Bound to the Beast.

Abbey’s Point of View

A snarl ripped through his chest. “Mine,” Alpha Jemery said. My eyes snapped up to meet his, shock freezing me in place. That scent — fresh wood and leather — it was him. He was the one I’d smelled for weeks.

His.

The word slammed into me like a stone. My mind raced, panic clawing at my ribs. This can’t be real. My mate? The man who killed my parents? Of all the wolves in the universe, fate chose him. I’d spent years imagining my mate as gentle, kind — someone who’d hold me with soft hands and whisper promises under the stars. Someone who would be my escape. My hope. My dream.

But now that dream shattered like glass at my feet.

I couldn’t breathe. His claim — mine — chained me tighter than any cell ever could. My heart sank into a pit of despair so deep I wondered if I’d ever climb out. I felt trapped, suffocated by the cruel twist of fate that bound me to him. The mate bond that should have felt like salvation felt like a prison.

I didn’t dare move or speak. My limbs felt frozen, my mind blank with shock. He stood just a few feet away, posture rigid, shoulders tense, a fist clenched at his side. Moon Goddess, wake me up. Please let this be a nightmare.

His eyes dragged over me, taking in every filthy, broken piece of me — barefoot in rags that hadn’t been clean in weeks, hair matted around my shoulders, grime smudged across my tear-streaked face. The cell’s damp stink clung to my skin. Yet somehow, I forced myself to stand straight, refusing to shrink.

Suddenly, he stepped forward and gripped my chin so hard I winced. His touch burned like a brand. “Your face,” he growled, voice low and lethal. “Who did this?”

Before I could speak, he released me and turned sharply to the guard, Josh, who hovered near the cell door. “Who marked her?” Alpha Jemery’s tone sliced the air.

“I-I did,” Josh stammered. “She tried to escape. I didn’t know she was yours.”

For a heartbeat, silence fell. Then, without warning, the Alpha lunged. A blur — a wet, sickening sound — and Josh’s head hit the forest floor. Blood sprayed across the clearing, warm droplets landing on my cheek.

I stood frozen. My brain refused to process the horror. One second Josh was pleading — the next, gone. Just like that. I couldn’t even flinch.

“Clean this up,” Alpha Jemery ordered, his voice calm, as if he hadn’t just torn a man’s head off. He flicked his cold eyes at me. “Take her away.”

A huge man — probably the Beta — barked at two guards I didn’t recognize. They seized my arms. Panic flared, raw and wild.

“Don’t touch me! Let me go!” I thrashed, screaming until my throat burned, tears spilling hot and fast again. I will kill him. I swear to the Moon Goddess, I will kill him. But my rage did nothing. They tightened their grip, dragging me away from the clearing — away from Charity, my only friend left in this hell.

I twisted my head back desperately, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the cell house. But it shrank behind the trees, gone too soon. My hope of seeing Charity again vanished with it.

We finally stopped at a house I didn’t bother to look at properly. They pushed me into a small room and left me alone. I blinked, stunned. A bed — clean sheets, a pillow. After weeks on cold stone, it looked like paradise. There were no bars, no damp walls — just a plain room with four walls and silence.

Was this a trick? Would he come for me? My heart raced at the thought, torn between dread and something worse — hope. I backed into a corner instead of lying on the bed. I wouldn’t stain the sheets with my filth. I hugged my knees to my chest and let the darkness claim me.

A knock jolted me awake. My eyes flew to the door as it creaked open. I braced myself for him — for anger, for pain — but instead, a young girl stepped in, balancing a tray.

“Hello, miss,” she said with a shy smile. “I brought your dinner.”

For a second, I couldn’t find my voice. Food? Real food? My eyes fell to the tray — a steaming bowl, a bottle of water. My stomach growled painfully.

“May I come in?” she asked softly.

“Y-yes.” My words stumbled out, torn between suspicion and desperate gratitude.

She placed the tray on the small table beside the bed and stepped back, hands folded behind her back. Her humble posture made the moment feel even more unreal.

“When you’re done, leave the tray outside your door. Someone will collect it,” she said. Her voice was calm, practiced. I stared at her, searching her face for answers.

“Do you know… what will happen to me?” I whispered.

She met my eyes but didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know.” She bowed slightly, turned, and slipped out — leaving me alone with the smell of fried chicken and rice.

I sank to the floor in front of the tray, tears blurring my vision. I hadn’t tasted food like this in weeks. The warmth of it brought back memories of my mother’s cooking, of dinners by the hearth, of laughter that no longer existed. I would have given anything to share this with Charity — even a crust of stale bread would be better if we were together.

I ate slowly, each bite heavy with guilt. When the food was gone, emptiness filled me again. Hours passed. No one came. The single bulb overhead buzzed — I hadn’t noticed until now that there were no windows. No moonlight. No way out.

Eventually, exhaustion won. I crept toward the bed, then froze. I was filthy — blood clung to my skin, mine and Josh’s. Would he be angry if I ruined his sheets? The thought made me shiver. If I was going to kill him, I couldn’t risk angering him yet. I grabbed the thin blanket from the bed and curled up in my corner instead.

Sleep pulled me under, but even in my dreams, his voice echoed in my mind. Mine.