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2024-10-06 23:22:11Yasmin’s back slammed into the cold stone wall, her vision swimming as she tried to catch her breath. She barely had a moment to recover before she heard the laughter—a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the small dining hall. Her tormentors stood above her, their eyes alight with twisted delight.
"Wolfless and weak!" sneered a tall boy, his lips curling in disgust. He leaned closer, his voice dripping with scorn. "What good are you to anyone, Yasmin? You’re a burden to the pack." The others laughed, the sound harsh and piercing. Yasmin kept her gaze lowered, trying to keep her expression blank. She knew better than to respond. Words would only make it worse. "Look at her," another girl jeered, flinging her plate at Yasmin. It struck her arm, the sharp edge cutting into her skin as the leftover food splattered across her clothes. "Pathetic." More plates followed, one after the other, shattering against her as she tried to shield herself. The smell of stale food clung to her, the weight of it pulling her down. She wanted to fight back, to tell them to stop, but her voice felt trapped in her throat. "Enough," someone said after a while, the boredom evident in their tone. "Let’s go. She’s not even worth the effort." Yasmin barely registered the words before the kicks began—sharp and relentless, striking her ribs, her stomach, her back. She bit her lip, refusing to cry out, her fingers curling into the stone floor. Eventually, the blows stopped, and she heard the shuffle of feet as they walked away, their laughter fading into the distance. The silence that followed was deafening. Yasmin lay there, her body aching, her mind numb. She wanted to stay down, to close her eyes and let the darkness pull her under. But she couldn’t. She forced herself to move, to push herself up on trembling arms. Her fingers slipped on the greasy mess around her, her entire body protesting each movement. Slowly, painfully, she began cleaning up. She gathered the broken plates, her hands shaking as she picked up the shards, the jagged edges cutting into her palms. She moved mechanically, trying to block out the pain, the humiliation. When she finally managed to gather everything, she dragged herself to the kitchens, her steps slow and unsteady. The warmth of the room greeted her, a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to have settled into her bones. The chefs turned as she entered, their eyes widening in shock at the sight of her. "Oh, Yasmin," murmured Gretta, a middle-aged woman who had always been kind to her. She hurried over, her eyes filled with concern as she took in Yasmin’s bruised face, the food staining her clothes, the cuts on her hands. "What happened, dear?" Yasmin tried to smile, but it felt like a grimace. "I’m fine, Gretta," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... need to clean these." Gretta shook her head, her expression softening with sympathy. "Sit down, sweetheart. Let me take care of you." She guided Yasmin to a stool, her touch gentle as she helped her sit. Gretta pulled out a small jar of ointment, her fingers steady as she dabbed it on Yasmin’s face, the coolness easing some of the sting. "You shouldn’t have to endure this," Gretta said, her voice low, filled with a tenderness that made Yasmin’s chest tighten. "It’s not right, the way they treat you." Yasmin looked down, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back, but it was no use. The tears fell, and she quickly wiped at her eyes, embarrassed. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I don’t mean to be a burden." Gretta’s expression softened even more, and she shook her head. "You’re not a burden, Yasmin. You never were." She turned to the other chefs, her voice firm. "Mina, get some water. And you, Oliver, bring a cloth. We need to clean her up." The younger girl, Mina, hurried over with a cup of water, her eyes wide with sympathy. "Here, Yasmin," she said, handing it to her. "Drink. You look like you haven’t eaten all day." Yasmin took the cup with a shaky hand, the cool water soothing her dry throat. She drank slowly, her eyes closing for a moment as she let herself relax. Mina gave her a small, sad smile. "We’ll take care of the dishes, Yasmin. You need to rest." But Yasmin shook her head, her resolve hardening. "I can’t. I have to go back to work." She stood, her legs shaky beneath her, her body protesting every movement. Gretta frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You shouldn't be working in this state. Let us help you, just this once." "I have to," Yasmin insisted, her voice cracking. She couldn’t afford to lose her place, no matter how much she wanted to stay. She offered them a grateful smile, despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. "Thank you. For everything." Gretta sighed, her expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "If you need anything, you come to us, alright? We’re here for you, Yasmin." Yasmin nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She left the warmth of the kitchen, the kindness of the chefs a stark contrast to the cruelty she faced outside.Related chapters
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Latest chapter
To Be An Alpha's Thirty Six
Zaid led Zephyr through the side door of the shed, flipping on the light with a flick of his wrist. The space came alive as the overhead bulbs illuminated the dusty, warm wooden beams and walls. Shelves upon shelves lined the room, stacked high with wooden carvings, tools, and unfinished pieces. There were intricately carved animal figurines, hand-forged furniture, delicate picture frames, and even detailed sculptures of wolves, their faces frozen in mid-snarls. The smell of sawdust and fresh-cut wood filled the air, grounding everything in the comforting scent of craftsmanship.Zephyr’s eyes widened in awe as he slowly took in the room. His small hands instinctively reached out, his fingers itching to touch the polished surfaces of the creations. “Wow! Did you make all these?” His voice was a mixture of amazement and genuine curiosity.Zaid chuckled, a low rumble that made the room feel warmer. “Yes, I did. Every single one.” He paused, stepping aside to give Zephyr room to explore.
To Be An Alpha's Thirty Five
The silence at the dinner table was thick, pressing down like a weighted blanket over Yasmin as she tried to focus on the beautifully arranged plates and not the piercing gaze of Zaid’s mother across from her. Yasmin stole a glance at Zephyr, who was busy marveling at the feast set before him, oblivious to the tension she felt building around her."So," Zaid’s mother began, her tone smooth but sharp as she studied Yasmin, as if weighing every word before speaking. "Tell me about yourself. You don’t seem to carry a family name."Yasmin swallowed, caught off guard by the blunt question. “No, ma’am,” she answered softly, meeting the woman’s gaze with as much confidence as she could muster. “I don’t… have one.”Zaid’s mother tilted her head, her expression neither approving nor disapproving, merely curious. “Just Yasmin, then. And your origins?” she asked, folding her hands neatly as she leaned forward.“Yes,” Yasmin replied, taking a quick breath to steady herself. “I’m from the Moonbeam
To Be An Alpha's Thirty Four
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To Be An Alpha's Thirty Three
Zaid leaned against the stone wall of Crimson Academy, his sharp eyes scanning the grounds as children began to trickle out of the school in pairs and clusters. Parents waited along the sides, greeting their children with open arms, and some of the pack members who recognized him gave respectful nods, bowing their heads slightly in deference as they passed. After a moment, Zaid spotted Zephyr emerging from the school, his dark hair bouncing as he animatedly talked to two other boys. One of them, Zaid recognized immediately—it was Marla's son, whose laugh was as boisterous as his mother’s. Zaid couldn’t help but smile as he watched the easy camaraderie between the three boys, feeling a pang of pride. Zephyr caught sight of him then, and his whole face lit up. With a quick wave goodbye to his friends, he broke into a run, his small feet thumping against the ground as he crossed the courtyard toward Zaid. Zaid crouched down, a warm smile spreading across his face as he opened his arms
To Be An Alpha's Thirty Two
Zaid leaned over the cluttered table, his eyes sharp and focused on the files scattered around him. Various maps, reports, and plans lay in a disorderly array, but his mind was already piecing them together, analyzing every possible angle. Across from him, his Beta, Khal, had his arms folded, eyes narrowed as he studied the central map, occasionally throwing out ideas. His Gamma, Ren, paced back and forth, his voice punctuating the silence with suggestions.“What if we take a different approach here?” Ren pointed to a position on the map. “Maybe station an extra patrol at the eastern border. We’ve seen a lot more movement there.”Zaid considered this for a moment. “It’s a good point,” he muttered, tracing a line with his finger along the map. “But we’d need to draw resources from another area to make it work.” He glanced at Khal. “Thoughts?”Khal stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We could ease up the west boundary, bring two patrols over to cover that side. Haven’t seen activity over t
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Yasmin woke before her alarm, her mind already racing with thoughts of Zephyr’s first day. She padded quietly through the room, the soft morning light filtering through the windows as she headed to Zephyr’s room. Pushing open the door, she found him sitting on the edge of his bed, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he fumbled with the buttons on his crisp new uniform.She couldn’t help but smile as she moved closer, crouching down to fix his collar and smooth out the fabric of his shirt. “Look at you,” she murmured. “My little man, all grown up.”He grinned as she ruffled his hair. “Mom,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s just school. I’ll be fine.”“Just school,” she repeated, her smile widening. “But you're really excited to start this ‘just school.’"Zephyr’s face softened, a faint, proud smile tugging at his lips, though he quickly tried to hide it. “I guess…”Yasmin brushed a stray curl from his forehead, feeling a lump in her throat. “And besides, this uniform makes you look
To Be An Alpha's Thirty
As the last of the dishes were cleared away and the bustling dining hall began to quiet, Yasmin leaned back, content and full, her gaze drifting to where Zephyr was laughing with a group of children at a nearby table. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright, his happiness filling her with a profound, grateful warmth. She’d longed to see him like this, truly carefree.“Yasmin,” Zaid’s voice cut through her thoughts, gentle but commanding. She turned, meeting his thoughtful gaze. “I wanted to talk to you about Zephyr. I assume he's been receiving education?”Yasmin nodded. “Yes, just the basics—reading, a little arithmetic. Thistlethorn didn't offer much. And I know it’s not enough. I’ve been trying to teach him more, but…” She trailed off, unsure how to put into words the frustration and limitations she’d felt. “He deserves more.”Zaid’s expression softened. “I’ve seen his spirit. He’s hungry to learn, I can tell. And he should have the opportunity to grow—in every way.” He glanced ov
To Be An Alpha's Twenty Nine
Yasmin stirred awake, slowly peeling her eyes open as the softness of the bed cradled her in a comforting cocoon. She sighed deeply, feeling as if she’d slept for a lifetime. This bed had to be enchanted; nothing else could explain how utterly refreshed she felt. A smile tugged at her lips as she stretched, her gaze drifting to the window where she noticed the sky deepening into shades of twilight. With a soft groan, she reluctantly sat up, brushing her hair back and deciding it was time to find Zephyr. She padded out of her room and crossed the hall to his, only to find it empty. Her heart fluttered with a slight pang of worry, her motherly instincts already kicking in as she glanced up and down the corridor. He could be anywhere in this enormous house, and the thought of him wandering alone made her stomach twist. Yasmin took a steadying breath, reminding herself that this wasn’t a strange place—at least, not to Zaid. And Zaid was with him, so he was safe. Squaring her shoulders,
To Be An Alpha's Twenty Eight
The Crimson House was like stepping into a world Yasmin couldn’t have dreamed of. The entrance hall stretched on and on, its high, vaulted ceilings carved with images of wolves, stars, and ancient vines that twisted together in a mesmerizing pattern. Sunlight poured through enormous windows, casting a golden light across polished marble floors, and art lined the walls—paintings that told stories of the pack’s history, legends of battles, and serene landscapes of the northern forests. Portraits of former Alphas watched over the space, their faces resolute, capturing centuries of legacy and strength.Yasmin lingered near the entrance, feeling almost reluctant to move forward, her hand unconsciously tightening on the shoulder of her young son, Zephyr, who was wide-eyed with amazement. His mouth opened in a soft “wow,” and Yasmin couldn’t help but smile as she watched him take it all in. He looked so small against the vastness of the hall, yet his excitement filled her with a quiet streng
