Sold To The Lycan King

BRIELLE’S POV

Banished! Banished! Banished!

Brielle looked down at her tattered clothes, and those were the only unruly words she heard.

As she was led out of the pack house, she was dragged, propelled, scorned, and had objects thrown at her.

Brielle wandered past a few buildings and little cabins, watching as random elderly females and male pack members trooped hastily out of their tent, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in her helpless state.

She knew they were aware of what was going on, but the surprised expressions on some people's faces indicated that they were also curious about what was going on.

Tears streaming down her face, swiping roughly at her face, Brielle recalled the events of the past few hours.

Everything was like a scene from a movie, and she was still convinced that it was all a dream and that she would wake up sooner or later, but this was reality, and it was staring her down.

Barely a few hours ago her tyrant of a father, Cassius Warren, had kicked the bucket and was no longer in existence, as he had finally succumbed to the cold hands of death.

The house where he lived had been mysteriously attacked and burned to the ground by unknown invaders, and it was still a mystery to her how she had survived the ordeal.

Her father had died, leaving her alone in this cold, harsh world, not that he had made it any better while he was still alive.

Now, the pack members and the people her father had treated lowly therein, the vicious pack members who scorned and hated her, had chosen to loom their resentment and hostility on her at the slightest juncture.

She was supposed to be mourning her deceased father, but here she was, being dragged around the pack house like a pig.

With no one to defend or fight for her but herself, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, her face changing to one of pain and pity as she recoiled her arms around her torso.

Brielle sobbed in grief and distress as everyone around her scowled and made fun of her wobbly legs, unsteady figure, and mess of a body.

"Isn't she the solitary daughter of Cassius Warren, the wealthy crook?"

"Oh! Yeah! She's the buck. A lowlife Omega and a weakling! She should be killed too..."

"She's awfully a pushover! She is nothing..."

She could hear the vile things they were saying about her, and she struggled to say something, probably to beg or utter some words of plea, but her chapped lips were sore, and her throat stung so badly from her earlier whines.

Her strawberry-red hair was scattered across her face, and narrow shoulders, and the nagging cold had her shivering in pain and cold.

She was putting on a black smudged hoodie, which was supposed to protect her from the cold, but it did nothing of the sort.

Her black trouser, which matched her pale hoodie, was scratched, affecting her lap and knees.

Her feet were adorned by white floppy slippers, which no longer possessed that striking white shiny color, having been renovated and recolored with brown mud due to the heavy men dragging her around.

Was it her fault she was born into her family?

Was it her fault that a man known for his tyranny and beastliness was fated to be her father? All of these questions she asked herself as she sniffled, her hands wiping away at her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Or was it her choice to be a loner, someone without friends and relatives, and this was what gave the pack members enough morale to treat and dine her like garbage? She inquired once more, flipping her hair away from her face.

The only person she had in all her life, the well-known, notable, and affluent Cassius Warren, who was her father, was now dead, and she was now alone in this world.

She could hear the murmurs of the pack members, both young and old, cursing at her and thrashing her out like an unwanted guest.

She could hear the insults, laughter, and scorn directed at her.

Nonetheless, she accepted everything.

Brielle, surprisingly, was not stunned or outraged by these unexpected prosecutions.

The only thing she was wailing about, the only thing that broke her heart, was how unloved and undesirable she had felt her entire life.

Following her mother's death during childbirth, her father, the tyrannic ruler and Alpha of Wolfsbane pack had been her only relative.

The fact that her father was wealthy, renowned, and had everything at his disposal must have been a delight to her, as she was supposed to be content having such an eminent figure in her life who would uphold her through the ordeals she faced in the pack, and all that, but the opposite had been the case.

He was no less different than they were.

He had even named her Dolores, which meant "pain," after accusing her of murdering her mother.

He called her a weakling, a curse to his generation, and he had treated her worse than anyone else, and when he was still alive, she wondered if he was really her father, but he was...

She had his unusual red hair color and, by all appearances, the beauty of her mother, so she was without a doubt his daughter.

Another reason why he hated her and treated her like sh*t was because he beheld her a chagrin, and he despised her for being a pushover and coward.

She was so frail, he said, and she never acted like someone he had given birth to.

She wasn't very strong, and she didn't keep her position as the daughter of a highly reputable man.

Brielle miserably held up her orifices, her hoodie well on her face, as she raised her face forward to view the landscape of the land border.

The border that separated their pack from the other pack, and regardless of the wild yelling and profanity she was hearing from the pack members behind her, Brielle raised her eyebrows, confused as she had no idea what was happening again.

Yes, she had been expelled, but...

She noticed cars from a distance.

Brielle noticed an old van stationed near a sporty red car near the border. Then she noticed a few men standing by the vehicles, and straining her eyes even more, Brielle recognized one of the men in the crowd, and her mouth opened in shock because it couldn't be, but it was.

Blacko Shawn, her father's best friend, stood still from a distance, probably with a smirk.

A sharp gasp escaped her fragile pinkish lips, her eyelids dilated slightly, and she muttered slowly in disbelief, "No, no, it can't be."

However, it was...

BRIELLE’S POV

"Move, you bitch..." The hefty man, whose grip had been on her earlier, yelled in her ears and whimpering in pain at his tight grip on her arms; Brielle sniffled her tears again as they began to walk nearer to the border.

Close to where the vehicles were and were Mr. Shawn was standing with his men.

Her heart twinged slightly in relief as she spotted him, and she wasn't sure if she should be happy that he was there or not.

She had her eyes on him at first, but Mr. Shawn didn't seem to notice her as he conversed with one of the bulky men he had with him.

She should be happy, of course, Brielle thought, using her freed right hand to arrange her falling hair as she looked back at him, embarrassed and ashamed too.

Mr. Shawn would undoubtedly help her.

Yes, he would because he was one of her father's closest friends, and she could recall the times he'd come to the mansion to talk with her father.