Terlahir Kembali: Tumbal Kekejaman Suami Bengis

Ava’s POV

“Scrub harder!” she yelled, and I had no choice but to obey.

I pressed the brush harder into the floor, though it made little difference. The head maid stood over me with her eyes sharp, judging me. My knuckles were red and starting to bleed, but she didn’t care. She sipped her steaming tea like a queen watching a servant perform.

Technically, that was exactly what I was.

“Missed a spot,” she snapped, then kicked the bucket at me. Cold water splashed across my legs as the metal edge struck my elbow and pain shot up my arm.

“Even a bastard should know how to clean… Oh wait, that’s what you are.” She cackled at her own joke, her laughter raspy and smug.

I said nothing. Speaking earned slaps. Eye contact earned worse. So I bit the inside of my cheek and kept scrubbing, ignoring the sting in my joints and the ache in my bones.

The scent of roast meat floated down the hallway. Full Moon Festival preparations were well underway. For most of the pack, it would be a night of music, feasting, and celebration. For me, it meant more work, more chances to be “accidentally” shoved, stepped on, or touched by drunk male wolves who thought I was fair game.

Footsteps echoed from down the hall.

“Miss Rhinehart,” the head maid said, straightening.

I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. I still did.

Ella. My half-sister.

Same father. Different mothers. Different worlds.

I stood and gave a small bow, just like I’d been taught, just like a servant.

“Oh hi, Ava,” she cooed sweetly, her eyes scanning me like I was filth. “What are you wearing to the festival tonight? Probably a pretty dress?” She tilted her head, smiling cruelly. “Oh, wait. You don’t have one, do you?”

Before I could move, she shoved me hard. I hit the floor with a dull thud, my hip catching on the bucket, pain shooting through my side.

Her heel dug into my hand as she stepped over me.

“You’ll be scrubbing while the rest of us dance. Try not to cry too much. It makes the floor slippery.”

I didn’t cry.

Not when I was scrubbing. Not when Beta Joshua, my father in name only, walked by without glancing my way. Not when the warriors used me for target practice during training. Not even when Ella twisted my wrist last week for spilling tea on her expensive skirt.

I only cried when I was alone. But even that had stopped.

My room, if you could call it that, was a supply closet with a cot shoved into the corner. I curled up on it, watching as the last streaks of sunlight filtered through a crack in the wooden wall.

The festival will start soon. Music, dancing, and food. Maybe they’d toss me scraps. Maybe not.

I turned over and stared at the ceiling. Mould crept in from the corners. The wood was cracked and rotting. My claw marks were still there, scratched into the wall from the nights I was lashed and left alone, hoping someone would hear me.

No one ever did.

I used to think my mother would’ve saved me if she were still alive. She would’ve taken me away, somewhere quiet, where no one called me "bastard" or looked at me like dirt. But she was dead. And I was the mistake she left behind.

Being an omega didn’t help either. It made everything worse.

“You’re too weak,” Joshua had said flatly the one time I asked why I wasn’t allowed to train with the others. There had been no anger in his voice, there had been no emotion at all.

I curled tighter on the cot. Outside, I could hear distant music and laughter.

It was my birthday.

No one had said a word. Not that I expected it. But part of me still wanted to be noticed.

I should leave. Run far away. But where would I even go?

I’d asked myself that question too many times. Rogues roamed the woods. I had no allies, no money, no food.

Staying here was safer. It was cruel, but it was familiar. The devil I knew.

Maybe I’d find my mate. He’d take me away, love me, give me the life I deserved. That was all I had to hold onto.

So I told myself I’d stay. Like always.

I drifted into an exhausted sleep. Music sounded loudly beyond the walls but just when the noise faded into my dreams, the door slammed open.

Sarah’s voice filled the air. “Lazy girl! Get up. The Alpha Hall needs cleaning after dinner. And wear something that doesn’t stink like a wet dog.”

She threw a gown at me, stained, and reeking of sweat.

I stood slowly. My legs were trembling. Hunger? Fear? Both.

The cracked mirror on the wall showed a version of me I barely recognised, tangled black hair, hollow cheeks, fading bruises on my jaw and collarbone. But the eyes stopped me.

Golden but dull.

My mother’s eyes. The ones they all hated.

I left the closet in silence and made my way to the Alpha Hall. It was dimly lit, mostly empty. I stepped inside with the bucket and cleaning supplies, hearing the faint echo of the guests ' laughter passing by.

Then I felt it.

A hand on my wrist, gripping it tightly.

I gasped and twisted, but the grip held firm. “Let go of me! Leave me alone!”

I was yanked behind a tall pillar, then shoved into a corner. My back hit the wall with a hard force. A shadow loomed in front of me and my heart raced in fear as his face came closer to mine and his reeking breath hit my nose.

“I’ve been waiting for you, sugar,” he said, voice dark and filled with lust.  

Light from a gap in the curtains hit his face and my stomach dropped.

One of the warriors. The one who always stared too long, who made lewd comments when no one was listening. He had tried to make a move on me and professed love so many times but I refused him.

But something was wrong this time…

“Did you miss me?” he smirked.