Chapter 70

“Sweep. The whole damn market.”
Their faces went blank.
“You—You’re joking,” The last boy stammered.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Luis Miguel’s mouth opened and closed, his brain clearly struggling to process the sheer audacity of what I was demanding.
“You—You can’t
“I can.” I smirked. “And I just did.”
“But
“Better start moving,” I interrupted, nodding toward the vendors around us. “Because something tells me if you don’t, these lovely people will be more than happy to help me make you.”
As if on signal, several of the market workers cracked their knuckles. One of them, a butcher with a cleaver the size of my forearm, gave them a chilling grin.
“Get to it, muchachos,” he said.
And they did. Oh, how they did.
They grabbed brooms with shaky hands, their faces filled with humiliation as they swept dirt and trash from the pathways, their fine clothes dusting up like they belonged to street beggars.
Well, if it was left to me, I’d say they did.
The whole market watched, people whispering, laughing, pointing. Some even threw coins at them like they were street performers.
Luis Miguel gritted his teeth. “This is ridiculous.”
I crouched beside him, patting his shoulder. “No. This is justice.”
“Why?” Gonzalo suddenly asked frustratedly. “Why the hell are you doing this?”
I stood, dusting off my hands. “Because you hurt my little sister.”
Oh, right. They must know they were beaten up and humiliated because of the one girl they dared to underestimate. Because of their stupidity.
Confusion blossomed across their faces as they glanced at each other like I was going insane. I mean, everyone knew the Alpha only had three kids. Me, Álvaro, and our little sister off in college.
“Your what?” Luis Miguel blurted out.
I tilted my head. “María José.”
Her name provoked total silence. The boys froze like they wouldn’t have expected that if they’d made a million guesses even.
I thought they’d fall on their knees in regret, but I got quite the opposite. Laughter.
They burst out laughing.
Luis Miguel doubled over, holding his ribs like I’d just told the best joke in the world. Patchy mustache wiped a tear from his eye and the last boy clutched his chest.
“For an Omega?!” Luis Miguel gasped between laughs. “You—You’re doing all this for an Omega?”
I felt something cold settle in my chest. They still didn’t get it, did they?
María José wasn’t just an ’Omega’. She was a person… a living being with rights. Rights that needed to be respected for fuck’s sake!
Patchy mustache, still chuckling, shook his head. “I should’ve known. You always were a little soft, señor, but this? This is embarrassing.”
“Yeah,” The last boy added, smirking. “What a waste of energy.”
I smiled.
Then I grabbed Luis Miguel by his collar for the umpteenth time and slammed him against the nearest fruit stall. Apples tumbled to the ground.
The laughter died instantly.
“You think it’s funny?” My voice was quiet now, dangerously so. “You think it’s hilarious that you tormented a girl for no reason? That you ruined her life for sport? That you dared to kiss her, to touch her and threaten her?!”
Luis Miguel swallowed hard. “Beta, I
“You know what I think is funny?” I arched closer to him, my breath hot against his skin. “That you still don’t understand just how badly you’ve fucked up.”
I let him go, yanking him off like a bloody piece of paper: He stumbled and his laughter was completely gone.
For every foul committed by his cronies, he’d suffer for it!
“Get back to work,” I said coldly.
And for once, Luis Miguel didn’t argue.
They swept like their lives depended on it. Which, in a way, they did. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ.net
Dirt clung to their clothes, turning the cheap linen into rags. Sweat matted their hair. Their shoes were caked in grime, scuffing against the cobblestone as they dragged brooms across the marketplace like prisoners on a chain gang.
The market thrived around them, buzzing with activity—and laughter. The people tossing coins at them as if they were beggars didn’t stop as well.
Luis Miguel with a face that was red with shame, caught a particularly large coin to the forehead. His eye twitched as it clattered onto the ground.
“Gracias, muchacho,” an old woman cackled, winking at him as she waddled away with her groceries.
One of the other boys muttered under his breath, “Esto es una pesadilla
I heard him and did he just call this a nightmare?
“What was that?”
“¡Nada!” He scrubbed the ground harder.
Good.
They had been sweeping for nearly an hour, and I wasn’t even close to being satisfied. Their arms quivered with exhaustion, their backs hunched from bending over so long, and their hands were now raw from gripping rough broom handles.
And then the complaining started.
“Beta, por favor,” Luis Miguel whined, dragging himself toward me like a man crawling through the desert. “We’re exhausted. We can’t keep going like this.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “You’re exhausted?”
The boys nodded frightfully, hopeful.
I crouched beside Luis Miguel and grabbed his broom, inspecting it. “So you’re telling me… that lifting this lightweight stick and pushing some dirt is too much for you?”
He blinked, sensing the trap. Yes?”
I let the broom drop. “Then it’s a miracle you have the strength to run through the streets tormenting people. Maybe I should take you to the Alpha and let him decide how weak you truly are.”
Their heads snapped up so fast I thought they’d get whiplash.
“N-no! No need for that!” Gonzalo stammered, gripping his broom like it was a lifeline. “We—we can keep sweeping! No problem!”
I smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
With groans of despair, they returned to their sweeping, dragging their feet like they were marching to their own executions.
And I enjoyed every second of it.
The only thing that was missing here was the presence of María José. I bet watching the losers who tormented her suffer would do a lot to elevate her mood.
But she couldn’t be here because her selfish father had grounded her. Anyway, I knew the kind of anger watching them do what they did to her felt like, so my satisfaction was as crucial.
As for María José, I’d make sure to leave her a little something. The pleasure of watching these losers suffer, she needed to feel it too.