C6 Miss Valerie’s?

Valerie POV

“You’re bleeding,” a voice said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked down at my legs. Dark red streaks were winding their way down my skin, dripping onto the floor of the carriage. I tried to speak, but the words felt stuck. "Please... stop it," I whispered. I wanted to scream for help, but my voice wouldn't carry.

Around me, the other women scrambled around the small space, looking for a cloth or anything to stop the flow. I clutched my stomach, the dull ache inside turning into a sharp pain. My skin felt tight and itchy with sweat and dried blood, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to drown out the panicked whispers.

If I was going to die, I’d rather it be here than back at that house.

The carriage suddenly lurched to a halt, sending the women tumbling into one another. I pressed my shoulder against the wooden frame of the window and looked out.

A woman was walking toward the back of the carriage, her boots crunching on the gravel…

When the doors swung open, the world looked normal—birds were chirping in the trees and a light breeze moved the leaves—but we were still trapped in this wooden box.

The other women huddled in the corners, staring at the open door with wide, terrified eyes. None of them made a move to step out.

The woman at the door scanned our faces until her eyes locked on mine. She pointed a finger. "You."

"Me?" I asked, pointing a hand at my chest.

She didn't answer with words. She just smirked and stepped aside to make room for two broad-shouldered men. They looked at me with the same expression I’d seen my whole life—disgust.

"Take her," the woman ordered.

Before I could protest, one of the men stepped forward and hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of grain. I tried to kick, to hit his back, but my limbs felt heavy and numb. I gave up and let my head hang, watching the ground move beneath us.

We passed through the gates of a massive palace. Maids in clean uniforms scurried past, keeping their heads down, while gardeners paused their work to watch us pass.

They carried me into a hallway that felt like a tunnel. It was pitch black, and the air was cooler here, smelling of damp stone. We stopped in front of a heavy black door.

The man dropped me onto the floor, and I winced as my hip hit the hard surface. He pressed a button on the wall, and the door slid open with a hiss.

The room inside smelled strongly of copper and antiseptic. The scent of blood always took me back to the day my stepmother found out I was pregnant. Now, six months along and bleeding in a stranger's palace, the memory felt sharper than ever.

They lifted me onto a bed. "Make sure she stays put," one of the men told a young maid standing in the corner. She nodded quickly, her hands trembling as she tucked them into her apron.

A nurse rushed in a moment later. She didn't waste time with small talk. She began examining me, her hands shaking slightly as she worked. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my lower back and let out a strangled scream. The nurse reached out and squeezed my hand, her eyes meeting mine with a flicker of genuine concern.

"It’s going to be okay," she said.

"Where am I?" I looked around the room. The furniture was high-end, and the architecture was nothing like my old pack. Everything felt too big, too cold.

"You're in the Alpha King’s palace," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She checked my pulse and then motioned for me to lift my gown. When she saw the blood coating my thighs, her eyebrows shot up. "How long has this been happening?"

"A few hours, maybe," I said.

She grabbed a tub of ointment and some clean wipes. As she began to clean the blood away, the sensation of her hands on my skin made my mind drift back to that night in the forest. I remembered the stranger’s broad shoulders and the way he’d touched me. It was wrong to miss it, but I did…

"Hello? Are you with me?" The nurse waved a hand in front of my face. I jerked back, nearly sliding off the bed. She let out a small, nervous laugh and helped me sit up.

The door opened again, and a man walked in. He didn't say a word as he approached the bed and reached for me. I tried to pull away, but he was too fast. He scooped me up, and I felt the fresh bandages on my legs pull against my skin.

He carried me into a grand hall where the sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows. Dozens of women stood in lines, their heads bowed. Most of them were barely dressed, shivering despite the heat of the sun.

"Batch B," the woman from the carriage called out. She clapped her hands, and a group of men began walking through the rows of women, inspecting them like livestock.

The first man reached me and stopped. He looked down at the swell of my stomach, then up at my face. He let out a loud, frustrated sigh and spat on the floor. "Who brought this one here?" he muttered before moving on to the next girl.

I tried to pull my hair forward to hide the birthmark on my face, but I could feel the other women staring at me. To them, I was just a waste of space, a mistake that shouldn't be there….and they weren’t wrong.

I watched the men drag women out of the line. Some screamed, others tried to run, but a single gunshot fired into the ceiling silenced the room. I closed my eyes, waiting for it to be over, hoping they would just throw me out.

Then, the heavy doors at the end of the hall creaked open. The entire room went silent.

The men stopped their inspections and stood at attention, folding their arms over their chests.

"The King has arrived," a guard shouted.

Everyone in the room dropped their heads. I was the only one who didn't. I kept my chin up, my eyes fixed on the man walking toward us. He didn't look at the other women. He walked straight to the front of the line and stopped directly in front of me.

He looked me over, his expression unreadable, then narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?"