Chapter One

2 years.

That’s how long it’s been. 2 years since my soul had been sold to the devil. 2 years since my parents abandoned me and my pack sold me to the demons they swore to protect me from. 2 years of pain, suffering, and praying for death. Of course, my wishes were never complied with, but that’s just my life, I suppose.

The endless motion of the broom by my feet distracts me from my impending doom, sweeping away my tears with dirt and grime. I’m not supposed to be crying, but I can’t help myself. The dust is drifting to my eyes, torturing them and making me weep. I’m not usually a crier. I’ve been taught to keep my emotions to myself and not bother anyone with them because that’s the easiest thing to do. It keeps me safe, and away from my Alpha’s whip.

There are footsteps approaching the kitchen. They sound like heels, I think. They’re loud and obnoxious, and the pool of dread that’s been stirring in my stomach rushes to my heart. I clutch the broom tighter to my chest and keep my eyes down. If I meet their eyes, I’ll start laughing, I know, and if I start laughing, it won’t end well for me.

Two girls enter the room, and just by their shoes, I immediately recognize them. They’re Darcy and Amanda, the Luna’s daughters. I suppress a groan. I find them so annoying and irritating, but they take just after their father, the Alpha. Spoiled, bratty, and so overly irritating, although the Alpha would kill me if he knew I said that about his two favorite daughters…well, maybe not kill me, since he “needs” me, I guess.

“Did you make brunch yet, Anvi?” Darcy asks, butchering my name so badly that I almost don’t realize that she’s calling me. I hesitate to look up from the floor, trying to keep my mouth from trembling. Once I’ve composed myself, I look up into her dark blue eyes, her lips twisted expectantly.

“Well, Anvi?” She snaps.

“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter. “Would you like your tea hot or cold?”

“Cold, as usual,” Darcy says.

“I’d like mine hot,” Amanda commands, sitting on one of the chairs. She steps into the pile of dirt I’ve created, smearing the mess around the floor I spent nearly an hour cleaning.

“Oops, sorry,” she says, but she doesn’t really sound sorry.

“That’s…okay,” I grit out, handing them their food. As I set the mugs of tea beside them, Darcy lets out a loud, unladylike screech, startling the cup from my hand and smashing it onto the ground.

“You gave me the wrong tea, you bitch!” She screams, shoving me back. I stumble back against the counter, falling on my bottom, and both Darcy and Amanda glare at me, their eyes glowing.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, although, just like Amanda, I’m not really sorry. They and their overly bleached hair deserve it, but again, I can’t say that either, no matter how much I really would like to shove reality into their faces.

“You should be, you ungrateful girl!” Darcy screams, sticking her tongue out. “Look what you did!” She points to her tongue, which is only slightly reddened. “I can’t feel my tongue anymore! What if you burned off my taste cells?”

“Taste cells?” I repeat, frowning. “Ma’am, I-!”

“What’s going on here?” Alpha Banastre’s commanding voice booms through the kitchen and immediately, my blood runs cold. Darcy and Amanda both smirk victoriously at me.

Alpha Banastre has been my Alpha for 2 years. He bought me from my old pack, and I’ve never liked him. I have good reason to. He’s extremely unkind, not only to me but to his wife and pack. If anything, the only people he loves are his daughters. He doesn’t even show any compassion for his son, his heir.

Alpha Banastre is a tall man – maybe seven or eight feet. I haven’t met anyone taller than that yet, and doubt I ever will, but his height is only part of what makes him so frightening.

He has these dark blue eyes, just like Darcy and Amanda, but they remind me of a blade. They aren’t icy, but they radiate this cool, calm before the storm aura that scares the shit out of me, excuse my language. He’s pretty pale but has a touch of color, and his hair is all brown and spiky. He never smiles, and always seems to find a way to punish me, even if I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m nothing but a slave to him, which is illegal under Alpha law, but Alpha Banastre doesn’t care. He’s good at hiding me from the inspectors that visit every year and takes the most of pleasure in testing his torture devices on me. I’ve had many chances to kill him, but I’ve only held back for the sake of my life and my Luna, Hailey. If she wasn’t his mate, chances are that Alpha Banastre’s body would’ve been buried in a ditch by now.

“Anvi did it, Daddy!” Darcy wails, pointing to the broken glass in front of my sprawled frame. It seems that all of a sudden her tongue isn’t burning anymore. “She heated up my tea when I told her that I specifically wanted it cold on purpose! She burned me, Daddy, and she broke the glass!”

“Yes!” Amanda adds, even though I haven’t done anything to her. “Who knows what she could’ve done to me? She could’ve burned my tongue too, Daddy! She did it on purpose!”

“What? No, I didn’t!” The words blurted out of me before I can stop them, and internally, I smack myself. Alpha Banastre stops gazing at his daughters and turns slowly to me. I gulp. His eyes have darkened and he’s giving me a look I’m all too familiar with. It’s the same look he’s given me every time he’s ready to beat me up – that same cool, calculated stare that lets my heart and stomach know that I’m in deep trouble.

“Speaking without permission and intentionally harming my daughters?” Alpha Banastre clicks his tongue, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Darcy and Amanda smirking at one another, scampering out of the room. I hiss a curse at them under my breath, but when Alpha Banastre takes a step closer to me, I quickly mask my expression, hoping he didn’t see my glare.

“I-It was an accident, sir,” I mumble, looking down. “I didn’t intentionally give my lady the hot tea, sir.”

“And speaking?” Alpha Banastre asks.

“T-That was an accident too, sir,” I stammer, swallowing thickly. My heart is pounding quickly. It’s hard to breathe, he’s getting closer. “I…I wasn’t able to control myself…”

“Hm…” Alpha Banastre is quiet for a few moments, thinking. I make the mistake of looking up at him, thinking that he’s about to leave, when he grabs me by my neck, slamming me back against the countertop.

I almost yelp, but don’t. Making any sound will only tick him off even more – I’ll be indulging him in his torture, and he knows that. He presses my neck tighter, hoping to force a sound out of me, but I’m used to his methods of pain by now. I know that if I just stay quiet, he’ll leave me alone.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought, but it seems that Alpha Banastre is feeling cruel today (honestly, though, when is he not?) He slams me again against the counter, and this time, my head hits the cabinet. It’s so sudden that I scream, writhing in shock, and that’s when I know that I’ve made a mistake. I’ve submitted to his authority, and that’s my mistake.

He smirks. He also knows what I’ve done, and he knows that I know what he’ll do to me now that I know. My heart just about stops.

“Please…please, Alpha…” I beg, helplessly hoping that there’s a shred of empathy left in him, but when I see his eyes glint and completely morph over into the jet-black color he’s so fond of, I realize that it’s of no use. The story continues to use the same ink. I try to stay strong, he tricks me, I beg, and he hits me. It’s never going to change.

This is my life, I think, curling into myself as the blows come. Blood splatters out of my nose and dribbles down my chin, dampening my shirt. It’s the same, depressing thought that comes to me every time this happens – every time I think I’m going to die. Sometimes, I wish I could. I wish I could just leave and go to my parents, but I can’t. Alpha Banastre needs someone to torture, and he knows how to keep me alive just enough that I can continue to be that punching bag. He keeps anything I can use to kill myself away from me and if I need to use them, it has to be under supervision.

“There,” he kicks me in my stomach one last time, unmoved as the blood trickles out of my mouth. The pain from his beating numbs me, just barely allowing me to breathe, but just as always, I’m still alive. I’m like a ragdoll. No matter how many times you rip its arm, you can always stitch it back on. That’s Alpha Banastre’s way of thinking when it comes to me.

“Maybe now you’ll finally begin to consider doing your job right and controlling that pathetic mouth of yours,” he hisses, glaring down at me. His wolf has given up control, but that does very little to change Alpha Banastre’s temperament. His fangs are bared at me as I look up, bleary-eyed, from the pool of blood I’m drenched in.

“Y-Yes Alpha,” I manage to say, coughing. Alpha Banastre stares at me for a moment longer, pensive, then kicks a shard of the glass I broke closer to my face.

“Good,” he growls. “Now clean this mess up and yourself and go help my wife get ready for the ball tonight. We’ll go over the rules in the car later.”

“I-I’m c-coming with you, sir?” I ask, pulling myself up with all of the strength I have left over. I keep my gaze centered on the red brooch Alpha Banastre has clipped to his tie. I won’t look into his eyes – I’m not in the mood for a second beating today.