Too Late To Beg, My Alpha

Dahlia’s POV“Why did you come to the banquet?? I told you to stay inside."I whirled around, but before I could utter a word, a slap landed across my face. I staggered backwards, the wet mop clattering to the floor“Didn't you hear me? How dare you!”I raised my hand off my burning cheek and raised my head to look at my aunt. She stood there like the devil, hands on her hips, her eyes burning with fire. I didn't know whether she was referring to the messy leftovers and bones I ate off the dishes as I washed them. But I opened my mouth to answer.“I didn't eat the leftovers, Lunar Jane,” I said slowly. “The remaining food after the banquet is still in the kitchen.”“I told you not to show your face around the area, but you kept moving up and down, distracting our honorable guests with your dirty clothes and your stupid long hair.”“I'm sorry, Lunar."Another slap landed on my face, directly on my eye, and I lost my balance and tripped onto the floor.The stinging effect of the slap sh

Dahlia’s POVThe impact of the fall was harsh. Falling off the 3rd floor in a large mansion, as this should have left me with a broken neck. But my Alpha bones were stronger. Around 2 a.m., I slowly regained consciousness. The moon was bright, and the gentle breeze caressed my bare skin. I looked around. I was in the flower garden, and behind me was the apple tree under which Lunar Jane hosted her coffee parties.I gathered my long gown with my hand as I hoisted myself up, struggling to remain on my feet. I had sustained a huge gash on my forehead, and it bled into my eyes. Climbing back through the window at such a height was impossible. But I doubted that the guards at the entrance would let me in. So I decided to spend the rest of the night at the home of Madame Boston, the woman who babysat me as a child, before my father passed away.The path to the tiny cottage she lived in was long, dark, and sloppy, but I found determination in my neediness. I gathered the long ball Darryn bou

Dahlia's POV What did I do to deserve this? I would never kill anyone. Yes, I'd killed a rabbit once, and Madam Boston had berated me afterward. Does that sound like a woman who murders an Alpha? Does that sound like anyone who has ever taken a life with intention and cold blood and whatever stillness you need inside yourself to do something like that?”That is when the crying started again, which I was not going to pretend I had any control over anymore. It came in waves now.I would be sitting here completely still, staring at the cave wall, telling myself to think practically—find water, find food, stay hidden—and then the memory just arrived. The way everyone had looked at me that night made me wail louder. The circle of faces, all of them gone cold overnight, people I had shared meals with and bowed to and tried so hard to be good enough for, and they looked at me like I was already guilty.Like the accusation was the verdict. Like, I did not even deserve a few seconds of doub

Dahlia's POVLater that evening, Illara's condition worsened, and she coughed up blood.We were sitting by the fireplace, where she was telling me stories of what had happened in those years when she fled. Then she turned away from me mid-sentence and pressed a cloth to her mouth, and I heard the sound of it.When she brought the cloth down, the evidence was clear, and she folded it away, but I'd already seen it.Yes, she was ill; she did look pale, but I didn't think it was that bad."How long?" I said. “How long have you been ill?”She looked at me. "A while, but I'll be fine." She smiled through the pain."Illara." Don't judge me yet; I just met her. We'll get used to calling her "Mom" later."Six months," she said. "Perhaps seven. The healer is managing it."I didn't know what to do with that information, so I did the only thing I could think of, which was to slide from the chair to the floor in front of her and lift her foot into my lap. She made a sound of protest. I ignored it.

Petra's PovI was not cruel. I want that said plainly because I know how it looks from the outside—the woman who doesn't want the pregnant girl to stay, the one with the hard eyes and the harder opinions.I know what kind of story makes me tick. I have heard it told about women like me before, and I have noticed that the people who tell it are usually the ones who have never had to be responsible for keeping other people alive.I had been responsible for this settlement's stores, schedules, supply runs, and borders for six years. I had done this through two Alpha council raids and one winter that should have killed four of the children, and didn't because I had counted and planned and made decisions that no one else wanted to make.That was not cruelty. That was what survival looked like from the inside.The girl was a risk, a liability that would cost us not only our homes but also our lives.Not because of who she was—I had no particular feeling about her as a person. She was capabl