The Pact Of Five

CHAPTER 1: THE CAGE**

The cage is gold.

*f*****g* gold.

Like I’m some kind of *prize* to be won. Some kind of *trophy* to be mounted on a wall and admired.

I’m not.

I’m a *f*****g* person.

And I’m *pissed*.

The silk dress they forced me into is *see-through*. Not just sheer—*f*****g transparent*. Every curve, every scar, every *f*****g* inch of me is on display for these *animals* to gawk at. The cold metal of the cage bites into my skin, the chains around my wrists *clink* every time I move, a mocking reminder that I’m not *free*.

I’m *livestock*.

And they’re the *f*****g* butchers.

The auction room is a den of *wolves*—literally. The scent of musk and sweat and *lust* is thick in the air, cloying, *sickening*. Their dark eyes burn into me, their voices a low, hungry *growl*.

*"Look at that ass…"*

*"I’d pay *anything* to break that one in…"*

*"Think she’ll scream when we—"*

I bare my teeth, my voice a snarl. *"Try it, asshole. I’ll *bite your f*****g d**k off*."*

Silence.

Then *laughter*. Dark. Hungry. *Mocking*.

A wolf with a scar across his cheek steps forward, his dark eyes gleaming. *"Feisty. I *like* that."* His voice is a growl, low and rough. *"Makes it more *fun* to break."*

I lunge at the bars, my claws extending, my voice a *hiss*. *"Come *closer*, and I’ll show you just how *feisty* I can be."*

He smirks, his dark eyes burning. *"Oh, I *will*, little omega. Don’t you worry about that."*

The auctioneer—a slick, greasy man with a voice like oil—steps onto the platform, his smile *fake*, his eyes *cold*. *"Gentlemen! We have a *rare* treat for you tonight. A *pure* omega, untouched, unclaimed… and *fierce* as hell!"* He gestures to me, his voice dripping with false charm. *"Bidding starts at 10,000. Do I hear 10,000?"*

A hand shoots up. Then another. And another.

The numbers climb, the voices a *roar* in my ears. 20,000. 30,000. 50,000.

I grip the bars, my knuckles white, my heart *pounding*. *f**k* them. *f**k* this. *f**k* everything.

Then *he* steps forward.

Tall. Dark. *Dangerous*.

His dark eyes are *black* with hunger, his jaw clenched, his posture rigid. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t *need* to. His presence alone is a *command*.

*"100,000."*

The room goes *silent*.

The auctioneer’s smile falters. *"A-Are you sure, Mr. Knox? That’s a *very* generous—"*

Knox’s voice is a growl, low and *deadly*. *"I said *100,000*."*

The other bidders *back down*, their dark eyes flickering away. No one wants to *challenge* him. Not when he looks like that. Not when he *feels* like that.

*Death*.

The auctioneer clears his throat, his voice nervous. *"Going once… going twice… *sold*! To Mr. Knox for 100,000!"*

Knox doesn’t move. Doesn’t *smile*. Just *stares* at me, his dark eyes burning into mine. *"She’s *mine*."*

The cage *creaks* as it’s unlocked, the door swinging open. I don’t move. Don’t *breathe*. Because I know—*I know*—that if I do, if I *show* even a hint of weakness, he’ll *pounce*.

And I’m not *ready* for that.

Not yet.

Knox steps forward, his dark eyes *black*, his voice a dark command. *"Come here, omega."*

I bare my teeth, my voice a snarl. *"f**k you."*

His smirk is *dark*. *Wicked*. *"Oh, you *will*, little omega. But first…"* He gestures to the cage, his voice a growl. *"Get the *f**k* out of there."*

I hesitate.

Because I *know*—I *know*—that the second I step out of this cage, my life is *over*.

And not in the way I *thought*.

Knox’s dark eyes burn into mine, his voice a dark promise. *"Last chance, omega. *Come here*… or I’ll *drag* you out."*

I take a step forward.

Then another.

And then I’m *out*—free of the cage, but *not* free of *him*.

Knox’s hand *snaps* out, his fingers wrapping around my throat, his grip *tight*, *possessive*. His dark eyes are *black* with lust, his voice a growl. *"Mine."*

I try to pull away, but his grip is *iron*. *"Let go of me, *asshole*—"*

His smirk widens, his dark eyes gleaming. *"Make me."*

And then his mouth is on mine.

*Hard*. *Possessive*. *Hungry*.

His tongue *forces* its way past my lips, his teeth *nipping* at my bottom lip, his hand *tightening* around my throat. I *hate* it. I *love* it. I *want* it.

*Fuck.*

His other hand *slides* down my body, his fingers *digging* into my hip, his touch *burning* through the flimsy silk. *"You’re *mine* now, omega. And I *don’t* share."*

I pull back, my breath *raging*, my voice a snarl. *"I’m not *yours*, asshole. I’m not *anyone’s*."*

His dark eyes burn into mine, his voice a dark promise. *"You *will* be."*

And then he *lifts* me—*effortlessly*—and *throws* me over his shoulder like I’m *nothing*. Like I’m *his*.

I *scream*, my fists *pounding* against his back, my voice a *snarl*. *"Put me the *f**k* down, you *caveman*—"*

He *laughs*. A dark, *wicked* sound that sends a *shiver* down my spine. *"Oh, little omega… we’re just getting *started*."*

And then he *walks*—carrying me like I’m *prey*—out of the auction room, out of the *nightmare*…

And into a *worse* one.

---

The night air is *cool* against my skin, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is *him*—his *heat*, his *strength*, his *f*****g* presence.

Knox doesn’t stop walking until we’re in front of a *black* SUV, its windows tinted, its engine *purring*. He *sets* me down—*finally*—but his hand stays on my throat, his grip *tight*, his dark eyes *burning* into mine.

*"You’re *mine* now, omega. And I *don’t* let go of what’s mine."*

I glare at him, my voice a snarl. *"I’m not *yours*, asshole. I’m a *f*****g* person."*

His smirk is *dark*, his voice a growl. *"And persons can be *owned*, little omega."*

Before I can *retort*, the SUV’s door *opens*, and *they* step out.

*Five* of them.

*Five* sets of dark, hungry eyes.

*Five* alphas.

And *f**k*—they’re *all* hot as *sin*.

The first one—*Zane*—is *ice*. Cold. Calculating. His gray eyes are *sharp*, his posture rigid, his voice a dark command. *"Took you long enough, Knox."*

Knox’s dark eyes don’t leave mine. *"She was *worth* the wait."*

The second one—*Jax*—is *wild*. Untamed. His gray eyes are *bright*, his smirk *wicked*, his voice a dark caress. *"Damn, brother. She’s *f*****g* perfect."*

The third one—*Micah*—is *charm*. Wicked. Dangerous. His brown eyes are *gleaming*, his voice a whisper. *"And *feisty* too. My *favorite* kind."*

The fourth one—*Cole*—is *different*. A beta, but *deadly*. His green eyes are *dark*, his posture relaxed, but there’s a *tension* in his body that says he’s *not* to be f****d with. *"She’s *bleeding*."*

I look down. *Shit.* My wrist is *cut*, blood *dripping* onto the pavement. Must’ve happened when I *lunged* at the cage.

Knox’s dark eyes flicker to it, his voice a growl. *"Micah. *Fix* it."*

Micah steps forward, his brown eyes gleaming, his voice a whisper. *"With *pleasure*."*

His fingers *brush* against my wrist, his touch *gentle*, *skilled*. The pain *fades*, the cut *sealing* under his touch. I stare at him, my voice a whisper. *"What the *f**k*—"*

His smirk is *wicked*, his voice a dark caress. *"I *heal*. Among other *things*."*

Knox’s dark eyes burn into mine, his voice a dark promise. *"Get in the *f*****g* car, omega."*

I bare my teeth, my voice a snarl. *"Or *what*?"*

His smirk widens, his dark eyes *black* with lust. *"Or I’ll *bend* you over the hood and *f**k* you right here, right now… and *then* throw you in the car."*

My breath *catches*.

*Fuck.*

I *hate* that my body *reacts* to that. That my *p***y* *clenches*. That my *heart* *pounds*.

But I *do*.

And I *f*****g* hate it.

I glare at him, my voice a snarl. *"You *wish*, asshole."*

His laugh is *dark*, his voice a growl. *"Oh, little omega… I *do*."*

And then he *shoves* me into the car.

---

The interior is *luxurious*—black leather, dark wood, the scent of *money* and *power*. But all I can focus on is *them*—the *five* alphas surrounding me, their dark eyes *burning*, their voices a low, hungry *growl*.

Knox slides in beside me, his dark eyes *black*, his voice a dark command. *"Buckle up, omega. It’s gonna be a *rough* ride."*

I glare at him, my voice a snarl. *"I’d rather *walk*."*

His smirk is *dark*, his voice a growl. *"Not an *option*."*

Zane sits in the front, his gray eyes *cold*, his voice a dark command. *"Drive."*

The engine *roars* to life, and the car *lurches* forward. I grip the seat, my knuckles white, my heart *pounding*.

Jax leans forward, his gray eyes *wild*, his voice a dark caress. *"So, little omega… what’s your *name*?"*

I glare at him, my voice a snarl. *"None of your *f*****g* business."*

His smirk widens, his voice a dark promise. *"Oh, it’s *our* business now, sweet thing. *All* of it."*

Micah’s fingers *brush* against my knee, his touch *light*, *teasing*. *"We *own* you now, omega. Body…"* His brown eyes gleam, his voice a whisper. *"…and *soul*."*

I *jerk* away, my voice a snarl. *"f**k you."*

Knox’s dark eyes burn into mine, his voice a dark promise. *"Oh, we *will*, little omega. But first…"* His hand *slides* up my thigh, his fingers *digging* into my skin, his touch *burning*. *"…we’re gonna have *fun* breaking you in."*

And then his mouth is on mine *again*—*harder* this time, *possessive*, *hungry*. His tongue *forces* its way past my lips, his teeth *nipping* at my bottom lip, his hand *tightening* around my throat.

I *hate* it.

I *love* it.

I *want* it.

*Fuck.*

And as the car *speeds* through the night, I realize—

I’m *f****d*.

But not in the way I *thought*.

Because these *alphas*?

They’re not just *buyers*.

They’re *hunters*.

And I’m the *prey*.

**END OF CHAPTER 1**