Hunted By My Rejected Mate
On my eighteenth birthday, when all the girls dreamed of meeting their match, of the beautiful bond that would tie her forever to her destined lover, my stepfather gave me another type of gift.
He sold me.
Sold me like cattle to the head of the Bravta Mafia.
The night he told me, he even smiled. "You should be grateful," he said, holding out to me a beautiful dress to wear. "You're not strong enough to be a pack leader, but anyway now you won't die useless."
Grateful.
I had never felt such pure, sheer hatred for anyone before that moment.
He had sold my future, my dreams, my right to choose, for a pile of blood money. And my mother? She was simply standing there in the doorway, silent as alw
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