Chapter 2

Guest

*****

In the dark, a creak broke the silence...

The old kitchen door opened slowly, its loud creak echoing in the darkness. I froze, lying completely still, holding my breath. My heart raced, thumping so hard I could almost hear it in the quiet. Someone was there. Someone was sneaking in.

“Who’s there?” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. I felt around for something—anything—I could use to defend myself. But before I could grab anything, rough hands found me first, pinning my wrists down hard. A cloth was shoved into my mouth, silencing me. I tried to scream, but it came out as a muffled sound.

“Stay quiet, Freya, and I won’t hurt you,” said a cold voice in the dark.

Chills ran down my spine as I recognized the voice. It was Enzo. He was Lycril’s son, and the sight of him alone was enough to make people nervous. But this—this was something far worse than I could have imagined. Panic seized me, and I struggled, trying to pull away from his grip. I twisted, kicked, and tried to scream, but he was too strong, and the cloth kept my cries locked inside.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an old bottle on the shelf above me. Desperately, I stretched my arm, my fingers brushing the glass until I managed to grab it. With all the strength I had, I swung the bottle at him. It smashed against his head with a loud crack, and he stumbled back, blood dripping down his face.

“Freya,” he hissed, fury filling his eyes as he stepped forward, looking ready to lash out. But just as he moved toward me, we both heard footsteps down the hall.

It was Lycril.

Relief rushed through me at the sound of another person, but I quickly remembered who Lycril really was. She wasn’t coming to save me.

The door burst open, and Lycril entered, taking in the broken glass, Enzo’s blood, and me on the floor, terrified. Her face was stone-cold, unreadable.

“What is going on here?” she demanded, her voice hard and filled with authority.

I tried to explain, to tell her what Enzo had done, my voice shaking with fear and anger. “He… he tried to—” But before I could finish, Lycril’s hand lashed out, slapping me across the face.

“How dare you accuse my son?” she spat, her voice icy and full of contempt.

“But it’s true!” I cried, my cheek burning from the slap, hoping she would believe me. But she just turned and gave Enzo a sharp, disappointed look.

“You know better, Enzo,” she said, her tone cold. “We don’t want her… damaged. The Alpha is expecting her.”

Her words hit me like a punch. She didn’t care about what he had done to me, only that I was still useful to her. I wasn’t a person to her, just an object to be handed over to someone else. That “someone” was the Alpha.

Enzo gave me one last angry glare before leaving the room, muttering curses under his breath. Lycril grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, her grip bruising. “Clean yourself up,” she ordered, her voice as harsh as ever. “The Alpha won’t want to see you looking like this.”

Her words stung. It didn’t matter what had happened to me; all that mattered to her was that I looked “presentable.” She didn’t care how I felt, only how I looked.

With a shaky breath, I stumbled outside. I grabbed a bucket of cold water, scrubbing my skin as hard as I could, trying to wash away the awful feeling left from Enzo’s touch and Lycril’s slap. Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to stay quiet. Crying wouldn’t help. They would only laugh if they saw me like this.

Hours must have passed because the next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by freezing water splashed over my face. I gasped, shivering from the shock, as I looked up to see Amanda, Lycril’s daughter, standing over me, smirking. She looked amused, as if waking me this way was her favorite game.

“Mother wants you ready in ten minutes,” she said, sounding utterly bored. “The Alpha will be here soon.”

The Alpha. The very thought made my stomach twist with dread. I had known this day would come, but I still wasn’t ready for it.

I hurried to the bathroom, washing myself with a kind of desperation, as if I could scrub away the fear that clung to me. I thought about the dress I had sewn for myself. I had made it in hopes of wearing it for someone special—a true mate who would love me and care for me. But now, as I put it on, it felt like nothing more than a cruel reminder of a life I would never have.

I glanced in the mirror. The girl staring back was pale, tired, bruised. Today was supposed to be my eighteenth birthday—a day I once thought would be full of happiness and freedom. But now, it feels like complete chaos for me. 

 But as I look back, I realize that it was also a turning point. It was the day I discovered my strength, my resilience, and my determination to fight for what I want. And that's something to be proud of, birthday or not

The first light of dawn crept into the room as heavy footsteps echoed through the house. I heard Lycril barking orders in her sharp, demanding voice. Then I heard a new voice—low, deep, and calm. The Alpha had arrived.

My heart hammered as I heard him approaching. The door opened, and he stepped inside. He was tall, his figure filling the doorway. His gaze was cold and assessing, as though he were looking at something he was about to buy.

“This is her?” he asked, his voice smooth but carrying a chilling edge.

Lycril nodded eagerly. “Yes, Alpha. She’s strong and obedient,” she said with a smile, as if she were presenting a prized object. “No trouble at all.”

The Alpha’s eyes stayed on me, piercing and hard. He took a step closer, his gaze moving over me in a way that made my skin prickle with unease. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over the fabric of my dress. His touch was soft, but it made my stomach twist with dread. A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, dark and unsettling.

“Happy birthday, Freya,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery. “Welcome to your new life.”

His words felt like a heavy weight settling over me. This was it—the future that Lycril, Enzo, and Amanda had shaped for me. A future closing around me like a cage. I wanted to scream, to rip off the dress and run far away from them all. But I was trapped. My fate was sealed.

And yet, deep inside, a tiny spark of defiance burned. They had tried to crush me, to break me. But I held onto that small, stubborn part of myself—the part that refused to give in.

They hadn’t taken everything from me.

Not yet.