The Alpha Became A Beggar After Putting Me To Cell
A lycan named Emily, terminally ill with LAS, endures six years of brutal torture in a private cell after being falsely accused of killing Damian's sister, Kathleen.
Once lovers, Damian spurns her, believing the lies, and subjects her to cruelty, unaware she shielded his sister's secret-Kathleen died by her own choice .
When Damian uncovers the truth,he crumbles. Stripped of his pack, fortune, and purpose, he becomes a crippled beggar by the shore.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
The pain in my wrist was sharp.
I looked up at Damian, his eyes blazing with the ferocity of a wolf backed into a bloodied den, and forced a bright, bitter smile.
"This is my reckoning? Kathleen's spirit has left the pack lands, and I'm still drawing breath, aren't I?"
His face darkened, rage igniting in his eyes like a wildfire tearing through dry pines.
He lunged, his hand clamping around my throat-thumb pressing on the pulse point that marked me as a lycan, squeezing so hard the wolf in me whined.
My face paled. Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable.
Just when I thought Damian would snuff out the last spark of my wolf spirit, he let go.
I collapsed like a gutted deer, coughing so hard my ribs screamed.
Through the blur of tears, I saw him crouch down, his voice cold as a blade sharpened on moonlit stone.
"I'll make you wish the elders had torn your wolf heart out the day you lied."
He reached for me again, but his hand froze midair, hesitating.
Then, in a flash, he grabbed my collar and yanked. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, and his voice exploded. "What the hell is this!?"
Beneath the fresh red marks from his grip, a deep, black-purple scar snaked across my throat, ugly and jarring.
I swallowed the metallic tang of blood, my trembling hand flying to cover the ragged scar that snaked across my throat-shaped like a wolf tra. They called it "the breaking," a ritual to crush the lycanthropy out of me.
Day after day, they'd loop a wolfsbane-soaked rope around my neck, hoist me until my toes barely touched the floor, their voices dripping with malice as they snarled,
"Bark it, Emily. You're a mongrel, a curse on the Wolfe line, unworthy of his alpha blood!" Each word was punctuated by a yank, the rope burning through my skin, my wolf spirit howling in agony as they tried to strangle it silent.
At first, I refused to croak that final insult, even if it meant my wolf heart gave out.
By the third year, I was hollowed out, parroting it like a broken pack call:
"Emily. is a vile, worthless she-wolf."
Damian's palm grazed the wolf-trap scar, and my body went rigid. Tears spilled, but my lips curled into a grin.
"You know how rogue packs play," I said, voice steady despite the way my claws itched to tear through my skin. "They crave the raw thrill of breaking a purebred-way more satisfying than anything your soft pack life offered."
His eyes flared, pupils slitting like a wolf about to strike.
He hauled me up, and hurled me onto a bed stuffed with moss.
His rage hung thick as musk, tearing at my clothes with the urgency of a male claiming his right.
I shuddered, forcing out words through chattering teeth.
"You think this is fair to Brielle?"
He laughed, cold and cruel. "You think you're worth her worry? She's carrying my pup. You're just a tool to burn off steam."
The words carrying my pup and tool hit me like a sledgehammer, freezing my blood. I shut my eyes, my heart ripping apart, and stopped fighting. No kisses, no tenderness-just his brutal, vengeful force, using me like he said. And through it all, his voice, low and vicious, kept demanding, "Is this how they choked you?"
It wasn't until dawn that he pulled away, not sparing me a glance. "Clean this up," he said, voice like ice. "Tonight, you're serving food."
He slammed the door behind him.
I came to later, my body trembling as I knelt on the floor, picking up the mess of torn fabric and bloodstains.
I dragged myself to the bathroom, my clothes in shreds-except for the top I'd clung to with everything I had. That one was still intact. I'd fought so hard to keep it on that it only made Damian angrier, his punishment even harsher.
You may also like
7.5
While packing up her cheating ex-boyfriend's belongings, Giselle found an encrypted black smartphone hidden beneath his old textbooks.
Curiosity made her guess the passcode, only to uncover a horrifying secret.
Her ex had been using stolen lingerie photos of her beautiful roommate to catfish a man named "Oero" out of $1.5 million.
And Oero wasn't just a gullible sugar daddy. He was Dereck Campos, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire known for making his enemies permanently disappear.
The phone suddenly buzzed in her hand with a terrifying message.
"Don't be late. You know what happens when I'm kept waiting."
Giselle's blood ran cold. The lethal trap had snapped shut.
If she showed up, Dereck would see she wasn't the blonde in the photos and kill her.
If she ignored him, his private security would hunt her down anyway.
Her ex had drained the offshore accounts and fled, leaving her as the ultimate scapegoat to face a monster's wrath.
She was just a broke engineering student on a full scholarship.
She hadn't taken a single cent of that dirty money. Why should she pay with her life for a deadly scam she knew nothing about?
But Giselle wasn't going to just curl up and wait to die.
Her analytical mind kicked into overdrive. She sent him a voice note faking a severe illness, and deliberately refused his massive cash transfer to play the proud victim.
She was going to outsmart the most dangerous predator in New York, one calculated lie at a time.
9.3
The first sign I was going to die wasn't the blizzard. It wasn't the bone-deep cold. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my life's work-our only guarantee of survival-to another woman.
"Kelsi was freezing," he said, as if I were being unreasonable. "You're the expert, you can handle it."
He then took my satellite phone, shoved me into a hastily dug snow pit, and left me to die.
His new girlfriend, Kelsi, appeared, wrapped snugly in my shimmering smart blanket. She smiled as she used my own ice axe to slash my suit, my last layer of protection against the storm.
"Stop being so dramatic," he told me, his voice full of contempt as I lay there freezing to death.
They thought they had taken everything. They thought they had won.
But they didn't know about the secret emergency beacon I had stitched into my sleeve. And with my last ounce of strength, I activated it.
9.8
My fiancé, Jameson Blair, married my twin sister today. For five years, I was a placeholder, a substitute for the woman he truly wanted, and I pretended not to know.
Today, she came back with a story of terminal cancer and a dying wish to marry him. It was a perfect lie, and he chose to believe it, shattering my world with three simple words: "She's Haleigh."
They left me on the sidewalk, an outcast from my own blood. My brothers, who once promised to protect me, celebrated the woman who broke me. They moved my things to a guest room, making space for their prodigal sister. That night, Haleigh gave me a "welcome home" gift—a box with a brown recluse spider inside.
As the venom coursed through me, my family rushed to her side, calling my agony "a little spider bite." They left me convulsing on the floor. Later, they whipped me for a crime I didn't commit, hung me off a cliff, and left me for dead.
My body is a roadmap of their love. Each scar, each broken bone, is a testament to their betrayal. They believed her lies, but their real crime was never truly seeing me.
As I clung to that cliff, bleeding and broken, a single thought consumed me: Isabella Douglas died here tonight. Now, Isabella Hale would be born from the ashes.
7.9
Owen, the wealthy heir once said to be on his last legs, spent a fortune to marry Anna, a girl thought to lack wits.
Their social circle loved to joke that the pair made the "perfect" couple.
After the wedding, however, Owen's health quickly returned, and Anna shattered every rumor about her being simple-minded.
A powerful figure fiercely protected her, and a hacker group called her boss. The design world looked up to her, and assassins followed her word. Even the business world saw her as a force to be reckoned with.
They only realized then, Anna was no ordinary woman, and Owen truly adored her with all his heart forever.
Owen wrapped her in his arms, his gaze so tender it felt almost unbearable. "I've known all along. I chose to be the sword in your hand."
As her façade crumbled, Anna confessed, "I'm sorry for using you."
8.8
My father bailed a violent ex-con out of prison just to force me into a marriage with him. I stood in a filthy Bronx hallway, my Vera Wang gown dragging through the grime, knowing this was the price for my mother’s life. If I didn't marry the man behind the steel door, the wire transfer for her hospital ventilator wouldn't go through the next morning.
The man, a scarred giant named Dock, treated me with cold contempt, telling me he didn't touch things he didn't want—and he didn't want a "Jacobson." I thought I had hit rock bottom, tied to a criminal while my family lived in luxury. But the nightmare was just beginning.
When I tried to return my wedding dress to pay for rent, my sister Janie and stepmother found me. They laughed as security dragged me out of the boutique, calling me a "charity case." When I finally crawled back to our family manor to beg for the money my father had promised, Janie revealed the horrific truth. She had liquidated my mother’s medical trust to fund a waterfront real estate project.
"Get out and let your mother rot," she screamed, throwing a glass of ice water in my face before having guards dump me in the dirt. I knelt on the gravel, wet and bleeding, realizing my own flesh and blood had signed my mother's death warrant for a profit. I had nothing left—no money, no home, and a husband who was supposed to be a monster.
I didn't understand why they hated me so much, or how I would survive the night. But then, a black car screeched to a halt in front of me. Dock pulled me inside, his eyes burning with a lethal coldness I’d never seen in a common thug.
As he wiped the blood from my hands, he picked up a encrypted phone and gave a single command.
"Initiate Project Titan. I want the Jacobson Group insolvent by Friday."
I looked at the man I thought was a broke felon, realizing I hadn't just married a stranger—I had married the most dangerous man in the city, and he was about to burn my family's world to the ground.
8.3
Three years ago, I destroyed the man I loved to save his life.
Now I'm crashing Adrien's engagement party because my brother is missing, and my ex-husband is the only one with the power to find him. Adrien moved on and built a safe life with a woman who won't shatter his heart the way I did. His fiancée makes it clear I'm not welcome.
She's right. I'm the wife who vanished without explanation, leaving only a note saying I "couldn't handle marriage."
But the truth is darker. I didn't leave because I stopped loving him. I left because someone threatened to kill him if I stayed. For three years, I've lived in hiding while my stalker pulled the strings of my life, using my terror to control me.
I thought my sacrifice kept Adrien safe.
I was dead wrong.
Now the monster from my past is escalating his twisted game, and Adrien is in more danger than ever. Forced back into each other's lives, we must uncover a conspiracy that goes deeper than either of us imagined. But working together means risking the one thing I swore I would never gamble with "his life".