Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

His crass, blatant assumption knocked the wind straight out of my lungs. A hot, violent knot coiled tight in my chest. Anger. Pure, unadulterated fury.

"Am I only good for one thing in your eyes?" the words ripped past my teeth, my voice trembling no longer with fright, but with rage. "Maybe we actually share a fated bond, and we’re just waiting for my awakening! Not every Alpha throws himself at a breeder just to use her for a quick fuck."

"Only a complete moron would court an available Breeder without laying down a proper claim," he parried, a cold, predatory thrill flashing in his dark eyes. "And since your guy is clearly a waste of space, nothing’s stopping me from taking my turn."

"What about my opinion in all of this? I don’t want to go on a date with you!"

The sheer, suffocating arrogance of him made me want to scream. What a self-absorbed, brazen monster.

"Why not?" He took a step forward, forcing me backward until my spine slammed flush against the cold corridor wall.

Students parted around us like water around a boulder, though I could see out of the corner of my eye how many slowed their pace, shamelessly eavesdropping. A blaring internal siren warned me that half of them already had their phones out, ready to capture the disaster waiting to unfold.

"Because I don’t like you!"

With that, I spun on my heel and practically bolted down the hall toward my lecture room. My legs felt like lead, and blood roared deafeningly in my ears. The corridor, choked with students rushing to their blocks, stretched out like an endless tunnel of judgment.

The hum of voices, laughter, and fragmented sentences merged into a single, menacing wall of sound.

Please, Goddess, let nobody have taken a picture, I prayed frantically.

Gossip in this academy ran like wildfire, chewing through scandals for days. If a juicy story dropped, you became the unwilling star of a humiliating, week-long reality show. They would pick your reputation apart bone by bone, invent wild fabrications, and circulate cruel caricatures in student group chats.

I had already lived through that nightmare back in high school—right when my body began to shift and the dormant Breeder gene first surfaced. Back then, I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

I was tragically wrong.

I had no earthly idea how I was supposed to finish my shift, rush to a boutique, and find something vaguely acceptable to wear for a night out at a club with Magnus. One thing, however, was crystal clear: I had no choice but to do it.

Refuse him? The luxury of choice wasn’t something I possessed. It was a ghost, as ephemeral and weightless as the smoke curling from his cigarettes—visible for a fraction of a second, yet entirely intangible.

Rights were things granted to people who mattered. Everything had been stripped from me, right down to the illusion of self-determination, the moment the official registry stamped Breeder across my legal documents.

During the final hour before the cafe closed, I worked on pure autopilot. I guided the rabbits back into their enclosures, wiped down tables, and hauled out bags of trash.

My movements were sharp, mechanical, entirely devoid of soul. My spirit had retreated into the darkest, safest corner of my consciousness, trembling and bracing itself for the coming night. The universe had shrunk to the dimensions of the animal room—defined only by the soft rustling of bedding and the earthy scent of fresh hay.

With no evening visitors stopping by, the rest of the shift passed in quiet solitude. In the peaceful hush, broken only by the gentle gnawing of rabbit teeth, an old, recurring dream surfaced in my mind.

I had often toyed with the idea of asking Rick for a full-time position here once I graduated. A fragile, budding concept had been taking root in the back of my mind—something small that I would eventually have to fight for.

It would require capital, of course, but Rick was an established person; if he deemed my vision worthwhile, he had the political pull to secure state funding and grants for community support.

I had seen them before—parents bringing in kids whose eyes were far too weary and heavy for their small, delicate faces. Young Omegas, weak Gammas, unawakened Breeders, even humans from impoverished, working-class backgrounds. Souls carrying quiet, invisible scars. Fragile children, broken by relentless bullying in school, vibrating with chronic anxiety.

They would drop down onto the floor, pulling their knees to their chests, and soon enough, tiny, fluffy creatures would creep up to them, nuzzling them with damp little noses. And right then, a miracle happened. The ice in their eyes would melt away.

Clenched fists would slowly open just to gently stroke the silky fur. The thick, tense silence would fill with genuine peace instead of fear.

No one noticed it quite like I did. Because when I looked at those kids, I saw myself—today’s self, yesterday’s self, tomorrow’s self.

My passion for this idea wasn’t born out of cold calculation; it was as necessary as breathing.

All I ever wanted was a simple thing: to help people. To offer the kind of solid ground whose absence snaps your spine. I knew that feeling better than most—the sensation of sitting on a chair with one leg instead of four, balancing with a hollow smile, pretending everything was fine while your gut churned in absolute terror of the inevitable fall.

The second my shift ended, I threw on my hoodie and jeans and bolted out into the street. I had exactly one hour left before every shop in the district closed down for the night—one hour to find something vaguely acceptable.

Sprinting through the shopping center quickly devolved into a surreal survival quest. The definition of "acceptable" kept blurring and shifting.

I had no idea what the limit on Magnus’s card was, and the sheer horror of picking out an expensive dress, having it decline at the register, and blushing in humiliation while canceling the purchase made my stomach turn.

Even worse was the alternative: buying something too cheap for the great and powerful Alpha, earning a brutal punishment for daring to disgrace his name.