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~TATE'S POV~

"Dear Miss Osborne, I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into our early action program here at Westwood University of Law—" Jamie's voice cracked with excitement as he read from the letter. "Oh my God, Tate! You got in! Congratulations!"

My best friend bounced on his toes, practically vibrating with joy, but I could barely process his words. The acceptance letter trembled in my hands like a lifeline I had been drowning to reach.

"I can't believe it," I whispered, then louder, with a laugh that bordered on hysteria: "I fucking actually got in!"

"Yes, girl! And now you can escape that toxic hellhole you call home." Jamie's protective fury blazed in his dark eyes—the same look he had worn since we were kids whenever someone tried to hurt me.

"Two more weeks," I murmured, allowing myself a genuine smile for the first time in months. "Just two more weeks and I'm free."

Jamie's expression softened. "I still don't understand why you're torturing yourself by staying with them. My family would take you in a heartbeat—Mom practically considers you her third child already."

"I'll manage." I glanced at my watch, watching precious seconds tick away. "I have to get to work. See you tomorrow."

Before he could argue further, I bolted from the school, autumn air sharp against my flushed cheeks as I rushed toward the bus stop.

My name is Tate Osborne, and at eighteen, I've already lived through more hell than most people face in a lifetime. Three months ago, my father died in a car accident, and since then, my world has crumbled into a nightmare I can't wake up from.

My uncle Tommy and his wife Sally swooped in like vultures, playing the grieving, caring relatives while the funeral flowers were still fresh. But the moment the last mourner left, their masks slipped completely.

The house my father built—the sanctuary where I had grown up surrounded by his love—became my prison overnight. Aunt Sally banished me to the cold, damp basement, claiming my old bedroom for storage.

I became their unpaid servant: cooking, cleaning, working part-time just to help cover bills that shouldn't be my responsibility.

Uncle Tommy's justification? "No free rides under my roof."

What he conveniently ignored was that this roof belonged to my father, bought and paid for when he married my mother—the woman who died bringing me into this world.

Tommy might be my only living relative, but that didn't give him the right to treat me like hired help in my own home.

He had played the devoted brother while Dad was alive, but grief strips away pretenses. Now his bitterness burned bright and ugly, as if my very existence was a personal offense.

But I had an escape plan. In exactly fourteen days, I would board a bus to Massachusetts and start fresh at Westwood University. I just had to survive until then.

"Need a ride?" Eve asked, locking up Murphy's Diner where I had been pulling shifts since school started. Her voice carried its usual warmth—a stark contrast to the chill settling over our small town.

"Thanks, but I'll walk. It's not far, and I could use the air."

The twenty-minute walk home was my only comfort these days, the one pocket of peace where I could breathe without someone barking orders at me.

But peace shattered the moment I reached our front porch.

"Where the hell have you been?" Aunt Sally's voice cut through the evening air like a blade. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her face twisted in familiar irritation.

"Working my shift at the diner," I replied evenly, though my stomach clenched with familiar fear.

"I need you to come with me. Holly's at a friend's house and needs picking up." Her tone brooked no argument—not that I had any choice in the matter.

I followed her to the beat-up sedan, unease prickling at my spine. Something felt off. Holly was fifteen and perfectly capable of getting herself home, especially since her friends lived in town.

But questioning Sally's logic had never ended well for me.

We drove in suffocating silence, tension thick enough to choke on. After an hour of winding roads, Sally turned onto a narrow dirt path that disappeared deep into the woods.

Ancient trees pressed in from both sides like silent lookouts, their shadows growing longer and more frightening as daylight faded.

When we finally stopped, my breath caught in my throat.

A sprawling mansion loomed before us, all dark stone and towering windows that seemed to watch our approach. But it wasn't the imposing architecture that made my blood run cold—it was the group of men standing guard at the entrance.

They were massive, built like warriors, with an aura of barely contained violence that made my skin crawl. Their eyes, cold, calculating, and predatory, swept over me like I was livestock at auction.

"Is this the girl?" The largest one stepped forward, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones.

"Yes." Sally's response was immediate, clinical. No hesitation, no emotion.

The man's lips curved into something that might have been a smile on anyone else but looked purely menacing on his scarred face. "The Twins will be very pleased."

Ice flooded my veins. "What twins? What's going on?"

"Bring me my daughter," Sally demanded, ignoring my question entirely.

Holly appeared from the shadows, rushing to her mother's side. She looked unharmed but terrified, clinging to Sally like a lifeline. The sight should have relieved me, but my panic only intensified as two of the men moved to flank me.

"What the fuck is happening?" I backed away, but there was nowhere to go.

The leader's expression remained impassive. "Your uncle and his wife collected a rather substantial debt with our Alphas. When we took their daughter as collateral, she graciously offered you as a replacement." His tone was conversational, as if discussing the weather.

"Since you have no other family to object, the arrangement was accepted."

The words hit me like physical blows. "They can't do this! This is kidnapping!"

"I'm afraid the transaction is already complete." His smile turned cruel. "You belong to the Silverfang Pack now. Consider yourself property until your uncle's debt is satisfied."

"Get away from me!" I lunged backward, but iron-strong hands clamped down on my arms, lifting me effortlessly.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, little one," the man said, hoisting me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

As he carried me toward the mansion, a woman's voice echoed from inside, sharp with curiosity: "What's all the commotion out there?"

"The Twins said I could teach her a lesson," the man replied, his voice dripping with sadistic expectation.

He hauled me through the mansion's grand entrance, past marble floors and crystal chandeliers that blurred together in my panic. Finally, he kicked open a door and hurled me inside an empty room.

I hit the hardwood floor hard, my palms scraping against the unforgiving surface as the door slammed shut behind us with bone-chilling finality.

Panic flooded my system like ice water.

I scrambled to my feet on shaking legs, my back pressed against the far wall as he stalked toward me. His eyes held a hunger that made every survival instinct I possessed scream in terror.

"Are you going to rape me?" The words tumbled out in a whisper so quiet I wasn't sure I had spoken them aloud.

His face twisted with disgust. "I would never defile myself with pathetic human filth like you."

Before I could feel relief, his fist crashed into my face with crushing force. The effect sent me sprawling across the floor, white-hot pain exploding through my skull. My vision fractured into kaleidoscope fragments as my ears began ringing like church bells.

I was still reeling when his boot connected with my stomach, driving every molecule of oxygen from my lungs. I curled into a protective ball, choking and gasping as tears streamed down my battered face.

He loomed over me like a predator savoring a kill, his eyes cold and utterly merciless.

"I'm going to show you exactly how worthless you are," he growled, each word a death sentence wrapped in malice.

And in that moment, as his shadow fell across my broken form, one terrifying certainty crystallized in my mind: I wasn't going to survive this.