My triplet alphas version two

I’ll pretend until I become it

Day 20

I don’t know what’s harder to live with—what they do to us, or not knowing how far this nightmare stretches. Amber says she doesn’t know how many levels there are in this underground hell. Just that there are too many screams to count.

We’ve never been taken up top—only dragged deeper. But something changed today. They grabbed me rougher than usual, dragged me through corridors I’ve never seen, until a steel door opened and I saw her.

Ellie.

She was four floors above mine, in a tiny room with a barred window, clutching a teddy bear that wasn’t hers. She looked so small and confused. But alive. I wanted to scream her name, but they shoved me back before I could say a word. I’ll never forget the way her eyes flicked toward the door, like she felt me. Like she knew her mother was near.

They didn’t let me hold her. They only showed me that she was still breathing.

And then they dragged me back.

Day 22

They’re using me again. Not just for their own sick pleasure, but to set examples. If another girl speaks up, I’m the one they beat. If someone doesn’t comply, they hurt me. I take it—every bruise, every lash—so the others don’t have to.

I think some of them hate me for it. Maybe it makes them feel weaker. But some… some cry and mouth “thank you” through the bars. That’s enough to keep me breathing.

At night, I’ve started tearing little pieces from my rations—bread, meat, anything—and hiding them in the folds of the oversized shirt they gave me. I tuck them under the cages when the guards aren’t watching. If it keeps one girl from passing out… it’s worth it.

Day 24

Amber whispered tonight. Her voice cracked like dry leaves as she told me a story that sounds like a fairytale. She said she has brothers—triplets. Alphas. Of something called the Blood Moon Pack. She said they’ll come for her. That if I stay close, they’ll come for me too.

Werewolves.

I didn’t believe her at first. Who would? But then I remembered the silver on the bars. The way some of the girls blister if they touch it. The way the guards avoid wearing anything metal themselves.

What if it’s real?

Amber doesn’t know why we’re here. She doesn’t know who these people are or what they want. But her eyes burned with certainty when she said, “They’re coming.” I believe her.

Day 26

They tortured me again. Hours of it. I lost track of time. I lost track of screams.

And then Carl came.

I’ve heard his name whispered before—always with fear. He’s different from the guards. They look at us with lust. He looks at us like property.

He smiled when he saw me broken on the floor. He crouched down and whispered that he was the Alpha’s son, and I would give him what he wanted—or he’d go four floors up and take it from my daughter instead.

I didn’t fight when he touched me. I screamed, but not for help. Just to keep from collapsing.

Day 29

I woke up in my cage, sticky with blood and shame. I didn’t cry. I won’t give them that.

Amber passed me half a piece of stale bread through the side bars. I didn’t ask how she got it. We don’t ask each other those kinds of things here. I held it in my hands and stared at it like it was a treasure.

In this place, kindness is a rebellion.

Day 30

I told Amber I would keep fighting. That I’d keep taking the punishment if it means even one more girl survives. She nodded slowly. “You’re stronger than you know,” she whispered.

I don’t feel strong.

But I’ll pretend until I become it.