Rejected by the Alpha for a Fake Heir

Eleanor POV:

I made it to a motel on the outskirts. The room smelled of stale smoke and bad decisions.

*Eleanor.*

Liam’s voice invaded my mind. He was forcing the link open.

*Where are you? Sarah needs the herbal soup. The one you make.*

I laughed, a dry, cracking sound. *I am not your servant, Liam.*

*The Warriors are tracking you. Don't make them drag you back.*

Ten minutes later, the door was kicked in.

Two warriors—men I had grown up with—grabbed me. They weren't gentle.

They hauled me back to the estate. Not to the kitchen. To the tribunal.

Sarah sat in a wheelchair, her leg bandaged. The Elders sat in a semi-circle, looking like vultures waiting for a meal.

"Eleanor Vance," Elder Thomas intoned. "You are accused of attempted murder."

"What?" I blinked, disoriented.

"Sarah fell down the stairs," Liam said, his voice tight. He wouldn't look at me. "She says you pushed her."

"I wasn't even here!"

"We found your scent," Thomas said. "And Sarah saw you."

"She's lying!" I screamed.

"The punishment is death," Thomas declared.

"No," Liam interjected quickly. "No death."

"She harmed the heir, Alpha," Thomas countered. "Blood for blood."

"I said no!" Liam roared, his aura flaring. "She is still my mate. But... discipline is required."

"The Whip," his father suggested coldly.

Liam paled. He looked at me, then at the Elders. He was outnumbered. If he refused, they would demand a vote of no confidence. They would kill me.

"Fine," Liam whispered. "Five lashes. No more."

"Liam," I begged. "Don't."

He closed his eyes. "Proceed."

They dragged me to the courtyard. They stripped my shirt, exposing the scars from the bullet I took for him.

*Crack.*

The silver-tipped lash bit into my skin. It wasn't just pain; it was poison.

*Crack.*

I bit my lip until copper filled my mouth.

I looked up. Liam stood on the balcony. He was gripping the railing so hard the stone was crumbling. He was watching, but he wasn't stopping it.

*Crack.*

Darkness took me.