Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

My brain was grasping at any stray, trivial thought it could find, desperately constructing a dam to hold back the flood of humiliation and heartbreak.

A bitter thought crept in: I wonder if there’s a global contest for the most catastrophic First Mating Encounter? If so, I wanted my trophy and the prize money. I was absolutely certain no one could top the sheer disaster of tonight. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, a monster.

"So," Annie started, her voice breaking the silence, "how are things back at your parents’ house?"

I took a sharp, defensive gulp of the cocoa. The boiling liquid scorched my throat, and I erupted into a fit of coughing, choking on the rich sweetness.

When I finally caught my breath, the lie that slipped past my lips felt just as sickeningly sweet—so artificial it practically made my teeth ache.

"They’re fine... I was in such a rush to beat curfew that I accidentally left my bag in their foyer."

Annie narrowed her eyes. Her gaze was sharp, clinical, dissecting my expression like a silver scalpel. I averted my eyes immediately, staring intently into the dark depths of my mug.

I hated lying. Especially to her. But what was the alternative? What could I possibly say?

"Oh, the billionaire heir to the Rainn lineage picked me up, inspected my mating mark as if checking a cheap counterfeit, and then threw me out on the curb like trash?"

She wouldn’t believe it. Or worse—she would, and her fiercely protective best friend’s instincts would take over. By morning, the heir’s pristine luxury car would be defaced with a bucket of industrial paint.

Annie was far too idealistic, far too reckless when it came to the sacred laws of the bond, especially at current times. She despised disrespect and genuinely believed that fated matches were a divine gift of pure, unadulterated love.

It was a beautifully naive worldview, especially when one looked at the bleak reality of modern pack politics. Sure, the government heavily subsidized Omega Breeder births and offered free housing and transport to encourage fated couples to breed, trying to mask the system with a veneer of romance.

But the reality was a meat market.

I didn’t need a savior, anyway. I would save myself. Somehow.

I had learned the hard way how expensive other people’s kindness truly was. Nothing in this life—especially in a world governed by Alphas—comes free. And I simply didn’t have the currency to pay for the debts of pity.

Annie didn’t push. She simply nodded, took my empty mug, and set it on the desk. A quiet settled over the room—not a heavy, tense silence, but a cozy one, wrapping around us like the duvet on my shoulders.

Outside, the rain beat a steady rhythm against the windowsill. At the bottom of my mug, the remaining marshmallows melted into sticky, white islands. I stared at them, bitterly realizing that no matter how carefully you drink, the sweetest parts always cling to the bottom, leaving you with nothing but the faint, lingering bitterness of the cocoa.

***

The next morning, I circled the academy campus three times. I checked the hallways, the lecture halls, the parking lot. His sleek luxury car wasn’t there.

Maybe he’d driven a different one today? But with every step I took, that tiny flicker of hope died a little more. I was lucky I didn’t have the classes that required my stolen notes today, but they were scheduled for tomorrow. I needed to prepare, and I couldn’t. Not without my bag.

Rewriting the notes was one thing—buying a new bag was another entirely. Replacing it was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I was going to have to pick up another shift. Another job.

Gritting my teeth against the absolute dread pooling in my stomach, I called the bar. It was my absolute last resort, a place I had desperately tried to avoid a month ago when I was hunting for extra work.

But my schedule left me cornered. On my free days from the rabbit cafe, my academy lectures ran until seven in the evening. Nowhere else hired for such late hours. Only this bar. It was a nightmare scenario, but it was the only option on the table.

My other job, at least, was a sanctuary. A rabbit cafe—a little haven filled with warm, soft, fluffy balls of fur and twitching pink noses. They could coax a smile out of anyone, and honestly, spending hours cleaning up after them and serving tea felt like the best stress therapy in the world.

The owner, Rick, was an old friend. He ran a wildlife volunteer group I’d joined back in high school. When things got tough, he stepped up, hiring me and even adjusting the cafe shifts around my grueling academy schedule.

But adding a second job meant my free time would completely vanish, save for Sundays. And I wouldn’t touch my Sundays for anything, not even if I was down to my last cent. That day belonged to my volunteer work at the shelter.

I had prayed I’d be able to just corner Magnus today, demand my bag back, and wake up from this nightmare. But life had brutally disabused me of that illusion. Magnus Rainn hadn’t shown his face at the academy. I had no choices left.

My wallet, packed with my entire monthly wage, was sitting in his car. If I didn’t take this bar shift tonight, I wouldn’t even be able to afford groceries.

The absolute bastard.

Blood rushed to my cheeks, hot with fury and humiliation. He could have at least sent a pack driver to return my belongings. To make matters worse, the bar had a notorious theme-night policy. Every week, the management forced the waitstaff and bartenders into different costumes.

And this week’s theme? French maids. Of fucking course.

Burn in hell, Magnus Rainn. Burn in hell, and take the bar owner with you. Just give me my damn bag back first, and then you can go straight to the devils.