Sold to my stepbrother Alpha

Ariana pov Ariana— Age 7 I crouched behind a wide tree trunk, pressing my back against the bark as I tried to steady my breathing. I counted softly under my breath…One, two, three…then I ran from my hiding spot, sprinting through the underbrush as fast as my small legs could carry me. As a werewolf, I was already stronger and faster than a normal human. As a beta, I was even more powerful than most wolves my age. Still, I knew I couldn’t outrun him. “You know I’ll always catch you, little sister,” Kael’s voice called out behind me, in a warm and teasing manner. I laughed, the sound breathless but bright as I pushed harder, leaping over a fallen log. “Not if I make it to the stream first!” His answering growl was playful, but it still sent a chill down my spine…the good kind. Protective, powerful, and undeniably Alpha, even back then. Within seconds, I felt the rush of air before strong arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me clean off the ground. I squealed, kicking and squirming, but I was laughing too hard to put up a real fight. “I win,” Kael said smugly, spinning me once before setting me gently on the grass. “No fair! You always win,” I pouted, crossing my arms. He crouched beside me, his silver-blond hair catching the sunlight like threads of moonlight. “Because I’m stronger,” he said, tapping my nose with his finger, “and faster.” “And older,” I added grumpily, though my grin betrayed me. Kael smiled, but there was something in his eyes that made my heart flutter. It wasn’t just mischief…it was fierce and protective, like I was the most precious thing in his world. He ruffled my curls, his touch gentler than anyone else’s ever dared to be. “You’ll be strong too, Ariana,” he said quietly, his voice low and sure. “Stronger than anyone.” “Now let’s get you a bath. You stink,” Kael said with mock disgust as he lifted me into his arms again. “I can walk,” I protested, squirming. “I know you can,” he said, tightening his grip just enough to keep me from wiggling free. “But you don’t have to when I’m here.” I giggled, burying my face in his shoulder as he carried me back through the woods toward the pack house. His scent was familiar…pine, leather, and something uniquely Kael. I didn’t have the words for it then, but I knew it always made me feel safe. The sun was just beginning to dip behind the treetops when the house came into view, warm golden light spilling from its windows. “Children!” our mother called from the balcony, her voice melodic and warm. “Were you being naughty again?” Kael laughed, the sound deep and carefree. “No, Mother!” I grinned up at her from Kael’s arms, still breathless from play. Her smile softened. Kael nudged me with his chin. “See? Told you I’d always find you.” And somehow, even at seven years old, I believed he always would. We were happy. For a while. Until that night. I don’t know why I woke up. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was a dream I couldn’t remember. All I knew was that I sat up in bed, clutching the teddy bear Kael had given me, and something felt wrong. The house was too quiet. I climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway, dragging the teddy by one paw. My feet were cold against the marble floor, and each step felt louder than it should have. I reached the kitchen first. It was dark. Then I saw the light under the doorway to the sitting room, all the guards were absent. Pushing it open, I stopped breathing. Kael stood in the center of the room, pale and trembling. And at his feet…was Mother. Her throat had been torn open. Blood soaked the floor around her, her red hair spread out like a dark halo. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Empty and Gone. I dropped the teddy bear. The sound echoed like thunder in the silence. Kael turned slowly to look at me. His eyes were wide. His hands were stained red. “I… I didn’t…” he whispered. Just then, Father appeared behind me. His hand landed heavy on my shoulder. “What did you do?” he asked, with a voice cold and sharp as a blade. “I didn’t—” Kael choked out, stumbling back toward Mother’s body. “I swear I didn’t… Father, please believe me.” But Father’s eyes didn’t waver. “Guards!” he roared. Kael’s eyes locked with mine…one last time. Then, with a sharp breath, he turned and leapt through the sitting room window. Glass shattered. The wind howled through the broken panes. And he was gone. That was the last time I ever saw him. Present day “Is the weirdo crying again?” “Hey. Hey, wake up.” Slap. The sting snapped me out of sleep. My eyes flew open. I sucked in a sharp breath, my hand flying to my cheek. It burned…another reminder of where I was. Again. It must’ve happened while I was dreaming. That dream. Always that dream. The one I couldn’t seem to escape. The one that started the day my family shattered. The day my mother died. The day Kael disappeared. The day Father stopped loving me. “Get up and make yourself useful, you little slut,” barked the head servant, her voice sharp enough to slice through the fog in my mind. I flinched but said nothing. I never did. Not anymore. Dragging myself off the thin cot, I stood on bare, blistered feet. The stone floor was cold. My limbs ached from the chill, from exhaustion, from the countless punishments carved into my bones. I had been reduced to nothing. Not a daughter. Not a wolf. Not even a girl. Just a servant in my father’s mansion. Ever since that night…the night…my life had become a hollow thing. When I found my mother’s body and Kael standing over her, blood smeared across his hands… everything crumbled. And when Father entered the room and saw it too, saw him, he didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate. He called the guards. And Kael ran. That was the last time I saw my brother. The last time I saw hope. After that, Father changed. His love died with her. Whatever warmth he once held for me had long since rotted into suspicion, then contempt. I reminded him too much of her…of the betrayal, the whispers, the madness he claimed had taken his mate. And so, I became the embodiment of everything he hated. Stripped of name, title, voice, and dignity, I was tossed down to the bottom rung of the packhouse, just another servant among dozens…but worse. Not even a servant. A cautionary tale. The servants had always resented the nobles, but now I was worse than any of them…a broken noble they delighted in tearing down. They took cruel pleasure in making my life harder, as if each added insult and hardship fed their bitter hatred. I scrubbed floors until my knees ached and my fingers split open. They gave me rags too thin for warmth and food too spoiled to keep down. When I made a mistake, I was whipped. When I cried, I was choked silent. “Don’t bleed on the Alpha’s floor, freak,” snarled one of the male servants as he kicked the bucket away from me, dirty water splashing across my bruised arms. “Or I’ll make you lick it up.” I didn’t look at him. I’d learned not to. “You think you’re still better than us, huh?” another woman spat as she yanked my hair back. “Still holding onto your princess dreams, little mute?” I didn’t struggle when she shoved my face into the water bucket. I didn’t make a sound when she held it there too long. I just waited. Waited for it to be over. A guard passing by chuckled. “Let her go. We still need her alive. Someone’s paying good coin for that mouthless body.” The woman laughed cruelly and released me. I coughed and gasped, water dripping from my face, my lungs burning…but I stayed on my knees. “You know,” one of the older maids whispered later, voice low and thick with amusement, “they say you’re going to be sold soon.” She leaned in close, the smell of onions and rot clinging to her breath. “Wouldn’t that be a mercy, huh? At least then someone might find a use for you.” She circled me slowly, eyes hungry for a reaction. “Even now, you won’t say anything, huh?” Her fingers dug into my cheek, forcing me to look up. “What’s worse is that you still act like you matter.” I didn’t. Not anymore. They didn’t know. They didn’t understand. They hadn’t seen their mother’s body sprawled lifeless on the kitchen floor. They hadn’t heard their father’s voice…once warm…filled with ice and accusation. They hadn’t been dragged from satin sheets to moldy straw, or silenced with bruises for daring to scream. They hadn’t been cursed with remembering a time when they were loved. I was a ghost in my own home. A burden, a blemish, a wound they all wanted erased. And still, somehow, I lived. But her words….sold…coiled in my chest like a viper. Maybe it would be a mercy. Maybe.