Hated and His to Claim

Chapter 2

IVY

Alpha Vladimir’s words—"You will do as I say"—still echoed in my ears as a shiver traveled down my spine. I swallowed hard, his touch lingering like a bruise seared into my memory.

Without a word, he turned and left. The sound of his boots on the floorboards a physical blow, each thudding step a weight pressing the air from my lungs. I just remained there, my heart hammering a wild rhythm against my ribs, like a bird suddenly freed in a cage too small to fly.

What was that strange sensation? That tingling that had swept through me when he touched my chin—was it fear? Hatred? Or something else entirely?

I didn’t have time to make sense of it.

The man in black, still inside the burning room, stepped closer. Unlike his Alpha, he hadn’t turned to leave. No—he was here to carry out the order. To take my unconscious mother and me away like sacks of grain.

My stomach twisted in dread.

I couldn’t let that happen.

My eyes flicked to the weapon at his side. He was armed. If I could just get the gun… I could shoot, escape with my mother. Maybe, just maybe, we had a chance.

Before I could second-guess myself, I moved forward with all the desperation burning inside me. I kicked the man in the crotch with all my strength. He groaned in pain, doubling over. Quickly, I lunged for the gun—but his hands caught mine in time.

Before I could twist away, he slammed me backward. Pain exploded in my abdomen as he delivered a brutal kick, knocking the air from my lungs.

I collapsed to the floor, gasping and curled in on myself.

More footsteps.

Rough hands grabbed me and forced me face-down on the ashen floor. My arms were wrenched behind me, and something cold and metallic wrapped around my wrists.

Then came the burn.

A searing sting shot through my skin like acid.

Silver.

I bit back a scream, hissing through my teeth. The silver cuffs sizzled against my skin, eating into my flesh like fire. My entire body trembled—not just from the pain, but from the helplessness.

They hauled me to my feet.

I was too weak to struggle, too bound to fight. My chest heaved, and my eyes blurred from pain and smoke.

Through my haze, I saw them carry my mother—roughly, like a ragdoll. Her head lolled to the side, her limbs limp.

"Please, be gentle with her!" I cried out.

One of them sneered. The others didn’t even look at me.

My wrists burned. My heart bled.

We were being led through what used to be our home—our territory—now reduced to rubble and ash. The air stank of ruin and defeat. Houses had crumbled; windows shattered. Lifelong enemies now marched us through the debris of our memories.

Cuffed pack members stumbled ahead and behind, their expressions hollow. These were the same wolves who had tormented us—spit on my mother and me, mocked us in the markets, thrown stones at our heads just because we’d been cast down.

And now, they were prisoners like me.

Their Alpha had fled with his mistress and the golden daughter he adored. The same Alpha they’d praised to the stars—gone without a backward glance.

They deserved this.

But I was no better. I was bound just like them, dragged by strangers from an enemy pack. My pride scorched under the same silver as theirs.

So much for dignity.

My mother’s years of strength, the sacrifices she’d made to protect me, meant nothing now. Everything she endured had brought her to this—enslaved and unconscious, dragged like a hunted animal.

Eventually, we were shoved into the back of a truck. One of the guards tossed my mother onto the floor like she was dead weight. I scrambled to her side, catching her before her head hit the steel.

I held her close, my voice trembling as I whispered, "I’m here, Mama. I won’t let them take you alone."

She didn’t respond.

The tailgate slammed shut behind us with a metallic clang. I looked around.

More familiar faces.

More prisoners.

And then... I saw her.

One of the women who had once led the charge against my mother. The same one who had spat on us as we were dragged through the pack square weeks ago.

Now her hair was messy, her eyes swollen. She dropped to her knees in front of me, shackles clinking.

"Ivy," she sobbed, clasping her hands together. "You are the Moon Goddess’s last descendant. You have to save us. Please."

Before I could reply, another woman—this one bolder—cut in with her voice raised, "You have a duty! You’re the only one who can lead us now! Reclaim the pack!"

I stared at them.

Was this some twisted joke?

I clenched my fists, feeling the burn of the silver deepen.

So that was all I was to them? A symbol? A puppet to lift up and throw away at their convenience?

My lips curled into a bitter smile.

"You didn’t think about that," I said through gritted teeth, "when you stoned my mother. When you laughed as they humiliated us. When you opened the doors wide for the woman who replaced her and her precious daughter."

I took a breath, fury boiling under my skin.

"You watched as we were stripped of everything. You let it happen. You enjoyed it. And now, you want me to save you?"

I shook my head slowly. "Even if I had the power to stop this, I would rather stand back and watch the Mancini behead each and every one of you."

Gasps rippled through the truck.

Eyes widened in horror.

I turned away.

I didn’t care. Let them suffer. Let them feel a sliver of what we had felt all these years.

I turned to my mother and clutched her hand tighter, reminded again of her pain, of what she had endured because of me.

If I ever got the chance to rise again…

They would all remember the day they accused me and caused us this much pain.