Chapter 3.
1563 Words
The heavy front door closed behind him with a soft, definitive thud.
For a moment, silence held the hall once more. Then, it was broken by Richard’s long, relieved exhale.
“Done,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together.
“It is done.”
Lycril drifted toward Freya, her earlier venom replaced by a cold, dismissive satisfaction.
“You heard the Beta,” she said, her voice flat.
“Be at the door at first light. Do not make us look foolish by causing a scene.”
Amanda sniffed, looking Freya up and down with sheer contempt.
“At least we’ll finally have some peace without your wretched shadow darkening our home.”
Enzo merely smirked, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement.
Freya said nothing. She felt numb, hollowed out. The storm she had braced for had not come with shouts or blows. It had come in quiet words and a binding gaze. It had come in the form of a tall, commanding stranger who had looked at her and seen not a person, but a settled term.
She was no longer just the price.
She was now the purchased.
The candlelight in the hall flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. Richard poured wine into Beta Xavier’s goblet with trembling hands. Though he smiled, though his words dripped with honey, Freya could hear the sharp edge of desperation beneath his tone.
“You see, Beta,” Richard began, “our family has always respected the Northridge Pack. When… unfortunate circumstances befell us, your Alpha was generous enough to lend a hand.”
Xavier sipped his wine, his gaze steady and unreadable.
“A hand,” he repeated, his voice slow and deliberate.
“You mean a loan.”
Richard’s laugh was brittle.
“Of course, of course. A loan. But surely you understand that times were difficult. Crops failed, traders abandoned the routes, and debts piled higher than the roof over our heads. Without your Alpha’s generosity, we would not have survived.”
Lycril leaned in, her jeweled fingers brushing Richard’s arm as though urging him to steady himself. Her smile was practiced and flawless.
“And we are ready to make good on our promise, Beta. My husband is a man of his word. We do not go back on what we owe.”
Xavier’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained impassively calm.
“Then you know why I am here. The Alpha grows impatient. The debt was due last season. Your lands, your coin, your livestock—none of it was enough. So the Alpha will collect what he was promised.”
Freya’s brow furrowed from her shadowed corner. What was he promised?
Richard’s grin widened, too quick and too eager.
“Yes, yes. As agreed. You shall have her.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell like a blade through the air.
Lycril chuckled, her voice light and mocking.
“Imagine, the Alpha listening to that old healer. Claiming an omega—our omega—will bear him pups strong enough to strengthen his lineage. The very idea! We nearly laughed ourselves sick when we heard it.”
Richard shook his head, chuckling darkly.
“A wolfless, pitiful thing like her? Hah. But if the Alpha wants to waste his time, who are we to question him? At least she finally proves useful. Debt repaid, and our family’s honor intact.”
Amanda smirked from her place near the doorway, her eyes glittering with cruel amusement. Enzo leaned back in his chair, arms folded, a sneer playing on his lips.
Freya’s chest tightened. She couldn’t fully grasp the meaning, but every glance, every laugh, every cruel smirk twisted her stomach into knots. What healer? What do they mean, “have her”?
Xavier set down his goblet with deliberate calm.
“The Alpha does not tolerate delays or mockery,” he said softly, though the weight in his tone silenced the room instantly.
“Whether you believe in the healer’s words or not is irrelevant. What matters is that the debt is repaid in full, as promised.”
Richard bowed his head quickly, his false grin still plastered on his face.
“Of course. Of course.”
Lycril’s lips curled.
“Shall we present her to you now?”
Xavier’s gaze shifted—not toward Richard, not toward Lycril, but toward the shadows where Freya stood. His eyes met hers for the first time, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Bring her forward,” he said.
---
Lycril’s hand clamped around Freya’s wrist, dragging her into the harsh circle of light. She stumbled, her knees growing weak, her face burning as every eye turned toward her.
“There she is,” Lycril announced with a mocking sweetness.
“The child who caused me endless headaches. Always clumsy, always bruised from her silly games. But she will do, won’t she?”
Freya’s lips parted, confusion and shame flooding her entire being. Why are they showing me off like livestock?
Xavier’s gaze traveled over her, slow and assessing. Freya felt stripped bare beneath it. He saw what her family tried to hide—the faint scars etched along her arms, the bruises half-concealed beneath her sleeves, the thinness of her frame from too many missed meals.
Lycril’s laugh was brittle.
“Oh, those? Don’t mind them. She was always falling when she played as a child. Careless thing, isn’t she?”
Xavier’s eyes flicked briefly to Lycril, his face unreadable. He did not call her out, but Freya felt it—a silent disbelief that hung in the air between them.
He said nothing.
Instead, he rose from his chair, his movements fluid and commanding.
“It is settled,” he declared.
“The Alpha will accept this as repayment. The bargain is fulfilled.”
Richard’s shoulders sagged in visible relief. Lycril’s smile turned triumphant, her eyes glinting with victory. Amanda and Enzo exchanged smirks, their expressions dripping with cruel satisfaction.
Freya’s heart pounded violently in her chest. Fulfilled? What bargain? What are they doing?
Before she could form a single word, Lycril shoved her lightly forward.
“Go on, Freya. Be grateful. You finally get to be of use to this family.”
Her words were venom disguised as sweetness.
---
Outside, the night air was sharp with the scent of pine and horses. A sleek black carriage waited, flanked by stoic riders bearing the Northridge crest.
Freya’s body moved on instinct, her mind too dazed to resist. Each step toward the carriage felt heavier than the last, as if she were wading through thick mud.
Richard and Lycril followed behind, smiling and proud, as though they had just secured the most profitable trade of their lives. Amanda and Enzo lingered in the doorway, their eyes gleaming with mockery.
When Freya turned her head slightly, she caught Amanda’s smirk, the exaggerated wave of her delicate fingers. Enzo’s sneer cut deeper than any whip.
It was triumph. It was victory. As though casting her away was their greatest success.
Xavier opened the carriage door and gestured inside.
“Get in.”
Her legs shook violently, but she obeyed, clutching the edge of her dress as she climbed up. She sank into the plush seat, her fingers twisting the fabric in her lap, her breaths shallow and ragged.
From outside, she heard Richard’s voice, thick with glee.
“Our debt has been repaid at last. May the Alpha find her… satisfactory.”
Lycril’s laugh chimed in, cruel and sharp.
“Oh, he will. And we? We are finally free of her burden.”
The words sliced into Freya’s chest. She pressed a hand against her heart, but it did nothing to dull the visceral ache.
Xavier climbed in beside her, his large presence immediately filling the small space. He gave a sharp nod to the driver, and the horses surged forward. The wheels creaked as they began to roll down the dark dirt road.
Freya clutched her hands together tightly, her knuckles turning white. Her voice trembled as she dared to break the crushing silence.
“W-what… What’s happening? Why am I… where are we going?”
Xavier’s gaze lifted to hers, cold and unwavering. For a long, suffocating moment, he said nothing.
The silence itself crushed her. Finally, his lips parted.
“You will understand when we arrive.”
The chill in his tone froze any further question. She pressed back into the seat, her heart hammering against her ribs. Fear, cold and slick, clawed up her throat, threatening to choke her.
Outside, the world blurred past—the familiar trees, the fields she had secretly played in as a child, the fading lights of the only home she had ever known.
Inside, Freya’s mind raced. She was leaving everything, yet she wasn’t free. No—she was being delivered. Handed over.
She stared down at her hands, at the faint scars etched into her skin. For years, she had longed for escape, for someone to take her far from the cruelty of her father and Lycril.
But not like this.
Not as payment. Not as property.
As the carriage carried her deeper into the unknown darkness of Northridge territory, Freya realized the terrifying truth. Whatever fate awaited her, she would face it utterly alone.
And when they reached their destination, nothing would ever be the same again.
- Writer
