Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 347: Even till Her Death

I caught my reflection in Amber’s dark pupils.

A twisted smile had spread across my face without me even noticing. Wide. Sharp. Almost manic.

"You’re insane," she hissed.

I tilted my head and smiled at her like we were sharing a joke. "Insane? Weren’t you the one who pushed me here, Amber? You dragged me into the blood feud between the Blackwells and the Morrigans. You built this entire nightmare and dropped me in the middle of it. Why? What did I ever do to deserve any of this?"

The words kept coming.

In my first life, I sank into years of darkness before dying like that. And even after death, I still didn’t get peace. My bones were broken. My skin was stripped. My body was torn apart until nothing of me was left whole.

I laughed, but tears spilled at the same time. They slid down my cheeks and dropped from my chin one by one.

I walked closer to her.

One step.

Then another.

Until there was no distance left between us.

"Do you know what death feels like?" I asked. My voice shook, not from fear but from the weight of it. "I was abandoned by the whole world. No one heard me. My family was right there, so close, but I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. I could only watch the people who destroyed me walk away free."

I stared straight into her eyes.

"And Whitney? She was only five when you took her. Five." My chest burned so hard I could barely breathe. "You tortured her. You crushed all the softness out of her. You scarred her soul. What gave you that right? We never harmed you. We never harmed anyone. So who gave you the power to decide who lives and who dies?"

I grabbed her hand and forced the knife back into it.

"If you want me dead so badly, then here I am," I said. "Do it. Kill me now."

I guided the blade to my chest, right over my heart.

"Go on," I whispered. "End it."

The knife slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a sharp clatter.

Then she shoved me away and stormed upstairs without another word.

Her back looked desperate.

Not powerful.

Not victorious.

Desperate.

Like someone fleeing a fight she had already lost.

Amber was cracking. Things had spun far beyond her control.

The moment she disappeared, all the strength drained out of me. I wiped my face hard, trying to get rid of the tears, then dropped onto the sofa.

I was exhausted.

Completely hollowed out.

But I had won.

I had gambled.

And I had won.

Thank God Lewis had uncovered the truth about her connection to him. Amber cared more about Lewis than she did about either of her own sons. Once again, even from a distance, Lewis had saved me.

At least now I knew one thing.

I had nothing left to fear from Amber.

Then I thought of Yael.

The way he’d been dragged away earlier.

I stood up and headed toward the basement.

A sharp crack split the air.

The sound of a whip striking flesh echoed through the hall.

The door downstairs was slightly open. I pushed it wider and froze.

Yael was crouched in the corner with his arms wrapped over his head.

For such a tall man, he looked painfully small.

Defeated.

He wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t even trying to move. Just like Vito earlier, he was taking it in silence. He could have avoided Amber’s thrown cup before. He could probably have dodged this too.

But he didn’t.

This family was a tragedy.

The mother was not a mother.

The sons were not allowed to be sons.

Yael’s white T-shirt had been torn open across the back. Beneath it, his skin was ripped and bleeding. The lashes had split the flesh in angry red lines. It was hard to look at. And still, he did nothing but curl in on himself and protect his head.

It pulled me back to the first time I saw him.

Curled under that tree.

Arms over his head.

Like this had always been his shape.

I stepped forward and looked at the man in black. "Haven’t you had enough?"

He didn’t even look at me.

He just raised the whip again.

I didn’t dare attack him blindly. Men like that didn’t hesitate, and I had no idea what else Amber had placed in this house. So instead, I dropped down beside Yael and wrapped my arms around him.

Just like I used to when we were children.

The man in black paused.

For a second, the room went completely still.

Then he lowered the whip, dropped it to the ground, and walked out without saying a word.

Yael turned his head toward me.

The look in his eyes nearly broke me.

"Elena," he whispered, and a fragile little light came into his face. "You came."

"Why didn’t you dodge?" I asked sharply.

His gaze drifted somewhere far away. "There’s no point. I can’t escape."

He wasn’t just talking about the beating.

He was talking about his whole life.

His bloodline. His bond to Amber. The invisible leash around his throat. No matter where he ran, he would still be her son. Some chains aren’t made of iron. Some are carried inside the body.

I stood and pulled him up. "Come on. Let’s get you out of here."

I helped him upstairs and led him back to his bedroom. He really had changed the sheets like he said he would. The bed was made up with brand-new bedding patterned with pink bunnies.

Even injured, he gave me a shy smile and bent down to pull out a pair of matching bunny slippers. "Elena, I prepared these for you. And a fresh towel too."

I stared at him for a second.

Then I said, "Where’s the first aid kit?"

His face brightened immediately. "Here."

He handed it to me with the eager expression of a child offering treasure. "Elena, are you going to treat me? I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. How did you get away? She didn’t hurt you, did she?"

I shook my head. "I’m fine."

Then he pulled off his shirt.

His back made my breath catch.

The wounds were awful. Fresh, torn, crossing over older places that somehow held no visible scars. The way he moved so normally told me this was not rare for him. Not new.

Then I remembered the ointment he used on me back on the island.

Scar cream.

Maybe it had always been his.

With injuries like this, his back should have been ruined by layers of old marks. But there were only fresh lashes.

How many times had he gone through this?

I kept my voice soft. "Does she hit you often?"

"When we were younger, it happened more," Yael said. "It’s not as bad now that we’re older."

Not as bad.

As if that was meant to make it better.

"Why does she hit you?"

A bitter smile touched his mouth. "Because she hates our father. And because Vito and I share his blood, she hates us even more. In her eyes, being born was already a sin. Every day we stay alive is one more day we have to pay for it."

I went still.

The Morrigans had hurt me, yes, but that had come through lies and manipulation. Somewhere inside all that, there had once been love.

Amber was different.

She had been breaking her sons since they were small and teaching them to call it justice.

No wonder Yael’s mind was full of strange knots.

I opened the first aid kit and started cleaning his wounds carefully. "Why don’t you leave her?"

"Leave?" His voice was quiet, but certain. "Elena, I’ve wanted my mother’s love for as long as I can remember. But every time she looks at me, all I see is disgust. She calls me a disgusting little monster. Says I should have died. Says I don’t deserve to live."

He turned his face slightly toward me. His eyes were wet now.

"Even then," he whispered, "I still want her love. My father died when I was young. If my mother doesn’t want me either, then I’ll have no one left in this world."

That was it.

That was the center of him.