The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

– MAYA

Hours earlier

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I kept blinking at the thin blade of moonlight spilling down from somewhere above, treating it like a clock. As if, if I stared long enough, it might tell me how many hours had passed since the fall.

I tried to draw in a deep breath and regretted it halfway through. A sharp pain tore through my chest, stealing the air from my lungs, as if breathing itself were a mistake. I didn’t know if it was a rib, my lung-something was wrong. Badly wrong. It felt like my body had cracked open from the inside and decided not to tell me where.

I pressed my forehead against the damp ground, the cold seeping into my skin, and stayed there, breathing in short, shallow pulls. Like an injured animal that knows the smallest movement could make everything worse.

“I don’t think I can last much longer,” I whispered.

My own voice came back to me in a weak, pitiful echo. As if even the pit was mocking me.

I’d already screamed. A lot. At first in anger. Then in pure panic. Later, just because the silence was worse. Somewhere along the way, my throat turned raw and my courage drained out along with my strength. Now all I could do was swallow the pain and taste dirt at the back of my mouth.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on something else. Anything. A smell. A sound. A memory that didn’t hurt. But even thinking hurt. What I wanted was one simple, almost shameful thing: I wanted to stop feeling.

That’s when it happened.

The sound of a door opening.

Not the sound of the pit. Not the forest above. This was different-closer. Like iron bars grinding, like a hinge finally giving

way.

I turned my face toward the darkness I couldn’t see into, trying to decide whether it was real or just my mind inventing escape routes to spare me.

Then the light came.

Not the sliver from above. This was dim and unsteady, like a small flame fighting the air. It moved closer, slowly, and the shadows on the walls shrank back as if reluctant. Two shapes appeared-first smudges, then people. One of them carried a lantern.

I blinked again, fast and frantic, as if my eyes could somehow fix what I was seeing.

“A… Atila…?” I tried to say his name, but what came out was a broken whimper, a sound that didn’t feel like mine. My throat burned as I swallowed, panic tangling with a hope I didn’t want to have.

They stopped near me. I saw boots. Pant legs. The flame sketching pieces of skin and fabric. I tried to lift my head, but my body answered with such a violent jolt of pain that darkness threatened to take me right there.

“Is she awake?” one voice asked.

“I think so,” the other replied-lower, careful. “But she’s badly hurt.”

I tried to process the words, string them together into meaning, but my head felt stuffed with cotton. Pain filled everything.

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5:15 pm P WMM.

Chapter 42

There was no room for logic-only for surviving, badly.

“Can you stand?” the softer voice asked, like it was a reasonable question.

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I laughed without sound, and the laugh turned into a tremor. My mouth moved, but whatever came out was nothing but air. I wasn’t even sure I’d answered.

The lantern tilted. Light brushed my face, and for a second I saw two pairs of eyes. I didn’t recognize them. Or maybe I did, and my brain refused to accept it to avoid breaking completely.

“No way,” the first voice said, impatient. “We’re going to have to… drag her.”

The word drag hit me like a warning. I tried to protest, but pain sliced through me mid-breath. Someone grabbed my arm, and the world blurred into shadow and glare. My skin scraped against something rough, my body screamed in protest, and flashes burst behind my eyes-like I was being pulled through an endless tunnel, from one darkness into another.

I couldn’t hold on.

The last thing I remember was the flame dancing farther away, shaking, and the feeling that pieces of me were being left behind.

Then nothing.

A heavy, complete blackout. Like someone had flipped a switch.

***

When I woke up, the sound of owls cut through me.

For one brief moment, I almost cried in relief. As if I were back somewhere safe. Somewhere with a bed that wasn’t stone.

I opened my eyes slowly and saw wood.

Planks on the ceiling. Planks on the walls. The smell of old smoke and dried herbs. I was lying on a thin mattress, a coarse blanket pulled over me. My whole body ached, but the pain had changed. It was duller, quieter-like something had been set back into place while I slept.

I groaned from exhaustion, irritation, fear, and carefully pushed myself upright. A sharp throb pulsed at my temple, and I pressed my hand there, gently, like I could keep my head from splitting apart.

“Where am I…?” I asked.

My voice came out hoarse and weak, like I hadn’t spoken in days.

I scanned the room slowly, forcing my mind to keep up with my eyes. A small wooden shack. Simple. Cramped. Barely furnished. A table scarred with knife marks. A bench against the wall. A narrow cabinet. Off to one side, an improvised kitchen-a small stove, a kettle releasing a thin line of steam, the smell of tea or coffee drifting through the air

It almost felt normal.

Almost.

My gaze dropped toward the door, and that’s when I saw them-heavy, worn men’s boots.

A man?

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Chapter 42

My stomach sank. I followed the wall with my eyes and then froze.

Knives

So many of them.

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A whole row hanging from hooks, different sizes, different shapes. Some long, some short, some curved-tools that looked well-used, familiar in someone’s hands.

What kind of person keeps this many knives in their house?

Cold rushed through my veins, and before I realized it, I was scrambling back onto the mattress, as if distance itself could protect me.

“Oh C-od.” I whispered to myself, because there was no one else to hear. “Okay, Maya. Think. Breathe. Don’t panic. Panic later.

That’s when I heard footsteps outside.

Slow. Coming closer.

My heart started pounding so loudly I was sure whoever stood on the other side of the door could hear it. I pushed myself up on instinct, ignoring the pain as my legs nearly buckled beneath me. I rushed to the wall of knives, fingers shaking, and grabbed one with a hooked blade.

Alright. Let’s do this,

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