Leah's POV
I couldn't answer. I didn’t know how to respond. My body betrayed me, growing wet under his touch.
Suddenly, he grew angry. He grasped my neck, squeezing hard. "I'm talking to you, you fucking slut."
"Sir... Please don’t do this to me..."
A sadistic glint ignited in his eyes. He rubbed my loins harder, lifting my waist and arching my back. Blood surged through my legs, and I realized, Did I just... feel my legs?
Just before I could climax, he abruptly stopped. He stood up straight, leaving me on the bed. For a brief moment, he did nothing but stare into my eyes.
I felt ashamed of my body's reaction and didn't dare move. Then, he walked away and returned with a sizzling hot iron bar.
Panic surged through me, and I screamed as he mounted on top of me. His weight pressed down, nearly breaking my ribs.
"What? Did you think I was going to fuck you?" His eyes gleamed with cruelty and disgust, matching the glowing iron bar.
Despair consumed me. I couldn’t speak.
He was maddened by my silence. Grabbing my hair, he hissed with icy sharpness, "Beg me to brand you."
"No... Sir... Please don’t..." I pleaded desperately. He slapped me across the cheek.
"Beg me, or I'll brand you inside out!" he roared hysterically.
Intimidated by his madness, I realized I had no choice but to surrender. He would tear me apart if I didn’t comply. I needed to survive.
I closed my eyes and, in a low, trembling voice, said, "Yes, Sir... Please... brand me..."
--
I awoke once more, my chest throbbing with excruciating pain. Gazing downward, I beheld the branded mark sprawled across my chest like a sinister, sprawling spider. At that instant, a wave of tremendous pain surged through me, as if a knife were mercilessly peeling off my skin layer by layer.
The morning breeze whispered through the open windows, caressing my damaged skin. To my astonishment, all the bruises and wounds had vanished. I scanned the room—empty. A flicker of relief washed over me, realizing the man who tortured me last night was absent.
What had transpired last night? Was it a nightmare? But the relentless agony emanating from the branded wound on my chest anchored me to the harsh reality—it wasn’t a dream. I must have blacked out during the branding. My last memory was the nauseating stench in the air—the smell of my own flesh burning.
Involuntarily, my thoughts trailed off. Had he...?! A peculiar sensation crept from the tips of my toes. I could feel the gentle breeze against my feet! I curled my toes—they moved! As I wrestled to gain control over my feet, the door creaked open.
Several maids entered, assisting me to sit upright. They meticulously cleaned the wound on my chest and dressed me. One girl, combing my hair, sensed my fear and murmured softly, attempting to soothe me.
“We're not going to hurt you. You're having breakfast with the Alpha.”
“Breakfast? But I can’t even move my arms...” I uttered weakly.
They responded with silence, drifting away. As the door closed behind them, I overheard snippets of their conversation.
“I don't see anything special about that woman. I can’t believe Alpha spent the night with her and did nothing. Now he's having breakfast with her. And did you notice? All her wounds are gone! It’s like she can heal herself!”
“Shut up, Dina.”
“The door is soundproof, idiot! She won’t hear us.”
Odd, I mused. The room was vast, and they were distant. How was I hearing them so clearly? Yet, relief trickled in, knowing nothing unspeakable happened between that dreadful man and me last night.
The door swung open again, and three soldiers marched in. One of them pushed a wheelchair. They gently transferred me into the chair and wheeled me to an opulent dining room.
“Stay here. Alpha will arrive shortly,” a soldier instructed before departing.
I surveyed the room, its opulent décor testament to exquisite taste. My eyes caught a mirror on the wall. It wasn’t far. A thought flickered - if I saw my reflection, would it trigger my memories?
Taking a deep breath, I focused on my arms. Slowly, a tingling sensation spread through them. My fingers twitched. Before I knew it, my arms lifted slightly and then fell back down. The surge of emotion overwhelmed me.
After repeating the motion several times, I finally regained control of my arms. Summoning all my strength, I maneuvered the wheelchair toward the wall. When I saw my reflection in the mirror, my heart nearly stopped.
The face staring back at me was unrecognizable. A profound sense of disorientation washed over me. Although my memories were shrouded in a fog, I instinctively knew the face in the mirror wasn’t mine.
Who is that woman?!
Why do I have her face?!
Where is my face?!
Overwhelmed by the revelation, I covered my eyes with trembling hands, desperately wishing it was all a nightmare. But as I removed my hands, the sight became even more horrifying.
Alpha Finn stood behind me, tall, dark, and ominously silent, his eyes fixed on me through the mirror.
"Ah!" I gasped, nearly tumbling out of the wheelchair. His strong hands clamped down on my shoulders, pressing me firmly back into the chair.
Panicked, I averted my gaze from the mirror.
"Look at yourself," he commanded, his voice a dangerous growl.
Reluctantly, I lifted my head and faced the reflection again. The woman in the mirror had dark, wavy raven-black hair and honey-colored eyes wide with terror. The nose, the lips, the eyebrows—everything felt alien.
"No... That... That's not my face..." My voice wavered, filled with dread. "I don't look like this... What happened to my face? What's going on? I..." My words trailed off into incoherent terror as I tried to roll away from the mirror.
Alpha Finn attempted to restrain me, but I couldn’t stop struggling. He sighed deeply, seized my arms, and yanked me up. Before I could comprehend what was happening, he tossed me onto the sofa.
I cried out in fear, attempting to push myself up, but he pinned me down with his knee. From a nearby medication box, he retrieved a syringe.
"Shush," he said, flicking the cap off the syringe. "Stay put."
"No... No... Don't! Don’t do that to me! I don't want it..." I screamed, thrashing in hysterical fear.
"I said stay put!" he roared, slapping me across the face.
The blow stunned me, silencing my protests but amplifying my terror.
Is he going to kill me?