TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 73: THE ALPHA’S LESSON

VALORIA WILDEROSE

(THIS Chapter CONTAINS STRONG SCENES OF ABUSE)

I flinch at her words against my will, more from the fact that I’m being branded as some disrespectful child when all I’ve ever done was try to earn Father’s love.

I know I shouldn’t be bothered by it anymore, but there’s still that small subconscious part of me stuck in this house, refusing to die and wanting to defend my devotion to Father.

Forcing me to comply. I try to fight it.

"Azra— His ma-majesty ord-d-dered that I s-st-stay in."

"And his majesty’s words hold more value than that of your own father, who is the reason you’re even able to enjoy the benefits of being the King’s wife in the first place."

I flinch again, feeling myself being backed into a corner. I try to find more words to argue, but they fail me. I’m tongue-tied, weighed down by impossible guilt brainwashed into me.

"I-I... I j-ustt c-ca-can’t," I mumble under my breath. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

The three others in the back start chuckling, laughing at my words that turn more incomprehensible the more they push, sinking my confidence and sense of self-worth even lower.

"Sorry... it’s just hard to understand you with all that stuttering," one of the girls in the back mocks me openly, just as the maids used to before.

They often spoke without respect, as if I was even lesser than them too.

I bite my lips, that old familiar feeling trying to creep back in—but this time, something else flares up alongside it.

Anger.

Not at them, but at the audacity of being summoned like a dog when Azrael explicitly told me to stay put.

At being mocked by maids who wouldn’t dare breathe wrong in front of the King but think they can tear me apart the second he’s not looking.

At myself for even considering obeying Father’s "order" when I know exactly what awaits me in that office.

My hands ball into fists at my sides. Azrael’s words from this morning echo in my head—about standing up for myself, about showing some grit, about his threat to drag my family into his "playhouse" if I disappoint him again.

This is a test. I can feel it in my bones.

Do I crawl back into old patterns, or do I hold my ground?

My head lifts slightly, jaw tight.

"P-Please tell fa-f-father if h-he can w-w-wait a bit... I’ll c-come as s-s-soon as they g-ge-et back and—"

"Alpha Ottomar made it clear that it was not a request but an order," their leader cuts me off before I can finish.

Her hand reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the doorway by force.

"W-Wait!"

I struggle against her grip, trying to break free, but the other girls join in immediately—grasping onto me like vices until both my hands are pinned behind my back and I’m being dragged towards the office roughly like a sack of beans.

They snicker and laugh with each struggle, tugging me around as they please.

The anger I felt just seconds ago starts crumbling, replaced by something colder, heavier.

Fear.

The kind that’s been carved into me over years, the kind that no amount of defiance can fully shake.

Because I know where we’re going. I know who’s waiting.

I’m dragged towards Father’s office, my feet stumbling and scraping against the floor.

The servant standing guard outside pulls the door open the moment we’re spotted, and I’m taken into Father’s dimly lit office just like that.

The moment we enter, I see him sitting on his couch at the center of the room, away from his work desk. The leader of the four maids walks forward to whisper something to him, and he nods.

A signal that lets them drop me onto the floor roughly. And then they leave, slamming the door behind them.

I’m breathing hard on all fours, peeking through my messy downturned hair to look at him, trembling like a leaf in his presence.

All that fire, all that defiance I was trying so desperately to hold onto—gone. Buried beneath years of conditioning that kicks in the second I’m in his presence.

Compared to everyone—even Marcella with all her viciousness—he was always the most terrifying.

My sisters would use his name as threats to keep me in place, and it worked every single time.

Because what he did to me was always far worse than their bullying. Theirs was child’s play compared to what Father did to me over the years.

I fear him. A fear so great that it’s etched into my very being.

"Look at you," he snarls.

I flinch at the very sound of him speaking to me directly.

"Even covered in wealth, you look like complete filth. You disgust me."

Despite his harsh words, I know what comes next from me.

Right in front of him, while still on the floor, I bow, pressing my forehead against the floor with both hands stretched forward; I greet him.

"I greet the Alpha of Wilderose... Father—"

"Don’t call me that," he snaps, shutting me up quickly.

I hear his footsteps walking around me in circles next. I’m too scared to look up at him, maintaining my position in hopes that it pleases him enough to quell some of his anger.

"I hear you resisted coming here. After everything I’ve done for you, I never imagined you would pay back with ungratefulness, you pathetic wench. I gave you a roof over your head and fed you. I made you everything you are now, and this is how you repay me?!" he roars, shaking the four walls of the room we’re in.

I immediately regret thinking I could escape him with that stupid order from Eros.

His footsteps stop, and one foot presses down painfully on my hand. The pressure is enough to almost crack my bones, and it’s agonizing.

I bite my lips not to scream, holding on just long enough until it’s unbearable.

Until I’m sure it really will break.

"F-Father p-p-p-please."

"Shut up!" he yells again.

I flinch, trying to break free, only to be held back by my hand. Just when I think it can’t hurt more, it does.

More pressure is applied as he twists his foot right into it. More pain shoots through my entire body until I’m a sobbing mess, close to screaming and losing my mind from it.

"I-I-I’m sor-r-rry. I’m s-so-sorry. P-P-Please forg-g-give me. I’m-m-m sorry!"

I scream, and finally he lets go.

The force of pulling throws me back, and I’m sitting on the floor, clutching my bruised and battered hand in a silent sob.

"What did you say to His Majesty? Why is he here?"

"I d-d-don’t kn-know. H-He d-d-idn’t tell m-m-me," I sob, shaking my head slowly.

"You’re lying to me, Valoria. You already know I hate lies."

"I s-s-sw-swear I’m n-not. I swear. H-H-He never t-told me e-ev-even when I as-s-sked."

His features turn more serious, stalking closer to me even while I back away from him.

"You’re even more useless than before." Vicious hands dig into my scalp and pull hard, sending ripples of pain to my skull and brain.

This time I scream, unable to endure anymore. It’s been so long without being kicked around that I’m no longer able to bear the usual amounts from Father again.

So the more I react, the more he inflicts in response.

"I-I’m so-r-rry, I’ll do be-be-better. Pl-P-Please forg-give me!" I say everything I know he likes to hear, hoping it will be enough for my incapability.

"You can’t, Valoria. You’re incapable of doing anything good. Your mere existence is a sin committed by your whore of a mother. Loving her wasn’t enough the same way forgiveness isn’t enough for you."

"P-P-Please fa-fa-father. Please mo-m-mother said sh-she wa-was inn-nocent."

"What do you know of innocent, you spawn of the devil?!"

I realize I shouldn’t have said those words when searing hatred stares right back at me.

He raises his other hand high enough in the air before crashing the center of his hard palm across my cheek and repeating the same thing in the same second with his back palm.

My head is thrown away from him, and the force of each blow forces me silent.

"You will speak to Azrael! You will convince him to put an end to his investigations! I don’t know how you will do it—even if you have to kill yourself doing it—but make sure it’s done. Do you understand?!"

I nod slowly, unable to utter a word with painfully swollen cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

"Good."

His hand finally lets go of my hair, and he pulls back.

I plop onto the floor like a floppy lifeless body, too sore to move or make a single sound.

Silent tears stream down my face while I watch him walk back to his couch and fall onto it, taking a sip of the hard liquor resting on the coffee table.

He sits and watches me with a detached gaze for a while before he speaks again.

"You know it’s not enough to make up for your sins. You know what needs to be done now, child—to atone for yourself and your mother." He speaks calmer now.

On cue, the doors open again. Two of the four maids from earlier walk in, packing up the pieces of myself scattered across his carpet.

"Take her away and lock her in the confinement room," he orders.