ALPHA DRAGOV

The first blow shook the entire house. The wooden walls groaned as if they were about to collapse around us. I froze, the basket of freshly chopped herbs slipping from my hands and scattering across the kitchen floor. Another crash. Louder this time. Dust drifted from the ceiling. My heart lurched into my throat. “They’re here,” my father whispered. I looked up sharply. He stood in the doorway, pale as death, his trembling hands hanging uselessly at his sides. For weeks, he’d been pacing the house long after midnight, drinking himself into a stupor and staring out the windows as though expecting ghosts. Now I knew what he’d been waiting for. A third crash splintered the front door clean off its hinges. Heavy boots thundered across the floorboards. Men. Big men. Armed. Their black coats glistened with rain, silver wolf insignias stitched into their sleeves. The Dragov Syndicate. My pulse hammered. “Where is Ivan Orlov?” one of them barked. My father stepped forward before I could. “I-I’m here.” The leader looked him up and down with cold amusement. “The Butcher of the North has waited long enough.” I frowned. The Butcher. Even children knew that name. Alpha Dragov. The ruthless Pakhan who ruled both the Bratva and the Northern Wolf Territories. The Alpha who built his empire on blood. The Alpha no one dared challenge. “You owe our Alpha more than money,” another man said. “I know,” my father croaked. “I’ll pay.” “With what?” “The house.” “No.” “My land.” “No.” “My livestock.” “No.” Every answer chipped away at the last shred of hope inside me. Our house was practically empty because my father had sold almost everything to pay off his endless debts. The land,livestock and everything else he had mentioned was a lie. We owned nothing now even the house ,he had sold it a long time ago . Now we were paying rent to the man he had sold it to. The soldiers didn’t even glance at what little we owned. Whatever debt my father had buried us beneath… It couldn’t be paid with possessions. The leader took one slow step closer. He looked at my father as if he already knew how this was going to end for him. I watched him carefully ready to defend my father even though I knew he probably deserved whatever was coming to him. “Alpha Dragov has grown tired of waiting.” My father’s breathing became ragged. “I’ll find the money.” “You’ve had three years.” Silence. Then… His eyes found mine. Something cold settled in my stomach. No. No. No. His gaze lingered. Not with love. Not with guilt. Calculation. “I have one thing left.” My breath caught. “Dad…” He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. His voice cracked as he spoke. “My daughter.” The room spun. Even the men were a little shocked but this wasn’t the first time a man had sold his daughter to them. There were stories of many girls that had been given away to Dragov. “What?” “Take her.” Every sound disappeared. I stared at the man who had taught me how to hunt. The man who used to tell me that one day I’d become the greatest warrior our village had ever seen. The man who promised no one would ever own me. Now… He was handing me over. Like I was nothing. “Dad…” My voice broke. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. “It has to be you.” I laughed. A broken, disbelieving laugh. “It has to be me?” “They’ll kill us both.” “So you’d rather they take me?” His silence answered. Something inside me shattered. “I trained every day because you told me strength mattered.” He lowered his head. “You told me warriors never kneel.” His shoulders trembled. Still… Nothing. “You lied.” The words tasted like poison. “I was always just another thing you owned.” One of the soldiers stepped toward me. I moved first. My hand wrapped around the kitchen knife lying beside the chopping board. The closest man never saw it coming. The blade sliced across his forearm. He roared. Another lunged. I ducked beneath his arm and drove my elbow into his ribs before kicking the back of his knee. He crashed to the floor. The room erupted into chaos. “Grab her!” I ran. A hand caught my sleeve. I twisted free. Someone reached for my waist. I slammed the handle of the knife into his jaw. Blood sprayed across the wooden floor. For one glorious second… I thought I might actually make it. Then a powerful hand fisted in my hair. Pain exploded across my scalp as I was yanked backward so hard my feet left the ground. The knife slipped from my fingers and clattered across the floor. I screamed and clawed at the hand tangled in my hair, driving my nails into skin. The man cursed. “Little cyka(b***h)!” I lashed out, my boot connecting with another guard’s stomach hard enough to force him back a step. “Enough!” Two more men seized my arms. I fought like a woman possessed. I kicked. Bit. Twisted. Thrashed. Nothing stopped them. They dragged me toward the shattered doorway. Rain lashed against my face. The cold air burned my lungs. I turned one last time. My father still stood exactly where I’d left him. Watching. Doing nothing. “DON’T!” I screamed. “Please!” He closed his eyes. That hurt more than the betrayal itself. I stopped fighting. Not because I had given up. Because I finally understood. The man I had spent my entire life trying to make proud… Had already chosen. And it wasn’t me. I lifted my chin and stared at him through the rain. “You didn’t sell your daughter today.” My voice was quiet. “You buried her.”