Chapter 3

Alina:

The lamp stayed where I had dropped it, and  I stared at the bronze base for a long time, my hands still trembling from how tightly I had held it.

I looked at the key, and for one foolish second I wanted to snatch it and run. Then I remembered the men downstairs.

My wolf stirred weakly inside me.

Mate.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “You have no right to call him mate right now.”

She quieted, knowing that I was right. Dimitri Volkov was not mine. I was not his. I would never be his, and given that I couldn’t even shift, I didn’t expect him to accept me anyway.

The door was knocked, and I glared at it. “I don’t want anything from any of you.”

The door opened anyway, and Anya, the maid who had guided me here earlier, walked in carrying a tray. The smell of food hit me, warm bread, soup, roasted meat, tea. My stomach twisted. I had not eaten since morning, but I still turned away, refusing to allow them to have that sense of satisfaction. “I said I don’t want anything.”

“You said that before seeing what I brought.” Anya said, setting the food on the table beside the fireplace.

“I could smell it.”

“Then your wolf is working well enough.” She said calmly. “And it means that you are going to need to eat to survive.”

“I am not hungry,” I muttered, and she hummed in response.

“You are being foolish.” She said, and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest, ignoring the sting in my wrists from the burning rope marks.

“Then let me be foolish.” Anya’s eyes moved over my bruises, my torn dress, my split lip.

“You think starving yourself will prove something?” she asked. “Do you really believe that it is going to prove to anything to someone?”

“I think eating food from this house means accepting that I belong here.”

“You are in this house whether you eat or not.” She said calmly. “Might as well not make it harder on you than you are going to need to handle.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to make peace with it.” I said. “And if they want it to be hard, then fine… by all means, I am willing to fight.”

“Peace?” Anya repeated. “Child, there is no peace in this mansion. There is survival. Learn the difference quickly. Because fighting is going to get you nowhere in a place like this one.”

“I don’t…”

“You’re still breathing,” she cut in. “And that is a warning to the danger that you are in. And it is one that you don’t even understand.”

“I understand perfectly. My father sold me. Your Alpha took me, and you want me to sit and eat like a grateful guest.”

Anya’s gaze sharpened. “Watch your tone. The woman standing in front of you is not a regular maid. Do not mistake my patience to being weak.”

I smiled without warmth. “Or what? Will you take the lamp too?”

“You are very proud for a girl with no power here,” she said. “But you need to understand that surviving a debt after being dragged into a Bratva mansion is an endurance, and not some victory that you need to celebrate. In this place, you have the right to be alive,” she snapped, patience cracking. “If you want to keep that right in this house, stop acting as if pride can fill your stomach.”

“You don’t care if I eat,” I said. “You care because he ordered you to make sure I did. You don’t need to pretend otherwise.”

“My Alpha already knows you are difficult.” Anya’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “But you need to understand something, Alina Morozova. Your father handed you over to settle a debt. Whether you like it or not, your fate is now tied to Alpha Volkov.”

My chest tightened. “I don’t care.”

“You should. In this house, his word is law. His protection is the only reason the men downstairs will not touch you again. His name is the only thing standing between you and every enemy who would happily take advantage of your position.”