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Chapter 5 - CHAPTER 5

Chapter 5

Rosa's POV

The days blurred into weeks, and each one was worse than the last. Alpha Bryant made it clear—I was nothing but property. He used me like a tool and ordered me around like a shadow. Every word from him was cold, emotionless like his heart was carved from stone.

I scrubbed floors, cleaned wounds after his fights, served meals, endured insults, and pretended not to hear the whispers from others about "the slave girl."

But that night—

That cursed, freezing night—

I reached my limit.

"Dress her," the Alpha's voice commanded through the door. I heard it. I was behind it.

"Send her to my chambers."

The head maid walked in moments later holding a silky red dress I had never seen before. She didn't say a word. They just handed it to me and told me to change it.

I stared at the mirror after she left. My reflection looked like a stranger. My hair was brushed smooth. My lips had been tinted pink. The dress fit tightly, exposing too much of what I wanted to hide.

I didn't cry. Not anymore.

Instead, I reached for something else hidden in the drawer under my bed—

A dagger.

It was small, rusted, and stolen from the storeroom. But it would do.

I tucked it into my dress, just beneath my thigh.

I walked through the halls like a ghost. Silent. Controlled. Burning inside.

When I stepped into Bryant's room, he stood by the window with his back to me. He turned slowly at the sound of my steps.

His eyes scanned me from head to toe.

He didn't say a word.

I lowered my lashes, just as I'd seen other women do. I stepped forward lightly, seductively… just as the head maid had once taught the younger girls to please a man.

Bryant raised an eyebrow. "You're acting brave tonight."

I smiled. Not sweetly—carefully.

Calculated.

He stepped closer.

Closer.

His fingers brushed my shoulder, and I whispered softly, "Do you like what you see, Alpha?"

That was it.

The moment I needed.

With one quick move, I pulled out the dagger and aimed for his chest with all the strength I had left in me.

But he was faster. Much faster.

He caught my wrist mid-air, twisted it until I screamed, and the dagger clattered to the floor.

He pushed me backward, and I hit the wall hard, gasping for air. My heart was racing, my head pounding with pain and humiliation.

"You tried to kill me," he said coldly, looking down at the dagger on the floor.

I said nothing. I just stared at him, eyes burning with hate.

He stepped toward me slowly, like a predator walking up to foolish prey.

"What gave you the idea?" he asked, his voice flat. "That you had a chance?"

"I hate you," I spat. "You're a monster."

He chuckled slowly, shaking his head. "You think I don't know that?"

He turned away from me and picked up the dagger.

Then he looked over his shoulder.

"Clean yourself up. You won't be dying tonight."

Just when I thought he would walk out, his steps shifted course. He walked toward a corner of the room, to a table filled with old iron tools. My breath caught when I saw him reach for something—long, sharp… glowing red from heat.

A hot dagger.

"No," I whispered, stumbling back. "Don't…"

He walked back toward me, eyes burning with fury, no hesitation, no remorse.

"You think this is a game?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I spent five million yuan on a toy that would stab me in my sleep?"

I tried to move, but he grabbed me and shoved me down against the wooden bench beside the wall. My screams echoed through the room as he pulled the strap of my dress aside, exposing my upper shoulder.

"Let this remind you," he growled. "You belong to me."

And then—

The dagger touched my skin.

A searing, unbearable pain exploded through my body as the heat bit into my flesh. I screamed so loud, I thought my throat would tear open. My fists pounded the bench, tears streaming uncontrollably.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't stop.

Letter by letter, stroke by stroke, he branded his name to me.

BRYANT.

No sedative. No mercy. Just pain.

When he was done, he tossed the dagger aside and crouched before me.

"I don't want to see a trace of escape in your eyes again," he whispered. "Try anything foolish, and next time, I won't just burn you—I'll break you."

He stood and left me there, broken, sobbing, the name of my captor forever etched into my skin.

I wasn't just his prisoner anymore.

I was his mark.

Bryant's POV

I couldn't get my mind off what that useless maid of mine tried to do last night.

The image replayed in my head—her small, delicate hands gripping a dagger, her face twisted in hate. Did she really think she could kill me? Me?

I scoffed bitterly, leaning against the window of my study.

What does she think I am? Some weak Alpha she could seduce and stab like one of those pathetic lords in the lowlands?

The nerve.

No. She needed a reminder. And now—

Now my name is etched into her skin, and I hope it burns every time she breathes.

Still… something about the way she looked at me—

That defiance.

That fire.

Damn it.

I clenched my jaw and shoved the thought aside just as my beta, Kale, walked in without knocking.

"Alpha," he said with a respectful nod, but I could tell from his expression that he noticed I wasn't in the mood.

"What is it?" I muttered, turning away.

"You have a meeting in ten minutes... with your father."

I didn't answer right away. My eyes narrowed slightly.

That man again.

He only ever called for meetings when something serious—or something annoying—was on his mind. And nothing about that man was ever good news. Not since the day he pushed me into this throne with blood still drying on my hands.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.

"Fine," I said coldly. "Let's get it over with."

As Kale nodded and left.

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