Provoking The Beasts

Elena

I was here. In my room.

Back in my dad's grand fortress—the one I'd tried to escape this morning.

Night closed in, thick and suffocating, swallowing everything whole. And my defeat? It sat heavy on my chest, bitter and sharp.

They'd brought me back home in a ride I'd spent fighting the entire time, even though I was told not to. Even though I knew I'd failed. Still, I'd landed a few scratches on both bastards. They were small, but I knew they hurt. I'd seen blood.

And they'd seen more.

The jacket had covered me—barely. The buttons? Flimsy. Useless.

I didn't know. I might've even flashed Ashton my boobs when I dug my nails into his neck, my body twisting as I fought, my ass pressed to Jax while doing so.

Their warm gazes were still all over me, even though they shouldn't have been.

A few maids had scrubbed me clean after—scrubbed me raw—and now I was here, sitting alone in my room, crying as I clutched my mate's pendant in my fist.

David.

Six months, and I still couldn't believe he was gone.

The door opened, and my mother walked in.

"Not again," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I hid my tears and shoved the pendant beneath my pillow.

She stepped farther inside, her eyes sharp with judgment, arms crossing over her chest. "You dared cause trouble for your father again, Elena," she said coldly. "When will you ever learn to be responsible enough?"

"Responsible enough?" I let out a bitter chuckle as I stood from the bed. "Where is your fucking responsibility when you're marrying me off to that monster?" My voice rose, shaking with fury. "Do you even know what he did to those women? He's a monster. A perverted piece of shit."

"He will do no such thing to you," she replied, as if that alone fixed everything. "You will be treated with respect."

"As if that changes who he really is!" I spat. "Are you crazy? Do you even hear yourself? You're telling me I shouldn't be afraid of marrying a murderer because he wouldn't fucking murder me!"

She sighed, disbelief written all over her face, and it grated on my nerves.

"This is for the pack, Elena. Accept it and be done with it," she said. "It's not like crying about it will change what's about to happen."

My jaw clenched as I stepped closer. "Of course it won't," I muttered. "But you being so defensive about this whole setup just proves what you also care about—Richardson money." My voice sharpened. "Henry would be a great ladder for both of you."

Her eyes widened.

The slap came before I could blink.

Pain exploded across my cheek, my head snapping to the side. The impact was harsh—but the truth was harsher.

My parents didn't care about me.

They cared about money.

"This marriage will happen—no matter what," she spat. "So act like a lady and swallow it."

Then she turned and walked out without another glance.

The door closed.

Slowly, I sank to my knees, tears sliding freely down my cheeks.

Had I always been an object to them?

Something they could sell—or trade—when my price was high enough?

***

I couldn't sleep the entire night.

By the time the sky began to pale, it was nearly six in the morning.

My cheek still burned from my mother's slap. I was pretty sure it had left a mark, but I didn't bother checking. My whole life was getting fucked—worrying about a mark on my face felt laughable.

Slowly, I pushed myself up and walked out of my room, heading downstairs.

Coffee. That might help.

I felt empty. Ever since the bond between David and me had shattered with his death, I'd been hollow. Sometimes—stupidly—I imagined he'd just show up and tell me he hadn't died. That it was someone else. But no. I'd seen his body.

It had been blissful in the cruelest way. I didn't even know if I'd loved him—but he was my mate. Not pure-blooded like me. Not rich. But he had everything I'd been looking for.

He was my soulmate.

And I'd only touched him once.

Just once.

Kissed him once.

And the next morning—when he was supposed to arrive—his dead body did instead, washed up on the shore.

The sound of the espresso machine broke through my thoughts, hot liquid pouring into glass, filling the empty kitchen with noise. I pulled the cup toward my lips.

Then I felt it.

Familiar scents.

Familiar footsteps.

They hadn't left yet.

A second later, Jax walked in.

Shirtless. Skin damp with sweat. An empty water bottle dangling from his hand. He froze when he noticed me—his eyes flicked briefly to my cheek before he looked away and moved past me to fill the bottle with cold water.

Then the other devil stepped in.

Ashton.

He stopped at the doorway, his presence heavy, his gaze sharp.

"Threw a fit and hit yourself to get back at your mom and dad?" Ashton asked coolly.

Typical.

The Sterling twins—heartless monsters, feared across the continent. Loyal to the point of cruelty. Dominating bastards who ruled not just territory, but women's hearts too—breaking them as casually as breathing.

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted even more bitter than usual.

"Well," I said quietly, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it, "I don't know if your peanut-sized brain allows you to believe this or not, but parents who are ready to marry their daughter off to a murderer and sadist for money probably wouldn't be heartbroken if she hit herself."

Silence fell.

Jax froze mid-sip.

The air thickened—suffocating—heavy with their scent. Wood. Rain. Raw masculinity. They'd been on a run. I was sure of it.

"Henry would never treat you poorly," Jax said after a moment. "We and your father have already settled the matter."

A bitter laugh slipped out of me. "Oh—thank you." I slammed the cup onto the counter. "But nothing changes the fact that he's a fucked-up, depraved monster. And me?" My voice sharpened. "I'll be his virgin wife. Something he can ruin every night after killing ten people a day. What a beautiful wedding. A warm body to crawl into after his blood runs cold from the sins he commits."

Both of them stilled.

The tension snapped tight.

Jax's grip on the bottle tightened. Ashton remained unreadable—emotionless as ever.

"Your father has sacrificed a lot for his pack," Ashton said calmly. "Maybe it's time you did something for it too. It's your duty."

That did it.

Rage exploded through me.

"Then you should've let me fucking handle it with my dad instead of abducting me!" I snapped, stepping closer to him, my eyes locked onto his.

"We helped a friend," he replied evenly.

"To sell his daughter?" I shot back.

Silence again.

Jax moved closer—right behind me.

"It was necessary," he said, his voice vibrating against my neck, sliding down my spine and sending unwanted shivers through me, "Running would've made things worse. Henry would've hunted you down."

"You should've let me deal with Henry too," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder.

Jax chuckled softly. "You don't stand a chance against him."

A bitter laugh left me. "Yet here you are—helping sell me to him."

That hit.

Something flickered in Ashton's eyes before he spoke. People said Jax still had a heart. They said Ashton didn't.

He proved them right the next moment he opened his mouth.

"Then you might as well make yourself useful," he said coldly, "and make the trade worth it."

I didn't think.

I just reacted.

My hand came up and landed hard against his cheek.

The crack echoed through the kitchen.

Ashton's head snapped to the side.

Elena

The sound of the slap echoed through the place for a few long seconds.

Then Ashton's eyes met mine.

Dark. Intense. Furious.

A low chuckle sounded behind me—Jax.

And then everything happened at once.

My wrists were suddenly caught in Ashton's grip, his hands iron-hard as he slammed me back against the counter. The wood bit into my lower back as my palms were pinned flat, trapped between the counter and his hold. His body came down on mine—hot, sweaty, overwhelming—pressed against me through the thin fabric of my nightdress.

Fuck.

He was strong.

That wasn't the worst part.

He was angry.

That was the worst part.

Tattoos licked up his arms, crawling over sculpted muscle to his chest and neck. Six foot two of solid, brutal strength—his hands, hard as steel, pinned me against the wood.

"Careful, Princess," he said tightly, his jaw clenched, his face inches from mine. His warm breath raked across my skin as my chest rose and fell too fast, my nerves screaming under the sheer power rolling off him. "That's exactly how you get killed in a world like this. If you weren't Gabrielle's daughter, you'd be dead already."

The words hit—but not as hard as everything else crashing inside me.

Frustration. Exhaustion. Pain.

They drowned me.

I wanted to cry.

So badly.

And before I could stop myself, tears burned my eyes, spilling over. "Then why don't you just do it?" I cried, my voice breaking. "Why don't you just end this instead of helping him sell me off? Death would be so much easier!"

For a fraction of a second—just a breath—Ashton's eyes softened.

Then it was gone.

"He's your father," he muttered, his grip still firm, his body still pressed to mine. I could feel every inch of his muscles, every line of strength beneath his skin. Even his tattoos seemed to radiate heat and I hated even while sweaty, these bastards, smelt good, "He knows what's best for you."

"He's selfish," I whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks. "All he wants is power. He's selling me to get it. Nothing about this favors me. Nothing."

Don't cry, Elena.

You're stronger than this.

Don't cry.

But fuck—I never even got the chance to grieve properly. And now I was being groomed to be sold.

Ashton noticed my tears.

Slowly, he released my hands and stepped back.

Hesitation.

Yes—hesitation flickered in his eyes.

Jax moved closer then, holding out a tissue. "Here."

I took it, my fingers trembling as I wiped my face. Was that all I was? Something to be traded so the pack could rise higher?

Did my life mean nothing?

"Listen, little wolf," Jax said quietly. "How about you don't think about this right now. We'll talk to your dad. We'll raise your concerns."

A bitter chuckle escaped me. "How about you stop feeding me false hope?" I said. "Nothing will change his mind. He's been offered three billion for this arrangement. Unless you're offering more, it's already decided."

Jax exchanged a look with Ashton.

I didn't know what they were thinking—but I knew this wasn't just about helping a friend.

They were involved.

I wasn't stupid.

"Anyway," I straightened, tossing the tissue away. "How much did you two get for this? You don't do anything for free."

"What?" Jax scoffed. "You think we hunted you down for money?"

"What else?" I shot back. "Nothing's free in this world. That much I know."

Ashton finally spoke. "We owe your father," he said evenly. "He asked for a favor—to make sure the wedding goes through. To make sure the contract isn't broken. That's why we're here."

"Oh," I laughed darkly. "The contract. Three billion for a virgin bride. Not bad, right?"

Ashton opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"Guess what?" I said, meeting his gaze. "Henry wants a virgin bride. It's non-negotiable." A slow smile curved my lips—sharp, reckless. "So since you're here to help my father—good luck protecting my virginity."

Jax stared at me. "That's a stupid plan, Elena."

"Sometimes stupidity saves you."

I turned to leave—but Ashton grabbed my wrist.

The contact burned.

I looked back at him over my shoulder. "What? You going to lock me up now?"

"No," he said tightly. "I'm saying this for your own good. You're going to get someone killed. And unless you want more blood on your hands—you should stop."

"My mate was killed, Alpha," I said coldly. "And I will find out who did it—no matter what. If I marry that bastard, one of us won't walk out alive the next morning. And I'll make damn sure it's me."

"Henry isn't a rookie," Jax said quietly, staring out at the orange streaks of dawn. "You're living in a fairy tale."

"Cinderella's dead," I murmured, yanking my hand free. "And with monsters like you guarding this contract?" I smiled without humor. "This isn't a fairy tale. It's a fucked-up story. And if I go down—I'm dragging everyone with me. Including both of you."

Jax finally looked at me—his expression unreadable, but his eyes sharp.

Ashton's gaze had darkened completely now—dangerous enough to make most people back away.

I didn't.

I turned and walked out.