Rejected and Reclaimed-Mated to the Alpha KingChapter 1
Eighteenth birthdays aren’t supposed to be a shitshow. But in my case, it was.
“Give a round of applause to my little princess, everyone!” Everybody in the pack looked up at me with smiles and awe as soon as my father brought me to his little stage.
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Fiona!” Every single one of them hurled their birthday greetings to me. I should feel happy. I should feel thankful.
But deep down, I still feel lost. I feel like some pig to be slaughtered for festivities.
“Smile,” my father, Alpha Talon of the Nightshade Pack, ordered. I did it right away.
My father never smiled at me throughout the night. Not even once. These are all just a part of his duty as an Alpha. He's just compelled to do all of this. He never did anything with a heart when it concerned me.
He may sound gentle to everyone else, but he was never gentle to me.
“You’re a useless piece of shit!” I can still remember his words last night, echoing in every inch of my mind and in every fiber of my soul. The sound of his whip cracking in the air and landing on my back and the back of my thighs was an excruciating pain that I taste every time he’s drunk—even when he’s not drunk.
“Be useful tomorrow and dress nicely. Be like your sister, Fiona. Be like Amber tomorrow.” He still dared to gulp a glass of whiskey even when he was holding the silver-tipped whip on his other hand. “You know what happens when you disobey and displease me, don't you?” He caressed my hair, ignoring my whimpering. The relentless streaming of my raging tears made me just bite my lip and nod submissively.
“Yes, fa—I mean yes, Alpha.”
Fiona, Little Princess of Nightshade Pack. That’s his mocking nickname to me. Even my elder sister Amber calls me that ridiculous nickname.
I held up my chin high and smoothened the skirt of my bluish silver dress when everyone clapped. In the moonlight, I look as if the moon herself came down and beamed at everyone.
I was shining. I was beautiful. My friends always tell me that I'm lucky to have everything. If only they knew what happens behind closed doors. If only they bear witness to my day-to-day suffering or the still-fresh wounds etched in my moon-white skin, covered by thick layers of fabric to hide from everyone’s sight. My father made sure of that.