Chosen by the Beast Alpha

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Lena’s POV

As my mind slowly clawed its way back from the dark, the first thing I felt was a gentle hand brushing across my forehead. When I finally managed to lift my heavy eyelids, I saw Luna Celeste sitting right beside the bed, those warm brown eyes of hers full of worry—like a mom watching over a hurt kid.

"My dear, does it still hurt?" Her voice was soft enough to float away, like she was afraid even speaking too loud would make things worse. Her fingers carefully avoided the bruises along my cheek, and that careful, trembling tenderness made my chest tighten.

I pushed myself up a little, expecting a stab of pain—but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it should’ve been. Celeste instantly steadied my shoulder, and I noticed her hand actually trembled. "The family doctor checked you again... He said you’re healing too fast. So fast he can’t even explain it."

A hint of confusion flickered in her eyes, followed by something that looked almost like hope. "Lena, this kind of recovery is unheard of for an omega. Last night your injuries looked awful..."

I touched my face. Yesterday it felt like it was on fire—now it was just a dull ache. Even I didn’t know what to make of it.

Suddenly Celeste gripped my hand, her expression lighting up like she’d just found a lifeline. "Maybe... maybe that’s why you could handle Dominic’s power! Lena, are you absolutely sure you’re an omega? What if you’re not a true omega wolf at all? What if—"

"I used to wonder that too," I cut her off with a bitter little smile, shaking my head. "But my wolf has never spoken to me. I’m already twenty, Luna. There’s almost no chance of a late awakening."

Right then, the door slammed open so hard the noise shot straight through me. Dominic marched in, and the second he stepped inside, the warmth in the room evaporated. His eyes skimmed over his mother first—sitting by my bedside like a shield—before landing on me.

Those gray eyes were icy, sharp, and full of mocking amusement. His lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

"Well, it looks like I didn’t even need to kick you out myself," he drawled, each word slicing into me like cold metal. "You’d get yourself beaten to death by the pack before I even lifted a finger. Where’d all that boldness from last night go? Thought you were determined to stay? Funny how fast a few female wolves knocked that out of you."

His words hit harder than any punch. My chest tightened painfully, and my eyes burned, but I forced myself not to cry—not in front of him.

Celeste shot up from her chair so fast it scraped against the floor. She was shaking, but it wasn’t from fear—she was furious. The fire in her eyes was enough to make even the air vibrate.

"Dominic!" Her voice cracked but didn’t break, sharp with outrage. "What are you saying?!"

She strode right up to him, and even though he towered over her, her presence didn’t falter. "As a husband, when your mate is hurt, the right thing—the basic thing—is to comfort her, protect her, and then deal with the ones who attacked her! Not stand here spitting the most vicious words at her when she’s already devastated!"

Dominic didn’t budge. If anything, he stepped closer, looking down at her with an even colder expression. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.

"Mother," he growled, voice low and threatening like something feral was pushing through, "I’m curious. Why are you suddenly showing this... excessive concern for a stranger omega? What exactly did she do to you? What trick did she use?"

Celeste’s whole body trembled—not with fear, but with anger that was about to boil over. She grabbed Dominic’s collar with both hands, standing on her toes just to reach him, but the force of her grip made him freeze.

"I’m protecting an innocent, kind-hearted girl!" Her voice rose, thick with emotion, tears gathering in her eyes. "I can’t stand by and watch my son turn into a heartless monster with no compassion left!"

Her voice shook, but her resolve didn’t. "If you still love your parents—if you don’t want that damned curse to consume what little humanity you have left—you’ll listen to me. Treat Lena well. Try to build a bond with her. Stop hurting her. Stop pushing her away."

Celeste finally loosened her fists after that burst of emotion, her shoulders trembling a little as she stared hard into Dominic’s eyes, like she was trying to dig out whatever was left of his conscience. Then she spun around and strode toward the door.

"I’m not going to stand here and watch you ruin yourself." She paused at the doorway, her back to him, voice cold and tired.

The door slammed behind her with a bone-deep thud, loud enough that the whole room seemed to shiver.

Silence crashed down right after. Even the air felt frozen.

Dominic didn’t move for a long second. His face darkened, storm-cloud heavy, like a bad squall was about to hit. Then he slowly turned toward me. His gray eyes swept over me like a spotlight, sharp and unforgiving, as if he could tear my soul open just by looking.

"What did you do to my mother?" He stalked closer to the bed, every step full of quiet threat, his voice as low and dangerous as a growl. "What trick did you pull to make her defend you like that?"

His accusation hit me like a slap. I forced my shaky body upright, meeting his glare. "If I really had some mind-bending magic, if I were some kind of witch with powers—do you honestly think I would’ve almost been beaten to death by a bunch of female wolves?"

My voice cracked with how hard I was trying to stay steady. Tears spilled before I could stop them. "I wouldn’t have had my ribs broken over and over by my own father! And I sure as hell wouldn’t have ended up here, treated like nothing but a breeding tool!"

Dominic’s expression shifted fast—shock first, then something tangled and unsure. Whatever he expected, it definitely wasn’t that.

"Your father..." His voice lost its sharp edge, turning tentative. "He was... that bad to you?"

A bitter laugh tore out of me. I scrubbed at my wet cheeks with the back of my hand, the motion almost angry. "Wow, what a fantastic question." I looked straight at him, the sarcasm practically dripping. "So you really thought I came here because I adore my dear father? You think he loved me so much he couldn’t bear to see me suffer?"

Dominic’s face fell completely then, like he finally realized how stupid that assumption sounded.

Old memories surged up all at once, flooding me, squeezing the air from my lungs. My hands started trembling again, but I refused to let him see any more of my weakness. I refused to let him close enough to touch the things I’d buried.

"I’m not planning on giving you a tour of my trauma," I said, forcing my voice to stay level. "I’m here to do my job. That’s it. I get it done, get paid, and I leave."

I turned my back to him. "I’m tired. I want to sleep. You can go."

He stayed there for a long moment. I could feel his stare, heavy and unreadable, resting on me. Then his footsteps slowly retreated, and the door clicked shut.

The second he was gone, the fear and the pain I’d been holding back crashed down on me. Exhaustion dragged me under fast, but instead of rest, the nightmares came.

I was eight again, back in that damp, dark basement. The cold stung my skin. My stepmother stood at the top of the stairs, a plate of scraps dangling from her hand, her eyes filled with pure spite.

"You filthy little brat," she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. "You don’t deserve even these leftovers."

I knelt on the freezing floor, my small body shaking from hunger. I hadn’t eaten in three days. My stomach twisted so hard it felt like a knife was turning inside me.

"Please...," I whispered, barely able to breathe, "I’m so hungry..."

My stepmother let out a mocking snort and walked over to the drain. Without even blinking, she dumped the whole plate of food straight down. The smell drifted through the air, sharp and tempting, and my stomach twisted so hard it felt like it was eating itself.

"You want it?" She pointed at the drain. "Then crawl in there and grab it."

I cried until my throat burned, my whole body sinking into despair. I thought I would starve to death in that dark, freezing basement. In the end, she casually tossed me a piece of moldy bread.

"Oh, right," she said with a poisonous smile, "you might actually be useful later. When you’re older, I can sell you to another pack and make a decent profit."

In the dream, I became that powerless little girl again, crying out, "Mom... why didn’t you take me away... why did you leave me here..."

Suddenly, a pair of warm, steady hands brushed across my forehead. That touch felt so real, so impossibly gentle. Then someone pressed a soft kiss to my tear-stained cheek—light as a feather, yet carrying a comfort I had never known.

Strangely, the nightmares began to fade. The darkness retreated, washed away by a quiet, glowing warmth. A safety I’d never known wrapped around me, like being held in an embrace that made everything feel safe.

My breathing slowed. My tense muscles loosened little by little, and my mind sank back into a peaceful, deep sleep.

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