"Get up," he said, his voice still commanding, but lacking the wild growl of the night. "You need to get ready."
"Ready for what?" I asked, my voice a torn whisper.
"For your new home," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing. "This is just a suite. My home is elsewhere."
My home. The words sent a fresh chill through me.
He gestured towards a dresser where some clothes were laid out—a simple white shirt and jeans that looked like they would be my size. "Put these on. You have ten minutes."
He turned and walked towards the balcony, looking out over the city as if I were a temporary disruption whose purpose was now served.
Getting dressed was a struggle. Every movement was laced with pain. When I put on the shirt, its whiteness only highlighted the bruises on my skin—the marks of his fingers on my arms, the inner parts of my thighs. He was everywhere.
As I put on my shoes, my eyes fell on the bed. There were small, dried stains of blood on the sheets. My blood. Proof that what happened was real. I didn't look back.
He led me to the elevator, and then down to the same SUV, which began to drive us out of the city. We didn't speak. He worked on his phone, and I stared out the window, wondering if this was the last time I would see Los Angeles.
We reached an area I didn't recognize—surrounded by dense woods, at the end of a long, private road, stood a large, modern residence. It was made of glass and concrete, but there was a wildness to its design, as if it had grown straight out of the ground.
As the car stopped, he put his phone down and looked at me. His eyes were on my face.
"Every rule inside is mine," he said, his voice holding that dangerous calm again. "You will not step outside the doors. You will not use a phone. You will wait for me every night. Understood?"
I didn't answer. I just kept looking into his eyes, into that green that no longer felt so foreign. It was a familiar darkness now.
He gripped my chin. "I asked, understood?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Yes, what?" he pressed, increasing the pressure.
The rebellion inside me flared, but it was useless. "Yes... Alpha."
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his eyes. He opened the door and gestured for me to go inside.
The interior was even more intimidating. Glass walls looked out onto the woods, as if nature itself was guarding this house. The air held that same wild scent, but it was stronger here.
"This is your room," he said, pointing to a door. "It doesn't lock from the inside. Always remember that."
He turned to leave.
"Why?" The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
He stopped. "Why what?"
"Why did you choose me?" I asked, my voice still trembling, but with a curiosity that couldn't be suppressed. "Just because my mother offered me?"
He turned, and a strange smile played on his lips. "Your mother did nothing but act as a messenger." He walked back to me, his eyes tracing my face. "I chose you because your scent calms the beast inside me. Because when I look at you, I dream of breaking you and remaking you. Because you are my marked one, Julie. And you always will be."
With that, he left, and I was left standing alone in that vast, empty room, imprisoned by his words. This wasn't just a greedy bargain. It was part of something bigger, darker. And I was at the center of it. And as I caught my reflection in the glass—a broken, tamed girl—I began to wonder if I would ever truly get out of here alive.
The days were passing, and every hour felt like a form of torture. I was imprisoned in that room with no way out. The glass walls showed a view of the forest outside, beautiful yet feeling like the bars of a cage. The marks Alex had left on my body still ached—both physically and mentally.
In the afternoon, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, but I knew who it was. I answered it with trembling hands.
"Tonight," Alex's voice came through, skipping any greeting, "I will show you a truth. Be ready."
"What kind of truth?" I asked, but he had already hung up.
His words filled me with a new sense of unease. As evening fell, he returned. He handed me simple black clothes—a hoodie and trousers. "Put these on. We need to remain unseen."
We got into his car, but this time it was a different vehicle, smaller and less conspicuous. He drove me away from the city, to an area where the forest was dense and the roads deserted. The air was cool, and a deep silence prevailed. Finally, he stopped near a dilapidated, isolated bungalow hidden in the thick shade of the trees.
"Stay quiet," he whispered in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. "And whatever you see, don't make a sound."
We moved around to the back of the bungalow. Light came from a window, and voices could be heard inside. Alex led me to the window and silently gestured for me to look inside.
The sight that met my eyes stole my breath.
My mother, Caroline, was standing in the middle of the bungalow, but she was utterly different from the mother I knew. Her face held a wild, unrestrained ecstasy. Her clothes were torn, and she was surrounded by three hulking men. They were all naked, their bodies scarred like Alex's. Their eyes held the same animalistic gleam. Alphas.
One pulled her hair and forced her to her knees, while another stood in front of her. The third was taking her from behind, muffling her every cry with a deep, satisfied growl. It wasn't pleasure. It was a degrading, violent, and filthy spectacle. And my mother... she was enjoying it all. Her eyes were half-lidded, her face twisted in perverse satisfaction.
Then, one of the Alphas spoke, his voice a deep growl, "Why did you hand Julie over to that Alex? We have a claim on her too!"
My mother lifted her head, a cunning in her eyes I had never seen before. "I was forced to do it! To expand my business! Otherwise, I was preparing her for you. Her softness, her freshness... it was all for you. Alex is an animal! He forced me!"
Hearing this, the ground seemed to slip from under my feet. Alex grabbed my arm, steadying me. There was no surprise in his eyes, only a deep, cold hatred.
I couldn't watch any more. I pulled myself away from the window, my heart pounding, a bitter taste in my mouth. My own mother... not only was she with them, but she had planned to hand me over to them as well. She was cursing Alex, while the real animals were inside.
Alex led me back to the car. As we drove away, he spoke, his voice softer now, but laced with a deep pain, "Your mother is a Luna. A woman who sustains herself on the energy of Alphas. She would have offered you to them as a tribute if I hadn't taken you first. I only saved you from them."
I kept looking at him, tears in my eyes, but now they were not of anger or fear, but of a deep disgust and betrayal. "You... you saved me?"
"Yes," he said, his eyes on the road. "Maybe not in the right way. Maybe I broke you. But if you were in their hands... your soul would have died. Do you still not prefer me?"
I didn't answer. But something inside me had shifted. The man I thought was a monster was perhaps my protector. The mother I loved was the real demon. The wall of fear and hatred I had for Alex had developed a crack, and from that crack, a new emotion was sprouting—a complicated, tangled, but genuine attraction. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I truly was his. And perhaps, that was the only thing that was right now.
---
The journey back was like a flat, black river—deep and silent. The horrific image from the bungalow and my mother's words kept replaying in my mind, but now they were intertwined with Alex's statement—"I saved you." That thought was filling me with a strange sense of peace.