Claimed By Her Step Brothers: Theirs To Own

~~FREYA ASHWOOD~~ “No one wants a failure like you, Freya. The only reason this pack hasn’t thrown you out is because I allow you to stay. Now get back to work before I make you." I flinched, the words dying in my throat, but my face must have betrayed my thoughts. "Oh, come on," she sneered, finally meeting my eyes. "You don’t actually expect me to sing for you? To shower you with praises because today is a reminder of the unfortunate day you were born?" I choked on the air, the truth locking my throat. "It's my birthday," I managed to whisper. "I’m eighteen." In a blur, she was across the room. Her fingers clamped onto my earlobes, dragging me toward the sink by the sensitive flesh. "I warned you never to call me mother!" she hissed, emphasizing the fact I’d tried so hard to forget since I was fostered at six. "I am not your mother." I bit my lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a cry. "You turn eighteen today," she continued, her voice dropping to a dangerous low. "T

CHAPTER THREE ~~FREYA ASHWOOD~~ The Town Hall was finally in sight. Polished carriages and sleek SUVs lined the drive. I slipped through the service entrance, hoping to be invincible to the others. But as soon as I hit the industrial light of the kitchen, the head cook, Clara, stopped mid-shout. Her eyes raked over my torn shirt and the blood drying on my chin. "Freya? Look at you! You look like something a stray cat dragged in." She didn't ask if I was okay. She didn't see the trauma in my eyes. She only saw a smudge on her pristine reputation. "Get to the closet. Scrub that filth off your face before you poison the air. If the Alpha sees you like this, we’re all dead." I spent five minutes at the utility sink, the cold water stinging my raw skin. Outside the door, the muffled sound of violins and laughter taunted me. I wasn't a guest. I was the help. But somewhere in that room, there might be the man who was supposed to be my other half. I cracked the door to the main hall.

CHAPTER FIVE ~~FREYA ASHWOOD~| Beatrice was standing by the car, her arms crossed, her face a mask of pinched irritation. She didn't look like a mother losing a child, she looked like a landlord finally getting rid of a bad tenant. "You just have to make a fool of yourself every single time, don't you? It's sickening," she spat. My mate finally set me on my feet, but his hand remained clamped on my arm. "Get in," he ordered. The warmth I’d felt in the woods was gone, replaced by a jagged, impatient edge. I scrambled into the back seat, only to realize the trap was already full. Sitting there, bathed in the dim dome light of the SUV, were the other two. The silver-haired eldest and the golden-eyed savior who had left me in the dirt. "I see you have a knack for making things more difficult than they need to be." Golden eyed Saviour said, his jaw set in a line so hard it looked carved from granite. I instinctively reached into my pocket for the leather bracelet. My hear

CHAPTER SEVEN ~~FREYA ASHWOOD~~ The room they gave me was larger than the broom closet I’d occupied at Aunt Beatrice’s, but to me,. It felt less like a bedroom and more like a waiting room for a funeral. "If you aren't satisfied, I could show you the other vacant rooms in this wing," the maid whispered. Her voice was shaky, her eyes darting to the door as if she expected the Alpha to burst in and strike us both down. "No. This is fine." She moved toward my battered suitcase, her hands reaching for the latches. I stepped in her way immediately. I couldn't let her see the gray, threadbare shirts and the socks with holes in the heels. "I’ll do that myself." "Lord Xavier ordered that I see to your settlement," she protested weakly. "I am perfectly settled," I insisted quietly. She flinched, gave a forced little nod, and hurried out. I collapsed onto the bed, the silence of the manor pressing against my eardrums. I was finally back. The girl who killed the Alpha’s beloved Luna.

CHAPTER NINE ~~FREYA ~~ I woke up to the smell of herbal incense. The hours I’d spent unconscious was a blur of dreams I could barely recall. When Xavier and Quinn had cornered me, asking about the maid, about the food, about the face of my poisoner; I had nothing to give them. It was as though the memory of the meal had been wiped clean. All I knew was fear. A deep, soul-shaking dread of the man who ruled this manor. "It's over now. I'm fine," I lied to my reflection. I was back in my faded jeans and a threadbare tee, my hair pulled into two defensive pigtails. Today was the day I traded the threat of the dungeon for the unknown hell of Gryphon Academy. Xavier’s "mercy" was starting to feel like a different kind of cage, but I had to step into it. The door swung open without a knock. Ryker strolled in, a permanent, taunting smirk playing on his lips. "Ready for the shark tank, I see," he jeered. His eyes did a slow, insulting sweep of my scrawny frame. "Quinn said I’m