He looked angry when he held my hand and registered what I was going to do. "Not this time, Cynthia!" he grunted under his clenched jaw, "you wanted to be a whore of the Rogues? I’m going to make you that right now," he mumbled with determination, making me worried about his plans. "What---ouch!" I tried to speak, but his grasp against my wrist silenced me before I mustered the strength to speak again. "Atticus! Set me free," I cried, but he didn’t budge. He let go of my arm and grabbed my shoulders, pressing them firmly before ripping my shirt off my shoulder. I was so shocked that I couldn’t gulp for a second. "What are you doing?" I gasped anyway. "Don’t you fucking touch me," I warned him, but he wasn’t afraid of an omega like me. His hand coming into contact with my skin gave me an icy shiver that ran down my spine. "I will make sure everybody sees you for who you are," he grunted, "I gave you enough chances to stop, but you have crossed your boundary many times, and if I don’t stop you now---she will-------be very upset with me," the way he mentioned her, my eyes formed tears of betrayal. He was doing this for Rosalie? Was it because she was upset with the accusations I have placed on their names? That’s it? Is it all he needed to attack me? "You wanted to lead a prestigious life, where nobody would see your true, flawed self? How about I brand your wrist so everyone can glimpse your reality?" He whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I understood precisely what he meant. When an unmated partner marks your wrist, it signifies that they've caught you in a compromising situation with someone who isn't your mate, and they've marked you in anger to expose your behavior to everyone. This wrist mark applies to both genders. If only my wolf were with me, I would have marked both of his wrists. But at that moment, I was in serious trouble. This mark would only go away if I get married to someone quickly. "P-please, don't do it. My father and the neighbors w-will surely punish me," I continued to plead, even though he had already made up his mind. "They'll confine me to my home," I begged desperately. He gazed deeply into my eyes, his fingers firmly clasping my hand as he drew my wrist towards his lips. I struggled against his grip, but despite my best efforts, he persisted. His sharp teeth pierced my delicate wrist, causing me to cry out and jerk my head back in pain. I had never anticipated that the marking would be so agonizing. "Ahhhh!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, shutting my eyes tightly as he continued to suck my blood, marking me with humiliation. "What have you done?" I demanded once he finally withdrew. I sank to my knees, tears streaming down my face, clutching my wounded wrist. He wiped his mouth, breathing heavily, his anger palpable. "Now," he muttered darkly, "no one will desire you. The older man who saw you as a sweet, innocent girl will now see your true nature and forsake you." He gripped my face mercilessly as he spoke. I could only gaze at him through misty eyes. My father had been right; mates were wicked. "You've marked me with this humiliation, now release me," I demanded. Instead of wishing for death, I yearned to live. This situation wasn't my fault, and no one should dictate my suffering. "Release you? Not just yet. When your neighbors start to wonder why you haven't returned and begin to judge you--or rather, see you for who you truly are--I'll send you back. Your affluent suitor will be eager to part ways when he realizes you're not nearly as flawless as he believed," he said, a smirk on his face. I felt overwhelmed by his continuous mention of Mr. Holt. "What about you?" I quivered as I spoke, "Do you think this will bring you happiness? Does the suffering of your mate make you happy?" I was foolish to ask, for it was clear he didn't care about me one bit. "I'll let you go once I've accomplished my mission," he shrugged before heading towards the door and departing. That was the end of it. He had already subjected me to enough humiliation, yet he showed no sign of relenting. My father would begin to question my absence in a matter of hours, and I would return home to chaos. "I can't just sit here. If I don't leave now, my sister will suffer," I muttered through sobs, pushing myself to my feet. I banged on the door with renewed determination. "LET ME OUT!" I shouted and pounded on the door, ignoring the pain in my wrist from his mark. Atticus and a group of others entered the room with him, forcing me to step back and take a defensive stance near the entrance as heavy footsteps approached the room. The man protested to Atticus, whose jaw clenched and relaxed in response. "She's making too much noise," he complained. "Administer a higher dosage this time," he commanded the men, met with a confirming nod. I shook my head, desperately trying to halt their actions, but it was evident they had no intention of stopping. "Please, no," I pleaded once more. I despised every moment of the pain he was subjecting me to. Each passing second brought me closer to the wrath of my father. Two guards restrained me while another injected me with the drug. It all unfolded before Atticus. He observed as three men pinned down his mate and administered the injection, and he remained silent. In fact, he had ordered it himself. I wished someone, even my father, cared enough to intervene, but it seemed that would not be the case. It was evident that upon my return home, I would face even more humiliation. I couldn't comprehend why Atticus had done this to me. His actions wouldn't just upend my life but also turn my sister's existence into a living nightmare.