The Alpha's Secret Luna Chapter 631: The Beauty That Was Forced to Bleed

Chapter 630: The Beauty That Was Forced to Bleed

Warning: This Chapter contains sensitive and distressing thes, including violence and the abuse of a minor.

Sophia blinked.

Her head turned slightly, confusion flickering across her face.

"My... hair?" she asked softly.

Her mother made a face as she continued combing through it, her expression one of clear distaste.

"Yes," she said. "It looks ridiculous. Imagine people seeing you with hair like this—they’ll be appalled and run away. It doesn’t suit you at all. It makes you even more ugly."

Sophia stared ahead, her mind struggling to catch up.

She didn’t like her hair. She couldn’t rember if she ever liked it at all. But ugly? Was it really ugly? She couldn’t understand why she felt hurt by the word. And would people actually run away from her if they saw her with hair like this?

Sothing inside her twisted faintly.

But she pushed it away. There was no point thinking about it. Her mother was right after all. She wanted the best for her. She did everything for her. There must be a reason her mother was speaking this way. Maybe sothing had happened, but Sophia couldn’t rember. But did it even matter if she rembered or not? Her mother was right after all. She was always right. Sophia knew that.

"I..." she hesitated briefly before nodding. "I’d like it to be like yours."

Her mother paused, just for a second.

Then she looked at Sophia, sothing unreadable passing through her gaze before a smile slowly spread across her lips.

"There," she said, her tone softening. "That’s better."

Her hand smoothed over Sophia’s head.

"You’re a good girl when you listen."

Sophia nodded again.

"Yes, mother."

"Black hair suits you better," her mother continued. "It’s more beautiful."

Sophia felt it again.

That small, sinking feeling in her chest.

It ca quietly, like a warning she couldn’t fully understand.

But she pushed it away again. It didn’t matter after all.

And she smiled at her mother instead. Her mother’s approval made her chest feel lighter.

From that day, things changed. It started with small signs, and Sophia felt a sense of déjà vu when it began, like she had experienced sothing like this before, but she didn’t want to rember. This specific feeling was more dominant than the other, and so she pushed it away—the one that made it seem she had experienced sothing like this before.

Products were brought in—creams, oils, sprays, strange mixtures that slled too sharp, too unfamiliar.

They were applied to her hair one after the other, her mother watching closely each ti, waiting for sothing—anything—that would give her the result she wanted.

So of them made Sophia’s scalp itch. Others burned. So made her scalp sensitive to touch.

There were tis Sophia flinched, her fingers twitching faintly at her sides, but she didn’t complain.

She didn’t say anything at all because this was for her. It was all for her sake.

Her mother had said so. This was all because her mother loved her. If not, Sophia wouldn’t have the opportunity to get the result she wanted, and so she coped even when she wanted to bolt. She stayed even when she wanted to run away. She kept quiet even when she wanted to scream because it was all for her sake. And she wanted this after all. She had been the one to ask her mother for it.

And so she endured everything. Every experint they tried on her hair until finally, after what felt like years but was only a few months, they found the one.

This one lasted more than the others. It worked perfectly, giving Sophia’s hair an unnatural black that didn’t really suit her, but months later, even after pouring water on her hair, the color didn’t recede. Her hair remained black.

Her mother seed pleased, very pleased with the result. Sophia noticed that.

She noticed the way her mother looked at her now, the faint approval in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.

And sothing inside her ward at that.

Even if it hurt.

Even if her scalp burned.

Even if—

She began to feel sick.

At first, it was small.

A slight dizziness. A heaviness in her limbs that hadn’t been there before.

Then it grew.

Her body weakened.

Her skin grew hotter.

Her head spun more often than not.

By the ti she realized sothing was truly wrong, she was already lying in bed again, her body refusing to cooperate no matter how much she tried to push through it.

But even then, her mother still ca—and not with concern, not really. She was more annoyed at the fact that after everything that had been done, Sophia still had the audacity to fall sick. It wasn’t Sophia’s fault that she reacted to whatever product had been used on her, but her mother didn’t care.

She didn’t look at Sophia with approval anymore, and most tis when she ca to visit Sophia, she always asked for one thing—sothing Sophia didn’t understand.

She asked for a vision. She asked what Sophia had seen recently, and each ti Sophia croaked out that she had not seen anything and that she did not understand, her mother would turn and leave with disgust on her face. Sophia wasn’t sure, but she knew she had done sothing to offend her mother again.

And so she tried to see sothing, anything to appease her mother. She prayed every night for sothing, and it wasn’t until a month later that she saw sothing—but sothing told her not to tell her mother, and her wolf agreed too.

Sotis her wolf spoke strangely, telling Sophia that there were things she had forgotten and asking if she would like to recall them, and each ti Sophia would insist that there was no need to rember, especially if she had already forgotten.

And months passed with no other vision except the one she had seen before—of her laughing with people under the snow, friendly eyes staring at her like they were family.