Cilla’s POV
When Ridian left the pack for ‘work issues’ that were not specified, I thought I would get to rest but worse times lay ahead for me. I was reassigned to the other members of Ridian’s immediate family.
The family was led by Elizabeth Jamison who had given birth to Ridian Jamison who was 28 years old, Brody Jamison, 26, Camilla Jamison, 24 and a ten year old Erica. The alpha may have been bad, but each of these people seemed to be worse. It was clear the apples did not fall far from the tree.
Elizabeth Jamison stood by, watching me as I scrubbed the floor for the umpteenth time. I had been cleaning the floor in her unit for over an hour. Her daughter kept running out to play in the mud and returning with dirty shoes which made the floor dirty. Even when I had passed that particular part, Elizabeth made me return and clean it all over again. She did not even bother scolding her spawn.
It was like she enjoyed seeing me suffering. How much bitterness did one have to have in order to enjoy something like that? Her behaviour made me realise why her son was the way he was. She had probably enabled his bad behaviour all his life which made him see no need in being a better person.
Eventually, I managed to walk out of that unit. I breathed a sigh of relief as I headed to the stairs. I had been happy that Ridian was gone but now I was starting to wonder if things would have been better with him. At least he put me through torturous situations which I only had to ignore, not participate in.
I was almost at the stairs when a door at the end of the hallway opened and someone walked out. Not wanting to be stopped by anyone, I rushed to the stairs and started to run down but a figure immediately appeared at the top.
“You.”
On hearing the voice, I stopped and turned in order to see who it was.
Brody Jamison.
He was as tall as his elder brother, and had the same big, well sculptured body with hard toned muscles everywhere. He had a hard jaw with light stubble around it and the look on his face was stern intimidating. He was wearing a tank top that showed off his rippled arms.
“Come here,” he said.
Without a word, I started walking up the stairs. When I was at the top, I bowed and looked at the floor, wondering what he wanted from me.
“Look at me while I speak to you,” he said.
I looked up and met his sharp gaze. I concluded he was purposely trying to intimidate me. What way to counter that than by acting like I was not intimidated. I looked directly into his eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Cilla Markle,” I said, defiantly.
He smiled, and his eyes lowered to scan the rest of my body which was annoying but not unbearable as I had a long big uniform and apron covering every part of my body. Seeing him appraising me like that did not make me happy but annoyed that I was being treated as an object.
“You’re one beautiful woman, Cilla Markle.” He said. “And you’re confident, despite your position in this pack. I like that. I like my whores confident. Follow me.”
He started walking towards the room he had come from, but I stayed rooted to my position. When he saw that I was not following, he stopped and turned.
“I’m not your whore and I will never be,” I said.
Immediately, he was by my side and had grabbed my upper arms. “Little woman. You’re in my house. I determine what you will be here. Now start moving or I will break these stupid legs.”
I pushed him away, but he barely moved. He was like a tree trunk, rooted to the ground.
“Break them,” I told him before turning to walk down the stairs. I grabbed my cleaning supplies and walked away.
“Dumas,” I heard him call out.
I knew that probably spelt trouble for me but I did not care. I had been beaten blue and black on my back several times, subjected to all kinds of pain. I did not think there was something I couldn’t deal with.
My punishment arrived before I reached the storage room. It was in form of a huge man who I assumed was Dumas. This man stopped right in front of me. In my shock, I froze. He grabbed the supplies from my hands and tossed them to the ground. I bent to pick them up, but I had barely touched any when he lifted my body and started walking out of the building. On the porch, he tossed my body to the ground.
“Ouch,” I yelled as my body hit the ground. Thankfully, there were no stones. It was all grass and soil. I helped myself up. “What was that for?”
“For disrespecting mr. Jamison,” he said as he climbed down the steps to the ground. I broke off into a run, going towards the gardens. He followed me. As he was much stronger and faster, I did not stand a chance against him. He caught me and slapped me across the face. Pain sunk deep into my facial muscles. I lunged forward to strike his hardened face but he caught my flabby arm with almost zero effort.
He chuckled. “Really?”
I tried to pry my arm off his grasp in vain. Eventually, I surrendered and he ordered me to walk in the direction of the slave quarters.
“Where are you taking me to?” I inquired. Thinking of the red room was giving me shivers. I thought I had survived receiving punishments in that awful place. Seems I was wrong. There was no escaping the red room once you were in Blackmoon pack.
I could feel my body going cold as I entered the room and saw all the familiar items and punishment points my body remembered quite clearly.
Dumas pushed me into the room. I staggered inside but managed to prevent my body from falling. He stormed in and grabbed the back of my neck, pushing me forward until we got to a metallic chair. He pushed me to sit on it and held me down. When I tried to resist, I received a few hard slaps.