The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 114: Trampled On

Esme found herself standing at the tall gates of Lennox’s domain, her expression a clear sign of her bewilderment.

Her fingers absently brushed the crescent moon pendant around her neck, wondering how she got here, and to her surprise, the pendant shimmered softly, catching her eye just as the clamor from within the palace grounds pulled her attention.

It was a cloudless day in Illyria, but then, the tall golden gates creaked open, and Esme’s entire body froze. Lennox, or rather, the younger version of him, dressed in royal attire, appeared on a striking white steed, his expression as cold and indifferent as the moonlight.

The horse he mounted on suddenly advanced forward, and Esme’s breath hitched at the sight trailing behind it.

Donovan’s hands were helplessly bound to the horse with a rope, his tattered clothes and body heavily caked in dirt and dried blood. His once silver hair had turned a dull, brownish hue, streaked with crimson at the tip, a haunting reminder of the violence he had endured.

He staggered behind the horse, looking utterly drained, as if every ounce of his strength had been depleted. It was a very sunny afternoon, so sunny to the point Esme could tell from some of the people’s reaction that the ground burned. Donovan wore no shoes, but he didn’t seem to mind the burn in his current situation.

With each tug of the reins, Donovan forced his legs to move, desperately avoiding being trampled on by the massive wolves trailing just behind him. They seemed to be eagerly waiting, anticipating a misstep so they could pounce and use him as a mere doormat, their growls sending shivers down his spine.

Behind him, the civilians of Illyria followed in a hateful mass, their voices expressing their fury and disdain.

"You killed our king! Die, you filthy demon! Go back to the hell you crawled out of!" they shouted, their insults cutting through the air as Donovan struggled onwards.

"You murdered your own mother, how evil can you be?! Disgusting!"

"You’re not a child – you’re the devil’s spawn! You should be burned alive! Leave this world!"

As the enraged crowd surged forward, their fury grew, and they began picking up stones of every size, hurling them without mercy at Donovan. Each jagged rock struck his body as he struggled to shield himself, but the horse pulling him onward offered no respite. He was then forced to endure the painful barrage, with every blow driving him closer to collapse.

Esme’s pupils dilated in horror, and she heard herself screaming at them to stop, to leave him alone, but her voice remained unheard. Eyeing the crowd, her panicked gaze fell on two of the royal councilmen of the land, having a hushed conversation between themselves.

"What of his brother? Shouldn’t he face the same fate?" asked one of the councilmen — who happened to be the same man Donovan had slain in the moonstone hall.

"We’ve scoured every corner for him, but he’s vanished without a trace," his companion replied grimly. "The guards tortured that demon until he finally confessed to murdering his brother. He’s far more vicious than we anticipated. He must be eliminated swiftly, before he wreaks anymore havoc."

"He killed his own brother?" his companion murmured at the information, his tone calculating. After a pause, he continued, "Since he has confessed to the murder, we can use it to our advantage. We shall tell all of Illyria that he consumed his brother’s flesh. That will only deepen society’s hatred for him. His kind are infamous for preying on human flesh thanks to his father, and with fear clouding their judgment, they will believe whatever we choose to tell them."

"But he never said he feasted on his brother’s corpse," the second councilman objected in a hushed voice, his tone laced with caution. "Such a reckless lie could provoke his curse, and we can’t afford to risk that. We still don’t even know if Alpha Damon from the Therondia pack will succeed in his plan to capture Zephyr. The realm literally lies upside down at this point with the war going on. For now, we should keep a low profile before taking any drastic step."

As they walked off to join the guards who marched at Lennox’s side, Esme’s mind reeled, her heart pounding with disbelief.

If what they were saying was true, then that could only mean that most of the accusations pinned on Donovan were fabricated, they had ostracized the whole thing to tarnish his name. The councils had manipulated the entire truth, counting on the people’s fear to turn against Donovan. She had once believed the lies herself, but now the weight of their deception crushed her. It had all been a lie.

Was Lennox a part of it too?

Esme couldn’t suppress the wave of guilt that washed over her. The insults hurled at Donovan grew relentless with each passing minute, and as she watched him struggle beneath the onslaught of stones and bricks, desperately trying to shield himself without stumbling, she understood the weight of his words — the memories he had spoken of that only grew darker with time.

How does he still manage to hold himself together after enduring something like this?

She knew all too well the grim nature of this punishment. It was reserved for those accused of murdering a member of the royal family. The condemned were paraded through all of Illyria, their hands bound to a horse. Should their strength eventually fail and they falter, the wolves behind them would trample their bodies, mercilessly crushing them until death finally claimed them.

Her heart tightened painfully as she watched him struggle. His disheveled hair obscured his face, and his body quivered from the fresh wounds that marred his skin, caused by the relentless barrage of stones.

She yearned to protect him, to throw herself in the way of the blows, but she was nothing more than a helpless phantom in his memories, unable to intervene.

Meanwhile, Lennox sat tall upon his horse, utterly unbothered by the cruelty unfolding before him. His golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction, which betrayed the dark pleasure he took in Donovan’s suffering.

Donovan’s legs eventually began to falter, his body teetering as exhaustion set in, but still forced himself to move. It seemed the sheer terror of being trampled was the only thing keeping him upright. Even though his eyes remained blindfolded, the torment etched on his face was undeniable, his pain laid bare for her to see.

Her heart plummeted when he finally collapsed, unable to bear the weight any longer. His hands, still bound to the horse, left his body dragging mercilessly along the rough, unforgiving ground. Esme wanted to scream, to beg for it to stop. She found herself wishing for death to claim him, if only to spare him from the unrelenting torment that wracked his body.

He never said a word, never uttered a sound, and the next minute, Esme’s heart dropped when a large paw, with its claw extended, slammed into Donovan’s frame, and the shock jolted her awake, her eyes immediately snapping open in alarm.

"Esme," a gentle nudge on her shoulder brought her back to the present, and she sat up to see Neville looking at her with a trace of concern. "Are you alright? Seemed like you were having a nightmare."

Disoriented, Esme looked around the room she was in only to realize she was still in the underground chamber with Neville. They had been working late on the poison, and after washing her hands, she had intended to rest briefly while Neville took over, only to be dragged back into that haunting vision.

"You’re... crying," Neville observed softly, his brow furrowing. "There are tears in your eyes."

Esme immediately touched her face and felt the dampness. She must have been weeping in her sleep when he woke her up.

"Was it a bad dream?" He asked, and for a moment, Esme struggled to find the right words.

"It was for me," she murmured. "But for someone else, it was real." She sniffled back her tears, her chest tight with emotions. She couldn’t be more glad that she woke up before the nightmare unraveled further.

Just as she was in the middle of gathering her thoughts, a knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. As it swung open, Donovan quietly stepped into the chamber, and there was just something odd about seeing him after that nightmare that it stirred emotions she couldn’t suppress.

Without thinking, she rose from her seat and crossed the room to meet him, and whatever he intended to say died on his lips when she threw herself into his arms.

His lips parted to ask the reason behind the sudden embrace, until he heard her quiet sobs.

"Esme?"