Chapter 4:
Captive
Ethan
I stared up at the two men standing over me, my bladder screaming like I was about to wet myself right there on the marble floor. Alphas? What the hell did that even mean? Gang leaders? Drug lords? My heart hammered so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. Every bruise from last night pulsed in rhythm with the fear climbing up my spine.
That guy—the bald bastard who'd dragged me here—grabbed my arm and yanked me up. My legs shook, barely holding me, but he didn't care. He handled me like a broken toy, his grip bruising.
Before I could even get a word out, the one on the left—the guy with the scar across his cheek and eyes so pale they looked carved from ice—moved. He didn't walk; he lunged, quick and sharp. His hand clamped around my arm, yanking me against his chest. I hit him hard, my face pressed into his shirt that smelled faintly of leather and something else I couldn't place—something that made my head spin.
My palms pushed at his chest, trying to shove him off, but I froze. My body didn't move. There was this strange pull, like gravity had shifted and I was stuck there. Warmth wrapped around me, wrong but… safe. I didn't understand it.
He chuckled, low and deep, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Easy, little one."
The other man, who had been leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded—finally spoke. His voice was smoother, calm but edged with steel. "Rex," he said. "Explain."
Rex straightened immediately. "Alpha," he said quickly. "Got payment from that old lady down on Elm—Widow Jenkins. Owed fifty grand. She said she was done paying cash. Offered him instead." He jerked a thumb toward me. "Clean. Unmarked. Figured you'd want a look first."
The scarred one—laughed once, short and harsh. "That stupid woman. She's never been good for anything. Always begging, always short." His gaze dropped to my wrists, where the edge of my sleeve had slipped up.
Shit.
He stepped closer and caught my arm before I could hide it. The fabric pulled back, exposing old scars—thin, pale lines I'd left there on nights when Mom's words got too heavy to carry.
His eyes darkened. "What the hell is this?"
I yanked my arm back fast, my heart thudding. "Don't touch me!" My voice cracked, but I didn't care. "Who the hell are you? Why am I here? If my mom owes you money, I'll pay it! I swear I'll pay every cent, just let me go!"
The scary other guy face changed—colder, sharper. He stepped closer until his breath brushed my skin. "Do I look like a man who wants your money, pup? Look at me."
I backed up a step, trapped between the other one and Rex. My throat tightened. "I don't know what you want! You kidnapped me! Just—just tell me what this is!"
His hand came up toward my jaw, but before he could touch me, the other man—Dean—stepped forward and caught his wrist midair. "Enzo," he said quietly. "He's terrified. Stop. Give him space."
Enzo stared at him for a long second, then suddenly laughed—deep and loud. "Me? And I thought I was the calm one." He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. "Look at you, Dean. Acting all protective already."
Dean released his wrist, giving him a small smirk. "Someone's got to keep your temper in check." Dean's expression softened slightly, but the authority in his voice was absolute. He looked down at me. "Come. Let me take you inside. Get cleaned up."
He gripped my arm firmly, pulling me away from Rex and leading me down the hallway. The guards simply stood aside. My legs felt like rubber as I stumbled beside him.
Dean shoved open a tall wooden door and pushed me through.
The room looked like it belonged in another world. A huge bed with black silk sheets dominated the space. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, glittering above polished floors. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and one corner opened into a bathroom glowing faintly with warm light.
Dean pushed me onto the bed. The mattress sank under my weight.
He looked me over for a moment, then surprised me by reaching out and brushing his fingers through my tangled hair. His voice dropped low. "Pretty," he said softly, tilting my chin up to examine my face. "Real pretty. We're gonna love you."
I jerked away so fast my neck snapped. "Don't touch me!"
He smirked, straightening up. "Relax, kid. You'll learn the rules soon enough. I'll send a doctor—get those bruises checked, maybe stitches. You'll get food too. But don't try the door. I don't like runners."
He turned toward the exit. Desperation surged through me. "Wait! Please—please, sir. Let me go home. I'll pay the debt. I can work three jobs if I have to!"
He paused at the door, his hand on the knob. For a second, I thought he might actually listen. But when he spoke, his voice was cold enough to freeze the air.
"Say the word home again, and I'll cut your tongue out." He didn't even look at me when he added, "You're not going anywhere. Ever."
The lock clicked behind him.
The silence that followed felt like a slap.
I sat there for a few seconds, staring at the door. Then my body gave up. I slumped back on the bed, my chest heaving. The air felt heavy, pressing against my lungs. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.
Tears burned my eyes. I curled into the pillows, shaking, my breath breaking into small gasps. My body hurt, but it was nothing compared to what was clawing at my chest.
Sold. My own mother sold me.
To Alphas.
Whatever the hell that meant.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming. The warmth from earlier—when Dean grabbed me—still lingered like a curse. I hated it. I hated that part of me didn't feel fear at that moment. It felt… drawn. Wrong.
I forced myself to look around. The room was beautiful but empty, the kind of beauty that felt like a cage. The bed was too soft, the walls too clean, the silence too perfect.
There were no windows I could reach, only tall panes of glass sealed tight behind heavy curtains. The only door out was the one Dean had locked.
Trapped.
I hugged my knees to my chest, burying my face against them. My body shook again, small sobs breaking free no matter how hard I tried to stop them.
Why me?
First Dad's death. Then Mom's hatred. And now this.
No matter how much I tried to escape my life, the world always found a new way to chain me down.
I looked toward the door, half expecting someone to burst in again, but the room stayed still.
My eyes stung, my throat raw. Eventually, exhaustion dragged me down. I leaned against the headboard, staring at nothing, listening to the sound of my own heartbeat echo in the quiet room.
All I could think about was that strange heat when Dean touched me—how it made me stop breathing for a second. I didn't understand it. It scared me more than anything else tonight.
I wasn't safe here.
And I wasn't sure I ever would be again.