Escaping the Alpha, Claimed in the End

Amelia’s POV

I never thought I’d run away from my own Pack, but here I was—alone on a train, heading somewhere I hoped they’d never find me.

The train jolted forward, and the world outside started to blur. Trees, roads, and buildings flashed past the windows, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to get as far away from that place as possible—and never go back.

I sat alone in a corner compartment, curled into the faded red velvet of the seat, trying not to think about everything that had happened. 

I used to believe that if I tried hard enough, my father might see me as more than just a useless Omega. But that hope shattered the moment I overheard him planning to sell me off like I was nothing.

I found out by accident. A week ago, I'd been heading down to the kitchen for water in the middle of the night and heard them talking.

“She’s useless to us here,” Grace said, her voice low and mean. “But the Pawmoon Pack will pay good money for her. Alpha Ryder needs a breeder, and Amelia’s got the looks for it.”

“It’s a good deal,” Dad said, like he was selling cattle, not his own daughter. “She’s nothing but trouble anyway.”

I stood frozen outside the kitchen doorway, the ceramic cup slipping through my fingers and shattering at my feet. The sharp sound brought an abrupt silence, quickly replaced by heavy footsteps. My heart hammered as my father appeared, his expression dark with fury.

“Please,” I begged, falling to my knees as terror choked my words. “Please don’t do this. I’ll be good, I swear—”

He silenced me with his fist. Pain exploded across my cheek, my lip splitting open. The blows kept coming, mercilessly, until I couldn't breathe through the coppery warmth pouring from my mouth, my cheek, my ribs.

"You should be grateful," my father spat as he dragged me across the floor by my hair. "Ryder's pack will feed you. House you. Use you like you're meant to be used."

From somewhere behind him, Grace spoke calmly, coldly appraising me like livestock. "And let’s not forget—her looks are an asset. Alpha Ryder values pretty faces."

My father’s grip tightened painfully, and he glanced up sharply at Jasper, who stood quietly in the shadows, watching with detached curiosity. "You’ll take her to the Pawmoon Pack in a few days. Make sure Ryder gets exactly what he paid for."

It was in moments like these that I missed my mother most intensely.

She died when I was two. I don’t remember her face, just fragments from stories Dad used to tell before he stopped caring. Sometimes I’d wonder how her voice sounded, or what scent lingered in her hair, but all I found was a vast, aching emptiness.

Then Dad married Grace—sharp, cold—and with her came Jasper, my stepbrother. 

From day one, the rooms tilted toward him. The Pack did, too. Warriors mentored him; elders hovered; Dad’s voice softened at his name. Training at dawn, councils at dusk—every choice shaped to make him stronger. The council named him heir early, and by the time he finally wore the Alpha title, the space where I’d once existed had been erased. I learned to move quiet—the unloved daughter no one thought to miss.

Power didn’t mellow Jasper; it honed him. His temper was quick and precise. He didn’t need to shout—one look sent Omegas scrambling. In the yard he splintered dummies with his hands and kept trainees drilling until they dropped. Mercy wasn’t a lesson he studied. Silverlight learned to read his moods; the rest of us learned to brace.

For a while, I told myself Dad’s devotion was just grief bent out of shape, that he’d find his way back to me once the storm passed. 

But eventually, the truth became painfully clear:

He just didn’t want me anymore. And now he’d made that clear by choosing to sell me for money.

That night, I refused to let myself drift into the false comfort of sleep. I couldn’t pretend anymore—couldn't fool myself into believing things would ever get better.

I waited until the house fell silent, every creak of the floorboards like nails scraping against my nerves. 

When I was sure everyone slept, I retrieved the butter knife I'd hidden beneath my mattress and quietly pried the window open. My hands trembled as I climbed out, pulse hammering in my ears.

I didn’t have a plan—just a small bag filled with clothes and the meager savings I'd scraped together from odd jobs. 

My heart was racing so fast it felt ready to burst as I sprinted through the darkness toward the train station, bought the cheapest ticket available, and boarded the first train out of Silverlight.

Now, the train hummed beneath me, carrying me someplace—anyplace—that wasn’t Silverlight territory.

Alpha Ryder.

Just hearing his name sent chills down my spine.

Everyone knew about him, but no one had ever actually seen him. No photos. No videos. Nothing. It was like he lived in the shadows on purpose.

The Pawmoon Pack was the biggest pack in the north. People said they were fierce and strict, and most of them had been soldiers once. They didn’t take kindly to strangers, and they followed their rules without question. 

Some even said they worked with dark mages and witches, using magic to protect their land and punish their enemies.

Their Alpha was worse.

They said he was a monster. That he’d been wounded in some brutal border war and never fully healed. That he walked with a limp but still fought like a beast. That he ruled his territory with fear, and didn’t think twice about tearing his enemies apart with his bare hands.

Some said even his own Pack was afraid of him. Others claimed he didn’t have a heart at all.

And my family had chosen me to be his breeder. His pet.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the windowpane, fighting back tears. There was no turning back now, no safe place left behind me. The only way out was forward..

I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew, the compartment door slammed open. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat. 

A guy stumbled in, his clothes torn and soaked with blood. His dark hair was a mess, sticking to his forehead, and his eyes were wild, like a cornered animal. 

He looked a few years older than me, tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that shouldn’t have been attractive in that moment—but somehow was. 

Pale, wild, and still stupidly handsome.

My first instinct was to scream, but he moved faster. The door slammed shut, the lock twisted into place with a snap.

“Who—who are—” I barely started.

“Quiet.” His voice was ice, emotionless, commanding obedience as naturally as breathing. “I need to hide.”

Before I could react, he peeled off his bloodied shirt, tossing it carelessly aside to reveal a muscled torso marred by deep scratches and smeared blood. Crossing the tiny compartment in two strides, he was on me, cornering me on the narrow bed.

“Move,” he demanded sharply.

“What are you—” My voice strangled in panic, my body instinctively scooting backward until my spine pressed painfully against the cold wall. But he was already looming over me, his presence suffocating, eyes narrowing with irritation.

Without hesitation or remorse, he grabbed the collar of my blouse, yanking hard. Buttons popped off, scattering across the bed. I gasped, clutching at the torn fabric to shield myself—but he was quicker, gripping my wrists roughly and pinning them beside my head.

“Don’t scream,” he warned, his voice low and lethal. He produced a knife seemingly out of nowhere, pressing the cool blade firmly against my neck. The edge bit slightly, just enough to hint at what he was capable of. “Make one sound louder than a whisper, and I'll slit your throat.”

My breathing quickened, tears stinging behind my eyes as his unblinking gaze locked onto mine, cold and unfeeling. My pulse thundered painfully against the sharp edge of the knife.

“They’re searching for a man alone,” he said coldly, dispassionately, like explaining simple logic to a child. “But a man enjoying himself with a woman? They won’t bother to check twice.”

I stared back, utterly paralyzed.

He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a sharp, dangerous growl, eyes dark and merciless.

“Moan,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Moan like I’m f*cking you.”