Bound by Blood and Hatred

Eira’s POV "Jenny, you can bring her to the exit hallway. The Alphas will receive her there," Henry’s voice pulled me sharply back to the present. I watched as he and Paul left the room in haste, probably too impatient to claim the fortune they’d earned by selling me off. "You’re lucky, you know," Jenny said, still fixated on the screen displaying the winner Alphas. "Not just one, but five rich and powerful Alphas. If I were a she-wolf, I’d throw myself at them. But a mere human like me can only lust after money, and survive this boring life." While she was lost in her fantasies, I quickly grabbed a tiny syringe filled with a clear drug that had been carelessly left in the tray next to me, and slipped it beneath the hem of my flimsy, knee-length off-white gown, pressing it against my thigh. Jenny began pushing the wheelchair down the dim, sterile hallway, the so-called exit. The passage was narrow, lit by flickering yellow lights that gave it a hollow, haunted air. The cold

Roman’s POV Without wasting a second, both men wiped the nonexistent sweat from their brows and led us five to outside the door of that exit hallway. "How did she escape? Wasn’t she drugged?" the round-bellied one demanded, his facade of composure now gone. "She was," the other man replied grimly, "but somehow she fought off the effects. She injected Jenny with the same drug and managed to flee." Meanwhile Lucian entered the door where we could see a woman lying on the floor and there was a syringe as well. He picked it up, brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. Lucian, the drug enthusiast. He didn’t just consume them—he created them. His knowledge of chemicals was disturbingly vast, enough to identify a compound with a single sniff. He smirked, wicked amusement lighting up his eyes. "Seems like our little fox is stronger than we thought. Can’t wait to try some of my new brews on her." Jason took the syringe next, sniffed it, and whistled low. "Damn. This stuff is pot

Roman’s POV I looked down at her. She was still breathing—barely. Blood clung to her lips, smeared across her face, and soaked into every inch of her torn, battered body. She looked more like a corpse than someone still clinging to life. I knelt beside her and slid my arms beneath her fragile frame. "If not for Kael’s sake... pureblood or not... you would’ve died today," I muttered, unsure if she was even conscious enough to hear me. "I don’t want him to lose Sophia after everything he’s already lost—because of you." I paused, jaw tightening. "Lucian’s right. You don’t deserve to live. But..." I lifted her into my arms. She felt weightless—far too light for someone who had once carried so much ruin in her name. But then, I pushed aside the thought, not wanting to feel a tinge of sympathy or pity towards her. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve anything. Cradling her limp form, I made my way back toward the vehicles. We had arrived in two cars. One would be left be

Kael’s POV I hadn’t slept a moment last night after seeing her. For years, I had been waiting, searching for a pureblood she-wolf. Someone who could save Sophia. But never, not even in the darkest corner of my imagination, had I expected it to be her. Eira. The name alone was enough to ignite every buried fury inside me. The one I thought had vanished from this world, the girl I wished had never existed. She had destroyed everything I had ever held dear. My parents, the Alpha and Luna of the Storm Howl Pack, were dead because of her. Sophia, the woman I loved, now lay clinging to life, her body frail, her spirit fading. And our unborn child... gone before even taking a breath. When I saw her again last night, the rage I had been suppressing for six long years surged to the surface, boiling over. If Lucian hadn’t reached her first and started strangling her, I would have ripped her apart and scattered her remains for the wild animals to feed on. But reason snapped me back

Eira’s POV ’Just a little more. And it would all be over.’ Limping, crawling, barely able to breathe, I somehow made it to the boundery wall of the rooftop. Every movement burned, my wounds stinging beneath the thin layer of sweat that now coated my skin. For the first time in six years, I saw the city bathed in daylight. The sun was warm and gentle, and the breeze brushed softly against my battered skin. For a moment, it felt like heaven. Peaceful. Quiet. Soothing. Before I threw myself into the air, I wanted to remember him—my baby, my son. After he was born, the moment I held him, wrapped tightly in a cloth, sleeping peacefully with a face no larger than my palm, I found the will to live again. He felt like a ray of light in the darkness that surrounded me. I named him Ray. I closed my eyes and tried to relive that memory. My baby. The life I carried within me for nine long months. The last time I saw him, he was only a day old. That image had been seared into my soul.