, I don’t flinch. I go numb to the pain. I feel nothing , empty ,unt
If someone had ever asked me to choose between death or pride, I would have chosen death. I would die before I let anyone stain my pride.And maybe Zain knew this.Because with every stroke of the whip, I not only feel fresh blood seeping down my back to pool beneath me — I feel my clothes… my pride, or rather the tattered remains of it, being stripped from my body.He is doing it intentionally — striking the same place over and over again.And you know the worst part? I can’t use my hands, can’t shield myself from the hungry eyes of the bystanders watching.My bra barely hangs around my chest. The boxers still cover my bottom, but they’re tearing from behind.I look no better than a naked portrait painted in red and filth — exposed and waiting to be unveiled.As if realizing I’ve figured out his intent, I feel Zain’s hot breath near my ear, amusement dripping from his tone.“Just look at all those men staring at you, Eve. They’re waiting for it… waiting to see their so-called Queen,






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