The Fox and the Alpha

{19}

I was getting sick and tired of waking up on the cell floors. I had no idea how long is been here, it seems every time I think it's been a day, in reality it's only been a few hours. The sun never reached my little square I'd grown to call home, and the guard they placed outside my bars practically killed me every night with my insistent questions.

"Is it still November? Or is it December? Why did the Cheeto Puff win president? Or even better, why don't you have a My Little Pony tramp stamp?"

I at least got a growl out of him with that one, my only source of entertainment in this god awful place. I was currently counting scars on my legs, but the doors above me opened once I hit 67. My head shot up, eyeing the bastard son and his father that trapped me down here.

The father had a gleam in his eye, and the son had his regular sneer that he gave me. I wasn't exactly sure which was worse.

"We have exciting news little Luna." He grinned greedily, clapping his small hands together.

"Don't fucking call me that." I growled.

He sighed, turning to nod at my guard. "Get the whip."

My eyes widened as I watched the guard walk into a small closet, before coming back and producing the silver whip that had grown to torment me. I rolled my eyes, my skin was constantly broken on my back and I stopped caring about the pain long ago.

"We're having a ball in your honor!" He spoke as he opened the gates, two more Rogues walking in to drag me out and make me assume my position on my knees. "All the surrounding packs that will give themselves up to us will be joining us, along with almost every Rogue under my reign."

"Oh goody." I muttered, earning me a hard hit on my legs. I hissed, blood blossoming onto my skin. "Getting real tired of this whip, douchebag."

"Get real tired of your mouth, little Luna." I chuckled until I got hit again, the skin on the back of my thighs opening up.

"If I'm supposed to be the Luna then why the hell am I getting hit?" I growled as another blow landed on me, my eyes squeezing shut.

Do not show weakness. Do not show weakness.

"I love to put your mate through pain. Plus, after we're done, who the hell will want you?" Another hit, except the guy actually got my back this time. I arched forward, my hair falling to cover my face. "You'll be covered in disgusting scars, no one will ever want you, except my son that is."

"Your son has his own goddamn mate that you killed." I shot up when he lifted me up by my neck, closing my airway. I tried to suck in as much breath as I could, but I could feel the bruise on my neck forming.

"You will be this packs Luna and that is final." He growled before throwing me onto the floor. I groaned when my head hurt he cement, lifting it to place my hand on the back of my head. When I pulled my hand away it was coated in blood, causing me to grimace and try to growl back at him. "Take her back to her cell, we'll bring her to the seamstress for her dress tomorrow."

***

The seamstress was an elderly lady with bird legs and a hook nose, and it seemed she rather enjoyed poking me with needles. I growled for what had to be the fifth time when her needles found there way into my thigh, but she didn't even react. She just continued to pin fabric on my body and pretend I never made a sound.

"You know I can bleed on you. It's good and everything, it'll ruin your precious fabric." She chuckled, leaning down and actually stabbing me with the damn thing. "Alright, that's it."