Sold To The Ruthless Werewolf King

1

Emily

The air in the room felt cold, like something terrible was about to happen.

My father stood there, tall and distant, looking at me as if I were a stranger. Beside him stood Aunty Clara—my mother's "best friend." She was wearing a smile that didn't reach her eyes, a smile that looked like a hunter watching a trapped animal.

"Emily," he said. "This is your new mother, Clara."

The words didn't make sense at first. I heard the words, but I couldn't make sense of them.

"My new mother?" I repeated slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You heard him correctly," Aunty Clara said, her voice sharp and amused at the same time. She turned to my father, her hand resting possessively on his arm. "Or is she deaf, Lucas? Did your daughter lose her hearing along with her mother?"

Dad didn't defend me or even flinch. He just stared at me with cold, judging eyes. "I don't know," he muttered. "Luna never mentioned it."

Luna.

My mother's name rolled off his tongue so carelessly, as if she were just a footnote. Like she hadn't been the woman who built this family.

My gaze shifted slowly from my father to Clara and finally settled on Anna.

My best friend.

She stood slightly behind her mother, arms crossed, her face unreadable. I stared at her, hoping for some sign—a shake of her head, a look of apology—anything that would indicate she had nothing to do with this.

But there was nothing.

The girl looking back at me had her mother's eyes tonight. They were cold and settled.

I let out a broken, bitter laugh. Who was I fooling?

Anna was Clara's daughter before she was ever my friend. And Clara had been my mother's best friend in life, which apparently meant she felt entitled to step into everything my mother had left behind. Her home. Her husband. Her daughter.

"Anna."

"How dare you say my name with that filthy mouth!" Anna screamed. She lunged forward, her hand swinging through the air.

Slap.

My head snapped to the side. My cheek burned, but the pain in my chest hurt worse.

"From today on," Anna hissed, leaning into my face, "I am your master. And you are—"

"You are nothing!" I roared. Before I could think, I swung back. My hand connected with her face so hard that she stumbled. "How dare you enter my mother's house and talk to me like that!"

I felt my inner wolf, Amy, stirring. I wanted to shift, to let my claws tear through this lie. But I forced her down. They weren't worth the effort.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dad thundered. His voice shook the walls. "How dare you lay a hand on my daughter!"

"Your daughter?" I choked out, tears finally stinging my eyes. "What about me? I'm your blood!"

"You are no daughter of mine when you act like a wild animal," he snapped. "Apologize to your sister. Now."

Sister.

"Does the Alpha know how you behave at home?" I asked, keeping my voice even. "Because the way you carry yourself in this room does not match the Beta title you wear."

I let my eyes move around the space slowly before bringing them back to him.

"But then again, you were never truly a Beta, were you? You were an Omega who got lucky. My mother was the Beta. You just walked into her bloodline and borrowed her rank."

Everything happened fast after that.

Something slammed into me—his power, his hands; I couldn't tell—and then I was flying backward across the room. My body crashed into the far wall with a force that knocked the air out of my lungs. I slid to the floor. White-hot pain exploded through my ribs, my back, my shoulders, everywhere at once.

A scream tore out of me before I could stop it.

I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn't hold me up.

Why won't they hold?

I was Beta blood. I was stronger than this. My father was an Omega—I should have been able to stand up and face him without flinching. So why did my limbs feel like wet cloth? Why wasn't the pain fading the way it should?

Father walked toward me slowly.

"Surprised?" Aunty Clara's voice floated over his shoulder. She drifted across the room as if she were already the mistress of this house.

She rested her hand on his arm and looked down at me with a mix of pity and pleasure. "You can't figure out why you're so weak. Why your 'Beta blood' isn't saving you?"

"What did you do?" I gasped, coughing up blood.

"Wolfsbane," she said with a smile. "In your food. It was easy, really."

Wolfsbane.

"How—" My voice cracked. "How long?"

"Long enough," Anna responded, stepping forward to stand beside her mother. "Long enough that your wolf can barely breathe."

I felt sick.

Every meal. Every drink. Every smile across the dinner table. All of it calculated. All of it poison.

"I hate you!" I screamed, the pain in my ribs making it hard to breathe.

Father's hand shot out and grabbed the front of my clothes. He pulled me half off the ground and hit me.

The pain was beyond anything I could describe. I heard myself scream. I heard the sound echo off the walls of the home I grew up in.

"Stop," I gasped. "Please—stop."

I had never begged before in my life. But as I felt my body failing, I knew that if this continued, I wouldn't survive. My wolf couldn't protect me, and I couldn't protect myself.

So I swallowed every ounce of pride I had left, and I begged.

"Don't listen to her," Anna's voice rang out. "Don't stop, Father."

He flung me again.

The wall met my body a second time. I collapsed and lay still, breathing in short, broken pulls, my face pressed against the cold floor.

Anna stepped over to me, grinding her heel into my knuckles slowly, watching my face as she did it.

I screamed.

"You are a slave now. My slave. Say it."

I said nothing, making her press harder.

"Say it."

"I'm your slave now."

She laughed so hard before she finally let me go.

"Stand up," Aunty Clara said from across the room. "Go to the kitchen and cook. If the food isn't ready soon…" She let the sentence hang there before she added, "You'll find out what real pain feels like."

They left together, the sound of their laughter trailing behind them and disappearing down the hallway.

And then silence.

I don't know how long I lay there.

The silence stretched on, lasting long enough for the sound of their footsteps to fade completely and for the tears on my face to dry without me even realizing I had cried.

I moved one hand. Then the other. I pulled myself sideways until my back found the wall, and I sat against it, knees drawn up, breathing carefully so my ribs wouldn't scream at me.

My hand was shaking so badly I could barely look at it. I grabbed my wrist with my other hand and held it steady.

'Amy.'

I reached inward, searching for my wolf.

'Amy, are you there?'

A beat of silence. Then, faint and far away, like a voice coming through water:

'Emily...' Her voice was a tiny, pained whimper in the back of my head. 'I'm here... but I'm so tired. I can't fix this yet.'

'It's okay,' I whispered to her. 'Just rest. I'll survive.'

I closed the link gently. I would survive.

"Slave!" Clara's voice shrieked from the dining room. "Where is our dinner?"

I couldn't walk. My legs wouldn't hold my weight. So I reached out with my trembling hands and gripped the floorboards. I dragged my broken body toward the kitchen, inch by inch, crawling through the dust of the home that used to be mine.

I would serve them for now. I would play the slave. But I would not break. As long as I was breathing, I would wait for the day the wolfsbane wore off. And when it did... they would pay for every drop of blood I left on this floor.

***