Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride

Emilia’s POV

The whip traced my jawline, my cheekbone. I made myself meet Dorothy’s eyes.

"You think Sebastian won’t come after you?" My voice was hoarse but steady. "You think he won’t burn Frostridge to the ground when he finds out what you did to his Luna?"

For a second, just a second, doubt flickered across Dorothy’s face.

Then Linda burst out laughing. "Sebastian? You actually think he’d lift a finger for you? Emilia, you’re dreaming. After what you did, after you lied to him, he probably wants you dead himself. We’re doing him a favor."

"That’s right." Dorothy’s confidence came back. "If Sebastian knew we were punishing you for him, he’d probably thank us. We’re saving him the trouble."

My blood went cold. Not because I believed them. But because they might be right.

Sebastian hated me now. He’d made that clear. Would he even care if I disappeared?

"Emilia." Eve’s voice was weak but fierce. "Don’t listen to them. Don’t you dare give up."

"I’m not," I told her. "I’m just getting started."

"Alright, enough talk." Dorothy waved the whip, testing its weight. "I’ll make you a deal, Emilia. Kneel down. Bow to us three times. Apologize for everything you’ve done. Then we’ll let you go."

I looked her dead in the eye.

Then I spat blood right in her face.

"The one who should be kneeling is you," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "You want me to bow? Keep dreaming, Dorothy. I’d rather die."

Dorothy’s face went purple. "Tie her up!"

The rogues dragged me to a support beam and tied my hands above my head, the silver cuffs digging deeper into my wrists. I hung there like a piece of meat.

Dorothy raised the whip high.

The first strike landed across my shoulders. Fire tore through my back. I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste more blood, refusing to scream.

The second strike. The third. Each one worse than the last.

"Every lash," I told myself through the pain. "Every single one. I’ll pay them back for this."

My skin split open. Blood soaked through my shirt. But I kept my eyes open, kept counting.

Four. Five. Six.

Dorothy was panting now, her arm getting tired. Good. I hoped her shoulder cramped. I hoped she felt a fraction of this tomorrow.

"Madam Ryles." One of the rogues stepped forward, his face pale. "Just hit her body. Don’t touch her face."

Dorothy whirled on him. "What? You want her too? Is that it?"

"No." The rogue’s face was grim. "But if you scar her face for good, and her husband finds out... Alpha Sebastian Simons isn’t someone you want coming after you. Trust me."

Linda tugged Dorothy’s sleeve, whispering fast. Dorothy’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded.

"Fine. I know what I’m doing."

The whip came down again. And again. My chest, my sides, my legs. Everywhere the silver cuffs stopped me from blocking.

But I didn’t pass out. Didn’t give them that satisfaction either.

I just kept counting. Kept logging every injury, every humiliation.

They’d pay. Every last bit of it.

Finally, Dorothy threw the whip down, breathing hard. "Alright. I’m done. Let’s go."

She turned toward the door, Linda following. Then Dorothy stopped.

"What is it, Mom?"

"This little bitch is claustrophobic, isn’t she?"

My heart stopped.

Linda’s face lit up. "She is."

"Then we’re not finished." Dorothy turned to the rogues. "Lock her in the dark room on the right. Make sure the door’s secure."

"No." The word came out before I could stop it.

Dorothy’s smile was vicious. "Oh yes."

The rogues untied me from the beam. My legs gave out, but they just dragged me across the floor, leaving a trail of blood.

They opened a door to a room no bigger than a closet. No windows. No light. Just four walls and darkness.

They shoved me inside.

The door slammed. The lock clicked.

And the dark closed over me.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The walls pressed in. My chest went tight. My vision swam even though there was nothing to see.

"Emilia!" Eve’s voice cut through the panic. "Breathe. You have to breathe."

I gasped, my lungs burning. My hands scrabbled at the floor, looking for something, anything to hold onto.

"Stop it." I dug my nails into my palms, the pain cutting through the terror. "Stop. You’re not dying here."

I made myself sit up, even though every movement sent fresh pain through my body. Blood dripped from my wounds, warm and sticky.

The elevator. Sebastian had ridden that elevator with me, over and over.

"Just breathe," Sebastian had said, his voice gentle in a way I didn’t expect. "Look at me. Focus on my voice."

He’d helped me through it.

"Sebastian," I whispered into the dark. "I need you."

But he wasn’t coming. Why would he? He thought I’d betrayed him. He wanted nothing to do with me.

I was completely alone.

Tears slid down my cheeks, mixing with the blood. My body shook, pain and fear and exhaustion crashing over me.

But I didn’t break.

"Emilia Taylor," I said to myself, my voice echoing in the tiny space. "You are not going to die here. You’re going to survive this. You have to live, because every person who put you through this is still out there, still breathing. You’re going to get out. And when you do..."

I touched the cuts from Dorothy’s whip.

"When you do, they’ll regret ever laying a hand on you."

I thought of my mother. How she’d endured years of cruelty with her head held high. How she’d loved me fiercely even when she had nothing else. If she could see me like this, it would break her heart.

I couldn’t let her down. Couldn’t let the people who’d hurt us win.

"Eve," I said. "We’re getting out of here."

"Damn right we are," she growled back. "And then we’re making them pay."

I leaned back against the wall, saving my strength. The cuffs still burned against my wrists, but I could feel Eve stirring, waiting for the moment the silver came off.