His Omega, His Punishment のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

Clara’s POVMy wrists burned, encased in cold, unforgiving iron. The shackles had chewed my skin raw, each new twitch a punishment. Panic picked me apart, breath shattering in my chest. I awoke not in the dungeons but in Taehyung Blackwood's lair—a room that stank of predatory cedar and cruel, crackling fire. Shadows writhed on the walls, never resting, always hungry.Chains anchored me to the carved bedpost, heavy enough that when I struggled, I felt every fiber of resistance twisting into bone-deep bruises. The flames spat light across the room—a hellish glow that made everything sharp, everything hostile.And there he was. Taehyung.Alpha. Monster. Devil in beautiful skin.He sat in the velvet armchair like a king at a pyre, eyes gleaming gold and red, the veins at his temple shuddering with rage. The world narrowed to that gaze—merciless, inhuman.“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was gravel ground in thunder, full of the promise of violence.He turned a gun in his hand, metal ca

Clara’s POV Later at night, I stood motionless, staring at the flickering cinnabar flames in the cold stone fireplace. The bed—massive, ancient, draped in black velvet—loomed at the room’s heart like an altar for sacrifice. Shadows shifted and thickened in the corners. I clutched my arms around myself, blood from my bit lip streaking my chin. “Take it off.” Taehyung’s voice slipped from the shadows. He leaned against the window, the last blue traces of dusk highlighting his silhouette—a carved black wolf with a demon’s eyes. Savagery lingered in every movement, every calculated absence of warmth. He stalked toward me, boots crackling over broken glass no one had bothered to sweep from the night before. “I said, take it off.” His gaze named me prey. My shaking hands reached for the buttons at my throat. The dress—lace and silk, heavy as guilt—fought me, catching on my trembling fingers. I struggled. Each snap and tear seemed to fill the room. My skin prickled with shame and vulner

Clara’s POV By the time the afternoon’s endless parade of false pleasantries ended, I was a hollow doll. I was a puppet, smiling when the strings were pulled, my face aching from the effort of feigning a calm I didn't feel. When the last of the pack had dispersed, their cold stares lingering on my back like physical touches, Taehyung’s fingers tightened on my arm. His grip was a silent warning, a possessive, bruising claim for all to see. He had not spoken a single kindness to me all day, and I knew he never would. The guards slammed the doors of my new chamber behind me, the sound a final, heavy clang of a lock being set. What had once been Lisa’s chamber was now my gilded cage. I was the new trinket on display, a prisoner in a room filled with another woman’s life. Lisa’s scent still clung to the pillows—a soft, floral note that was now a phantom. Her ribbons were draped over the mirror, a testament to her past life, and her journals were stacked neatly on the vanity. I wasn’t a

Taehyung’s POV The whiskey burned. That was the point. Let it sear my throat, fill my gut, dull the ache woven into my muscles since before dawn. I craved the burn. Welcomed it. The glass was heavy in my hand—heavier than the memory of last night, heavier than my own fists. The lounge was alive with shadows; all that laughter and light was just a mask for something cold and ugly. My men—the bravest, most ruthless sons of bitches the South had ever bred—lounged around, careless, drunk on the high of violence after last night’s hunt. Sometimes I forgot what fear smelled like on a man. Tonight, I remembered. I was on my third glass, maybe fourth. My head buzzed, but nothing took away the images. The blood. Her face. The way my mark looked on her throat, angry and red. She haunted even my moments of calm, that little beast. Clara. I closed my eyes for a split second—just to remember the sound she made when she cried out, when I sank my fangs into her fair skin. That sound did thing

Clara's POV I ran. Past the bodies—men bleeding into the rug, broken by the Alpha’s rage. I ran without dignity, feet bare, dress torn, my hands forever stained by the picture of violence he left in my mind. I could still hear Park’s scream, could still smell the gunpowder and blood. I reached my chamber and slammed the door behind me. My knees buckled. With shaking hands, I turned the lock. Inside the silence, the world collapsed. The walls felt too close. The air thick, heavy with dread and the taste of his mouth. I slumped to the floor, arms wrapped tight around my knees, sobbing, salt and fury trembling with every breath. How could he be so cruel? How could anyone kill so casually—over a careless word, an ugly laugh, a look? Was this the world I must rule in—share in—while the pack watched and judged and waited for me to fail? I pressed my face into my folded arms and wept—harder now, wild and unrestrained. Every tear cut my skin, and every breath hurt worse than the las