Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 31: Boiled, Broken and Put in My Place

I sat stiff on the low velvet couch in Clara Lawson’s private quarters, sub-level three. The red dress clung to me like a second skin, mid-thigh, split so high the entire left leg flashed every time I breathed. Simon had spent two straight hours snarling about it upstairs.

"That dress makes you look like a whore, Irene. Change."

"I’m not wearing it for you."

"You’re my wife. You’ll embarrass me in front of my mother."

"I said I’m not wearing it for you."

He had grabbed my wrist, fingers digging in. "Take it off or I rip it off."

I had stared him dead in the eye. "Touch me and I scream this entire floor down. Let every wolf here smell how scared you are of your own mother seeing me like this."

He had let go. We came down in silence.

Now he sat beside me, thigh pressed to mine like he owned the space. I kept my legs crossed away from him, the split riding higher. He kept shooting side-glances at the exposed skin, jaw clenched.

The door opened.

Clara Lawson walked in first, dressed in perfect charcoal silk, hair twisted into a severe knot. Behind her came two girls: blonde hair, brown hair, both tall, both with the same flat predator eyes as their mother. The blonde wore black leather pants and a cropped white blouse. The brunette wore a tight black dress that left nothing to imagination. They moved like they’d rehearsed every step.

Simon shot to his feet. "Mother."

I stayed seated.

Clara’s gaze landed on me and lit up like fire catching dry wood.

"Irene!" She opened her arms but didn’t move to hug me. "Finally. Welcome to the family, darling."

She gestured to the girls. "My daughters. Sable." The blonde gave a slow finger-wave, lips curled in something that wasn’t a smile. "Sapphire." The brunette copied the wave, eyes raking over my dress like she was pricing meat.

I didn’t wave back.

Clara clapped once. A servant appeared instantly with a silver tray: coffee, tiny cups, sugar I wouldn’t touch. She poured for me herself.

I took the cup. "I have rules."

Clara’s brows lifted, amused. "Do tell."

"One. Your son does not claim authority over me. Two. He does not touch me. Three. He does not breathe near me unless I allow it."

Simon went rigid. "Irene—"

Clara’s smile widened, bright and sharp. "Of course, darling. Whatever makes you comfortable." She turned to Simon. "Leave us. Girl talk."

Simon hesitated, glanced at me, then at his mother. Whatever he saw in her face made him stand. "I’ll be outside."

The door shut.

The smile vanished from Clara’s face like someone flipped a switch. She leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and the room temperature dropped ten degrees.

"Girls," she said softly.

Sapphire moved first. She was behind me in a heartbeat, fist tangling in my hair, yanking my head back hard enough my spine bowed. Pain exploded across my scalp.

Sable was already at the side table, lifting the copper kettle that had been steaming since we arrived. She carried it one-handed, smirk wide.

I tried to stand. Sapphire slammed her knee into my back, forced me down. My knees hit the rug hard. She wrenched my head farther back until I stared at the ceiling.

Sable handed the kettle to Clara.

Clara stood, took it without hurry, and crouched in front of me.

"Look at me," she said.

Sapphire twisted my hair until tears stung my eyes. I met Clara’s gaze.

Clara tilted the kettle.

Boiling water poured straight onto my bare left thigh.

The scream tore out of me raw and animal. Skin blistered instantly, red blooming to white, pain so bright my vision sparked.

Sapphire ripped off her sock, balled it, shoved it deep into my mouth. The taste of sweat and leather choked me.

Clara kept pouring until the kettle was empty.

She set it aside neatly.

"That," she said, voice calm, "was for dressing like a whore in my house."

She rose, circled behind me.

"And this," she continued, "is for thinking you give rules in my territory."

Something thin and wire-strong looped around my throat (a garrote cord). Clara pulled.

Air cut off instantly. My hands flew up, clawing at the cord, nails scraping skin but finding no purchase. My lungs burned. Black dots swarmed the edges of my sight.

Clara leaned down, breath against my ear.

"Listen carefully, you filthy little murderer. These are my rules now. You are an omega wearing my son’s ring. You obey every word that leaves his mouth. When he says sit, you sit. When he says spread your legs, you spread them wide and you thank him for the honor."

She yanked harder. The room tilted.

"You are his wife. You will act like it. You will warm his bed, bear his pups, and smile while you do it. If I hear one more demand from your mouth, I will peel the skin from your body one strip at a time and feed it to the pups in training."

My chest convulsed, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. My fingers weakened, slipped from the cord.

Clara’s voice stayed soft, almost kind.

"Northern wolves do not tolerate disrespect. Especially not from Southern trash who killed an Alpha and thought they could crawl into our ranks."

She pulled tighter. The world narrowed to a pinhole.

"You are nothing here, Irene. Remember that."

My knees buckled. Sapphire let go of my hair. I sagged forward, only the cord keeping me upright.

Clara gave one final, vicious jerk.

Everything went black.

Pain woke me first.

A white-hot band circled my throat like someone was still pulling the garrote. Every swallow scraped raw flesh. My left thigh felt like it had been dipped in fire; the burn throbbed in time with my pulse, the skin tight and weeping under whatever Astrid had smeared on it.

I opened my eyes to dim lamplight and Astrid’s worried face hovering inches from mine.

"Gamma-Luna! Goddess, don’t move." Her hands fluttered over my shoulders, trying to press me back onto the pillows. "The doctor said—"

I shoved her off and sat up. The room spun once, then steadied. My voice came out a cracked whisper. "Where is he?"

"Gamma’s—" Astrid swallowed. "He’s in the closet changing. Please lie down. The doctor said your healing will be slow because you’re still ranked Omega in the pack bonds. You’re not fully Gamma-Luna until—"

I swung my legs off the bed. The burn on my thigh flared so violently I almost gagged, but I locked my knees and stood.

"Gamma-Luna, stop!"

I limped across the room, each step sending fresh fire up my leg. The closet door was half open. I slammed the door wide with my palm.

Simon stood there in nothing but black boxer briefs, one leg halfway into jeans. He looked up, startled, then grinned like a pup who’d been caught stealing meat.

"Well, well. Changed your mind about that ’no nakedness’ rule, wife?"

I didn’t smile. "You knew."

He paused, jeans still only on one leg. "Knew what?"

"Don’t." My ruined voice cracked harder. "Your mother. Your sisters. Boiling water. Garrote. You knew they were going to do it."

Simon sighed, finished pulling up his jeans, and zipped them slowly. "They were teaching you a lesson, Irene. You walked into Mother’s quarters dressed like a—"

"I was assaulted." The words scraped out like gravel. "I’m reporting them to the committee."

He laughed once, short and ugly. "You’re adorable. Mother chairs the committee. They’ll laugh you out of the room."

I took one limping step closer. "Then I’ll find another way. You and your family will pay for every drop they poured on me."

Simon’s amusement vanished. He closed the distance until I could smell the mint on his breath. "Get off your high horse, princess. That Alpha-daughter crown you used to wear? Gone. You’re an Omega who got pitied into a ring. That’s all the North sees." He tapped the burn on my thigh with two fingers; I flinched but didn’t step back. "Everything you say is a suggestion now. When I speak, you obey. Or next time Mother won’t stop at one kettle."

I stared at him until my eyes burned.

He leaned in, voice dropping. "As soon as the Alpha blesses our bond, we consummate. You’ll get on your knees, you’ll spread your legs, and you’ll give me pups like a good little breeder. That’s your future. Accept it."

Tears threatened, hot and furious. I swallowed them down until they choked me.

I turned to leave.

His hand shot out, fingers clamping my wrist. "Say you understand."

I looked at his hand, then at the faint white scar I’d given him years ago when we were still teenagers and he thought he could kiss me without asking. I leaned in until my cracked lips almost brushed his ear.

"I should have let Devon kill you when he wanted to."

I yanked free and walked out.

Astrid was by the bed, cheeks scarlet, eyes wide. She’d heard everything.

I didn’t care.

"Get up," I rasped. "Boutique. Dresses that cover me from neck to ankle. Nothing shows skin. Go."

She scrambled off the chair and fled.

I stood in the middle of the bedroom until the door clicked shut behind her, then I let the tears fall exactly three before I wiped them away.

Hours later the pack house was silent, halls empty, moonlight slicing silver bars across the marble floor. Simon slept sprawled on his back, mouth open, one arm flung possessively across my side of the bed even though I’d spent the evening as far from him as the mattress allowed.

I waited until his breathing went deep and even.

Then I slid out from under his arm, grabbed the black mid-thigh dress Astrid had reluctantly bought "just in case," and pulled it on. No underwear; the burn made fabric against it unbearable. I took the elevator keycard from the nightstand and walked barefoot into the hallway.

The corridors were tomb-quiet. Northern wolves kept strict hours; patrols changed at four, so three-thirty was the dead zone. I slipped into the elevator and hit the rooftop button.

The doors opened to cold wind and starlight.

I stepped out, let the doors close behind me, and walked to the edge.

The city sprawled below: empty streets, frost on the rooftops, the distant howl of a lone sentry miles away. The air tasted clean, sharp, like freedom I couldn’t have.

I closed my eyes and breathed it in anyway.

Then I spoke to the night, to the wind, to the ghost I still carried in every heartbeat.

"Devon."

The name left my lips raw.

"It’s worse than I imagined up here. They broke me today, poured boiling water on me like I was nothing. His mother did it, and he watched and smiled." My voice shook but I didn’t stop. "Some nights I think I deserve it. I put my claws in your throat. I watched the light leave your eyes. I walked away."

I gripped the railing until the metal bit my palms.

"I don’t regret saving my own life. But goddess help me, I miss you." A cracked laugh escaped. "I miss the way you looked at me like I was the only war you ever wanted to lose. I miss the way you fucked me like hating me was the same as worshipping me. I have dreams—wet, filthy dreams—where you pin me down and ruin me exactly how I beg you to. I wake up soaked and aching and he’s breathing next to me and I want to scream."

Tears froze on my lashes.

"I miss our game, Devon. The chase. The teeth. The blood. The way you’d growl ’mine’ like it was a threat and a prayer at the same time."

I opened my eyes and stared down at the dark drop.

"I’m surrounded by wolves who’d tear me apart for sport, and the only one I want is dead because of me."

A shiver crawled up my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Someone was watching.

I spun.

Nothing. Just shadows and moonlight and the low vibration of the city far below.

No footsteps. No scent on the wind.

But the feeling stayed, heavy between my shoulder blades, like eyes I couldn’t see were drinking me in.

I stood there a moment longer, chest heaving, waiting.

Still nothing.

I turned back to the edge, wrapped my arms around myself, and let the wind take the last of my words.

"Wherever you are... I still burn for you."

The rooftop stayed silent.

But I swear the darkness listened.