Sold to the Lycan king

BRIELLE’S POV

Banished! Banished! Banished!

Brielle looked down at her tattered clothes, and those were the only unruly words she heard.

As she was led out of the pack house, she was dragged, propelled, scorned, and had objects thrown at her.

Brielle wandered past a few buildings and little cabins, watching as random elderly females and male pack members trooped hastily out of their tent, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in her helpless state.

She knew they were aware of what was going on, but the surprised expressions on some people's faces indicated that they were also curious about what was going on.

Tears streaming down her face, swiping roughly at her face, Brielle recalled the events of the past few hours.

Everything was like a scene from a movie, and she was still convinced that it was all a dream and that she would wake up sooner or later, but this was reality, and it was staring her down.

Barely a few hours ago her tyrant of a father, Cassius Warren, had kicked the bucket and was no longer in existence, as he had finally succumbed to the cold hands of death.

The house where he lived had been mysteriously attacked and burned to the ground by unknown invaders, and it was still a mystery to her how she had survived the ordeal.

Her father had died, leaving her alone in this cold, harsh world, not that he had made it any better while he was still alive.

Now, the pack members and the people her father had treated lowly therein, the vicious pack members who scorned and hated her, had chosen to loom their resentment and hostility on her at the slightest juncture.

She was supposed to be mourning her deceased father, but here she was, being dragged around the pack house like a pig.

With no one to defend or fight for her but herself, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, her face changing to one of pain and pity as she recoiled her arms around her torso.

Brielle sobbed in grief and distress as everyone around her scowled and made fun of her wobbly legs, unsteady figure, and mess of a body.

"Isn't she the solitary daughter of Cassius Warren, the wealthy crook?"

"Oh! Yeah! She's the buck. A lowlife Omega and a weakling! She should be killed too..."

"She's awfully a pushover! She is nothing..."

She could hear the vile things they were saying about her, and she struggled to say something, probably to beg or utter some words of plea, but her chapped lips were sore, and her throat stung so badly from her earlier whines.

Her strawberry-red hair was scattered across her face, and narrow shoulders, and the nagging cold had her shivering in pain and cold.

She was putting on a black smudged hoodie, which was supposed to protect her from the cold, but it did nothing of the sort.

Her black trouser, which matched her pale hoodie, was scratched, affecting her lap and knees.

Her feet were adorned by white floppy slippers, which no longer possessed that striking white shiny color, having been renovated and recolored with brown mud due to the heavy men dragging her around.

Was it her fault she was born into her family?

Was it her fault that a man known for his tyranny and beastliness was fated to be her father? All of these questions she asked herself as she sniffled, her hands wiping away at her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably.