Page 14 of Alpha Chained

I keep my jaw clenched and turn my eyes forward, staring fixedly ahead of me. This time, when he strikes me, I yelp. Warm blood gushes from a gash in my cheek, where it grinds against the edge of my teeth. I gulp, trying not to gag as I feel it trickle into my throat.

“Don’t think I won’t keep doing this, girl.” He strokes a fingertip over the cheek he just slapped. “I know what you animals are like. The bruising will fade in a matter of hours. And if something gets broken, like, say, a finger…or a wrist…” He heaves a big sigh. “That may take a couple of days.”

“Well, then, I have nothing to worry about, do I?” I tilt my chin and lock eyes with him. His expression shifts again.

When his arm swings up, I angle my head and point at my cheek. “There you go, Franklin. Shall I make it easy for you? X marks the spot, right?”

When his hand moves this time, it’s not to hit me. He grabs my jaw instead. His fingers bite into my flesh as he turns my head to face him.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” His breath is hot on my face, and even though it’s minty, there’s still an underlying stench to it. I try to pull my head back, but he holds fast. “There are other ways of loosening a tongue, Raura.” His grip is bruising as he stares into my eyes. “And they don’t have to involve damaging the goods.”

Releasing my face abruptly, he stands. “Guards!” he calls out. The door swings open immediately, and the same two men stride in. “Take her back to her cell,” he says, then looks back at me. “Let’s see how much your attitude changes after a few days without food.” He pats me on the shoulder, the way an affectionate uncle might, and then heads out the door, leaving me with the guards. I keep my head held high as they grab my upper arms and try to march me to the door.

I won’t let him break me.

I won’t.

Chapter 7

Riot

She looks broken.

It’s been three days since that first moment our eyes met, and she’s been dragged out of here each day since then.

What the hell are they doing to her?

She’s not like the others – the ones who come in and then leave shortly after…the ones they sell. In the beginning, I felt sorry for those ones. Now, there’s a part of me that almost feels envious. At least there’s something else for them out there…whatever that may be.

For me, there’s just this: these bars, this solitude…broken only by the times they drag me out to kill someone or allow me to train. I guess I’m grateful I managed to negotiate that; my daily sessions outdoors have given me a break from the monotony in this place. So, I’ve been out beyond the walls – going through my training routine, a daily run in the sun…or the snow. I don’t care. It’s the fresh air on my skin that I crave.

Sometimes, they take me away from here completely. Up in the air in one of the helicopters, soaring for a while, where I can pretend that I’m not a captive. Until we land at some distant fight club, and it begins again – the killing, the bloodlust shared by Parker and his kind.

Undefeated.

Parker’s undefeated champion. His Beast. That’s what I am.

I don’t give a fuck anymore.

I watch her silently. She’s barely aware of me, staring blankly at the back wall of her cell. It rips at my fucking heart. Each day, I see a little more of the fight seep from her. Some days, she’s come back bruised and bloody; today, her shoulders were cowed, dark circles beneath her eyes.

“Hey!” A guard’s sharp voice snatches me from observing her. I turn my head. “Grub’s up, champ.” He yanks open a small window in the door to my cell and shoves a tray through it. My mouth waters. I can’t help it. I’m like Pavlov’s dog.

Parker’s fucking dog.

I prowl to the door, one eye on the guard, who steps away, putting distance between us. I don’t know why. It’s been a long time since I ripped anyone’s arm through there.

“Relax.” My voice is rough from disuse. “I’m not going to eat you. Today.” I give him a grim smile, baring my teeth as I chuckle darkly.

He visibly blanches, putting more distance between us. I don’t recognize him, so he must be new.

Poor fucker.

I turn my back and focus on my food. The plate is piled high with half-raw steak. To one side, there’s a mound of greens in a bowl—a vague attempt at a balanced diet for a creature designed to live on pure protein. A jug of cold water is set beside the plate. It’s the same meal I’ve had three times a day for the ten years I’ve been here, and there are days that I long for something else. Still, it’s better than the scraps they throw to some of the other inmates.

Setting the tray on the small table in the corner of my cell, I pull up my chair and reach for the knife and fork that I insist that they provide for me. I refuse to eat with my hands the way they way expect me to. I’ve clung to each small piece of humanity left in me, and this is one of them.

Cutting a slice of rare beef, I put it into my mouth and chew slowly, savoring the flavor. It’s the best cut available. A treat for Parker’s favorite pet. The thought makes my lip curl, but I swallow it down and cut another slice.

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