Contracted To The Alpha: The Last Breeder

A pawn in his hands

Ella’s POV

When he frowns and goes still in one place, I know I got him, I think l did it, l have shaken him.

My lips curl in a small, victorious smile. Of course, he didn't expect me to be bold enough to hold the scissors to my own throat. He didn't expect me to claim my worth out loud.

“Of course, I have power," | whisper, leaning forward, pressing the cold blade against my skin just enough to sting. "If you didn't need me, I would not even be here."

His eyes narrow as the silence stretches between, it’s suffocating and my heart is pounding so hard, but I don't look away.

This was supposed to work. He was supposed to finally see me as more than just a pawn and I can eventually have the power to do as I please.

His eyes do not blink, they go dark. . . And then, with a voice as cold as steel, he says “Go ahead then, kill yourself."

The smile drops from my face. I blink, and stunned. Surely, I have misheard him. . : Surely, he didn't just. . . My fingers tighten on the handle, but suddenly the scissors feel heavier.

"What?" | whisper, Cyril steps forward slowly, closing the space between us, as if he wasn't me to realize the position I am now in.

His hand closes around my wrist with a lot of strength. My breath hitches as he pushes the sharp part of the scissors harder against my neck. The cut of iron deepens until I feel a thin and hot line of blood down my throat,

I flinch against him, my body trembling in fear but his face doesn't change. He doesn't even show a flicker of care. His eyes are harsh and merciless as he leans closer, to me. “You are not that valuable, Omega" he murmurs. "If you die on me, I will simply find another Omega and that's another breeder who will throw herself at my feet. No big deal.”

The words gut me, I had thought this trick would earn his respect, that it would prove my life was worth something to him.

Instead, he proves the opposite-that in his world, I'm disposable, replaceable, and nothing, which is definitely no news to me.

My chest tightens so hard, I can't breathe. I want to scream at him, to curse him, but my throat locks. Then, just as suddenly, he lets go of my grip.

The scissors slip from my grip, falling to the floor with a loud clatter. The sound of the scissors echoes in the silence, mocking me for my failed rebellion.

A thin line of warmth trails down my skin, reminding me of the proof that shows how close I came to his madness.

Cyril steps back calmly, he looks untouchable, now as if my little rebellion hadn't even affected him one bit.

I press my fingers to the shallow cut on my neck, wincing at the sting of it and my hands shake. Damn! My whole body is shaking.

I'm still surprised, with the shock, threatening to swallow me whole.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

“Tell me, Ella. Where does this boldness come from? Why the f**k do you think you can come up to me being stubborn?”

The question jolts me. I expected more cruelty, maybe mocker, but not this. His eyes pin me, I am angry because he feels he can intimidate, and even more angry that my whole body is shaking because he is actually succeeding.

“Why does it matter?” My voice comes out quieter than I mean, but my chin lifts, daring him anyway.

“Because I want to know.” His tone is flat and emotionless. But I see that he is enjoying himself.

And for a long moment, I say nothing. I let him fret in silence. He thinks he owns me,

“If you are asking about my upbringing, well then, you might want to sit comfortably for this one” He tilted his head in question.

“Okay fine”

“I grew up like a shadow, Alpha Cyril,” I whispered. He looked at me, but I didn’t let myself stop. If I stopped, I wouldn’t start again.

“My sister. . . I have always been her shadow, she did everything right. She could cut my father’s most current log book and she would go about with a smile on her face still. She has everything she wants. She just needs to say it, she had silks, she has ribbons for her hair, and she only gets to wear the things she seemed used to or she simply just got tired of. I used to sit up at night sewing patches of clothes, which I want to use because I simply couldn't open my mouth to ask for another one. My fingers bled sometimes from the needle, but if I didn’t fix it, I would be slapped for being careless.”

My chest hurt, but the memories wouldn’t stop coming.

“Every morning, my foster mother reminded me I was lucky. ‘You are lucky we gave you a roof, Ella,’ she would say. ‘Lucky we didn’t leave you to the workhouse when your parents died.’ And I. I believed her. I thought I had to be grateful, even when my stomach hurt from hunger.”

I laughed a little, but it sounded broken. “Do you know what it feels like to sit on a table where you are expected to be thankful for the little things you get, when there is enough that ends up going your waste. To ask for butter, just once, and be told you should be thankful for bread at all? To watch her unwrap new dresses for her birthday while no one even remembered mine?”

I felt the sting of tears, but I blinked them away. I swallowed hard, the shame burning in me even after all these years. “And then all of a sudden, my sister is not able to conceive, they remember me, they started to treat me a bit nicer, so when your family speaks about me as though I am only here to give them children, as though that is my only worth… I can’t breathe, Alpha Cyril. I mean can you imagine them giving me the exact ribbon I have always asked for because they need my womb for you? I anticipated leaving, and going away before I was caught”

I could feel my throat tightening, but I forced myself to speak. I remember Hans again and how he had betrayed my trust for money, I feel hurt all over again, If I didn’t tell Cyril, he would never understand.

“There was a boy,” I whispered. My hands twisted in my lap. “I thought he was going to save me.”

Cyril’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t speak. He just waited for me to continue

“He told me he loved me, he showed me too” I went on, my voice breaking. “And I believed him, I loved him too, he was my only chance out of my family. He swore that if I held on just a little longer, we would leave together. Far away in a little cottage, he said. Somewhere no one knew us, and where I would be rid of my troubles, we could earn money to take care of ourselves.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “I believed him. I was foolish enough to think love could carry me away.”

My voice cracked, and I pressed my fingers hard against my lips before continuing.

“But betrayed me for money, Alpha. All the promises he made to me became an obvious lie. He sold my freedom to my parents and to

you.” My chest heaved, the memory burning.

I looked at Cyril, and I wanted him to see it in my eyes that he is the cause of all this. “The boy who swore he loved me couldn’t even look at me. He stood there silently while they dragged me away”

Cyril’s jaw clenched, but I pressed on, my words tumbling out now sharply.

“I thought he would be my escape. I thought I could finally be free. And when my foster parents dragged me here, when they shoved me into this situation, do you know what I felt? I didn’t feel like a bride. I felt like a prisoner being handed from one cage into another. My pain didn’t matter to them. My tears didn’t matter. All they cared about was what they gained.”

I swallowed hard, meeting his eyes even though mine were wet with tears. “The last man I trusted to save me betrayed me. He handed me over to the very people I wanted to run from. . . including you, Cyril.”

The silence that followed was so heavy it pressed against my chest.

By the time I finished, my throat burned and I couldn’t look at him. My hands trembled, my nails digging into my palms until they were hurting so badly.

The laugh that escapes me is sharp, and bitter, and I almost pity myself, but it is a laugh to keep from shattering in front of him. “That was the night I stopped believing in promises. So you see, I don't really have so much to lose now”

The silence stretched between us, and I half expected mockery, cold dismissal, and maybe even satisfaction. . . after all, I had just confessed how pitifully weak and foolish I had been all my life.

But when I finally dared to glance up to look at me, Alpha Cyril wasn’t looking at me mockingly.

He appeared to be clearly upset.

“What was his name?” he demands, his voice like a knife pressed to my skin again.

“What?” My lips part, then close.

“The boy who left you.” His hands curled into fists on the desk. “Tell me his name.” What is he talking about?

The sudden intensity in his gaze made me suddenly afraid. Did I say something wrong? I wanted to ask.

But instead, I shook my head quickly. “It doesn’t matter, he’s gone. He already chose his side.”

But the anger in him doesn’t seem to reduce. He stares at me like I have betrayed him, even though I know I owe him nothing. It stares at me as if even the thought of me once belonging to another man poisons him.

His fists curl, and his knuckles turn white, I have suddenly come so afraid of the change in atmosphere, and despite myself, despite everything. . .I feel the pull. I feel the dangerous and unfaithful ache in my chest that whispers I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but I do and that terrifies me the most.

He steps closer to me again, he is walking do slowly towards me, he stops in front of me, bending down enough that we are looking at each other. His voice is low and very deadly, deadlier than I have ever heard him speak.

“Tell me his name, Ella.”

“Why?” I dared to ask

“Because I hate betrayers myself, I might just help you punish him”

“No, he is not that important”

“Are you defending him because you still love him?” His voice is intense and if I didn't know better I would say he is jealous.

“All feelings I had for him died the night he betrayed me” I replied.

“Good! You would not mind if something happens to him then” I don't know how to reply, I don't even know if he is serious or playing with my emotions.