A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

MARIA.

The last fragile ray of hope I’d been clinging to disappeared without so much as a warning.

Adrien’s hand struck my face with ruthless precision, snapping my head to the side. The impact rang through my skull, sharp and blinding. Heat exploded along my cheek, and I tasted blood instantly—thick, metallic, spreading across my tongue. It spilled from my lips, vivid and red, trailing slowly down my chin in a way that felt humiliatingly deliberate, as though even my pain needed to be displayed.

I barely had time to steady myself before he turned away.

Just like that.

His back faced me as he strode toward his brothers, his steps unhurried, his posture unburdened. The distance between us grew with every step he took, and for reasons I couldn’t name—reasons that made no sense—a sharp, painful tug pulled at my chest. It wasn’t physical. It hurt deeper than that, tight and suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs even as I stood there bleeding.

Rough hands closed around my arms.

The guards didn’t hesitate. They dragged me forward, my feet scraping uselessly against the ground as I was hauled away. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. My body felt heavy, numb in places and screaming in others, my mind struggling to keep up with the reality unfolding too fast to grasp.

We arrived at the pack’s arena.

The space loomed large and merciless, designed for judgment and spectacle. Suddenly, something shot into the sky—a loud crack followed by bursts of light, bright and blinding. Fireworks. Signals. Their sparks scattered across the darkening sky, and as they did, movement rippled through the area. Pack members began to stroll in from every direction, drawn by the announcement like moths to flame.

Within minutes, the arena filled.

Rows of seats were occupied, murmurs spreading like wildfire. Eyes found me quickly—curious, eager, hungry. I stood in the center, restrained, exposed, every scrape and bruise suddenly feeling magnified beneath their stares.

Then the Alphas arrived.

As one, the entire crowd rose to their feet and bowed deeply, reverence snapping into place like instinct. No one dared straighten until the four Alphas took their seats upon the throne. Only then did the crowd sit, silence falling thick and expectant.

My heart pounded.

The persecution began.

"I hereby persecute Rogue 456 for insulting and assaulting my sister, Anabel." Aidan thundered.

The voice rang across the arena, formal and cold, stripped of any trace of mercy. He paused, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath, as though steadying himself for what came next.

"This is to serve as a warning for all pack members and rogues present."

He turned briefly toward his brothers, an unspoken exchange passing between them, before facing the crowd once more. "A unanimous agreement has been reached," he declared. "She will be flogged fifty times."

The words landed like a blow.

A collective gasp swept through the arena. Some faces twisted with shock, others with grim satisfaction. A few stared at me with pity, eyes soft and conflicted. Others didn’t bother to hide their smiles.

I stood there, blood still drying on my lips, as the weight of my sentence settled in.

Fifty.

I closed my eyes.

For a brief, fragile second, there was nothing, no sound, no movement, no warning. Then the first lash landed.

It tore across my back with a sharp, vicious snap, the impact so sudden my body reacted before my mind could catch up. My skin felt like it was being ripped apart, peeled open by raw force. A scream clawed its way out of my throat, broken and unrestrained, as pain exploded through me in blinding waves. It wasn’t just pain, it was fire, white-hot and consuming, spreading outward until there was no part of me left untouched by it.

The second lash came.

Then another.

They didn’t pause long enough for me to breathe. Each strike split the air before crashing into my back, and with every hit, something inside me fractured further. I could feel my skin give way, feel warm wetness spreading as more sores opened, torn anew by each relentless blow. My knees buckled, my body jerking helplessly with every impact, muscles spasming as though they were trying to tear free from bone.

The pain became too heavy to carry.

It pressed down on me until my vision blurred, until the edges of the world warped and twisted. I couldn’t tell where one lash ended and the next began. Time dissolved into nothing but sound and agony, the crowd fading into a distant roar behind the ringing in my ears.

By the thirtieth lash, I was barely standing.

My breaths came out shallow and uneven, each one scraping my chest raw. Then, suddenly...

"Stop!" Aidan’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

The whip stilled.

For the first time since it began, silence followed. I sucked in a trembling breath, relief crashing over me so fast my legs almost gave out. A broken, shaky sigh slipped from my lips. At least one of them had shown mercy. I was so close to giving up, so close to letting the darkness take me completely.

Then his next words fell, exploding my nerve cells into pieces.

"I will continue the rest."

My heart dropped.

The relief shattered instantly, replaced by cold disbelief. I lifted my head weakly, just in time to see him rise from his throne. He descended with deliberate grace, each step measured, controlled, as though this was nothing more than a formality. When he reached me, he took the whip from the guard’s hand.

The first strike from him landed.

My entire body convulsed.

The force was unlike anything before it—heavier, deeper, carrying a power that tore straight through muscle and bone. Pain erupted violently, stealing the breath from my lungs. I choked, then spat, a mouthful of thick, black blood hitting the ground beneath me.

The second lash came without mercy.

It sent me crashing to the floor, my body folding under the impact. My head struck the ground hard, a sickening crack echoing in my skull. Stars burst behind my eyes, and for a terrifying moment, I was sure my head had split open.

The blows continued.

Each one dragged me closer to nothingness, my strength bleeding out with every strike. By the eighteenth whip from him, I couldn’t feel the ground beneath me anymore.

The world went dark.

And I surrendered to it.