Claimed by the Silverfang Alphas

SOLD ~TATE'S POV~ "Dear Mr. Osborne, I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into our early action program here at Westwood University of Law….." Jamie's voice cracks with excitement as he reads from the letter. "Oh my God, Tate! You got in! Congratulations!" My best friend bounces on his toes, vibrating with joy, but I struggle to process his words. The acceptance letter trembles in my hands like a lifeline I'd been drowning to reach. "I don't believe it," I whisper, then louder, with a laugh bordering on hysteria: "I f*****g got in!" "Yes, girl! Now you escape that toxic hellhole you call home." Jamie's protective fury blazes in his dark eyes—the same look he's worn since we were kids whenever someone tried to hurt me. "Two more weeks," I murmur, allowing myself a genuine smile for the first time in months. "Two more weeks and I'm free." Jamie's expression softens. "I still don't understand why you're torturing yourself by staying with them. My family would take you in a heartbeat—Mom considers you her third child already." "I'll manage." I glance at my watch, watching precious seconds tick away. "I have to get to work. See you tomorrow." Before he argues further, I bolt from the school. Autumn air stings my flushed cheeks as I rush toward the bus stop. My name is Tate Osborne. At eighteen, I've already lived through more hell than most people face in a lifetime. Three months ago, my father died in a car accident. Since then, my world has crumbled into a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. My uncle Tommy and his wife Sally swooped in like vultures, playing the grieving, caring relatives while the funeral flowers were still fresh. But the moment the last mourner left, their masks slipped completely. The house my father built….the sanctuary where I had grown up surrounded by his love—became my prison overnight. Aunt Sally banished me to the cold, damp basement, claiming my old bedroom for storage. I became their unpaid servant: cooking, cleaning, working part-time to help cover bills that weren't my responsibility. Uncle Tommy's justification? "No free rides under my roof." What he conveniently ignored was that this roof belonged to my father, bought and paid for when he married my mother—the woman who died bringing me into this world. Tommy might be my only living relative, but that didn't give him the right to treat me like hired help in my own home. He had played the devoted brother while Dad was alive, but grief strips away pretenses. Now his bitterness burned bright and ugly, as if my very existence was a personal offense. But I had an escape plan. In exactly fourteen days, I would board a bus to Massachusetts and start fresh at Westwood University. I needed to survive until then. "Need a ride?" Eve asks, locking up Murphy's Diner where I'd been pulling shifts since school started. Her voice carries its usual warmth—a stark contrast to the chill settling over our small town. "Thanks, but I'll walk. It's not far, and I need the air." The twenty-minute walk home is my only comfort these days, the one pocket of peace where I breathe without someone barking orders at me. But peace shatters the moment I reach our front porch. "Where the hell have you been?" Aunt Sally's voice cuts through the evening air like a blade. She stands in the doorway, arms crossed, her face twisted in familiar irritation. "Working my shift at the diner," I reply evenly, though my stomach clenches with familiar fear. "I need you to come with me. Holly's at a friend's house and needs picking up." Her tone brooks no argument—not that I have any choice in the matter. I follow her to the beat-up sedan, unease prickling at my spine. Something feels off. Holly is fifteen and perfectly able to get herself home, especially since her friends live in town. But questioning Sally's logic has never ended well for me. We drive in suffocating silence, tension thick enough to choke on. After an hour of winding roads, Sally turns onto a narrow dirt path that disappears deep into the woods. Ancient trees press in from both sides like silent guards, their shadows growing longer and more threatening as daylight fades. When we finally stop, my breath catches in my throat. A sprawling mansion looms before us, all dark stone and towering windows that seem to watch our approach. But it's not the charging architecture that makes my blood run cold—it's the group of men standing guard at the entrance. They are massive, built like warriors, with an aura of barely contained violence that makes my skin crawl. Their eyes—cold, calculating, predatory—sweep over me like I'm livestock at auction. "Is this the girl?" The largest one steps forward, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through my bones. "Yes." Sally's response is immediate, clinical. No hesitation. No emotion. The man's lips curve into something that might have been a smile on anyone else but looks purely menacing on his scarred face. "The Twins will be very pleased." Ice floods my veins. "What twins? What's going on?" "Bring me my daughter," Sally demands, ignoring my question entirely. Holly appears from the shadows, rushing to her mother's side. She looks unharmed but terrified, clinging to Sally like a lifeline. The sight should relieve me, but my panic only intensifies as two of the men move to flank me. "What the f**k is happening?" I back away, but there's nowhere to go. The leader's expression remains impassive. "Your uncle and his wife collected a rather substantial debt with our Alphas. When we took their daughter as collateral, she graciously offered you as a replacement." His tone is conversational, as if discussing the weather. "Since you have no other family to object, the arrangement was accepted." The words hit me like physical blows. "They don't have the right! This is kidnapping!" "I'm afraid the transaction is already complete." His smile turns cruel. "You belong to the Silverfang Pack now. Consider yourself property until your uncle's debt is satisfied." "Get away from me!" I lunge backward, but iron-strong hands clamp down on my arms, lifting me effortlessly. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, little one," the man says, hoisting me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. As he carries me toward the mansion, a woman's voice echoes from inside, sharp with curiosity: "What's all the commotion out there?" "The Twins said I could teach her a lesson," the man replies, his voice dripping with sadistic anticipation. He hauls me through the mansion's grand entrance, past marble floors and crystal chandeliers that blur together in my panic. Finally, he kicks open a door and hurls me inside an empty room. I hit the hardwood floor hard, my palms scraping against the unforgiving surface as the door slams shut behind us with bone-chilling finality. Panic floods my system like ice water. I scramble to my feet on shaking legs, my back pressed against the far wall as he stalks toward me. His eyes hold a hunger that makes every survival instinct I possess scream in terror. "Are you going to rape me?" The words tumble out in a whisper so quiet I'm not sure I spoke them aloud. His face twists with disgust. "I would never defile myself with pathetic human filth like you." Before I feel relief, his fist crashes into my face with crushing force. The effect sends me sprawling across the floor, white-hot pain exploding through my skull. My vision fractures into kaleidoscope fragments as my ears begin ringing like church bells. I'm still reeling when his boot connects with my stomach, driving every molecule of oxygen from my lungs. I curl into a protective ball, choking and gasping as tears stream down my battered face. He looms over me like a predator savoring a kill, his eyes cold and utterly merciless. "I'm going to show you exactly how worthless you are," he growls, each word a death sentence wrapped in malice. And in that moment, as his shadow falls across my broken form, one terrifying certainty formed in my mind: I'm not going to survive this.