Page 17 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

I have to stay calm. I can’t show fear.

But it was easier said than done. The vampire took a step closer, his crimson eyes locked on Wren. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you… much.” His smile widened, revealing a set of sharp fangs that gleamed in the dim light.

Wren’s stomach twisted in fear, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to let him see how terrified she was. She bared her teeth, feeling her wolf stir beneath her skin. "You'll never take me willingly," she snarled.

The vampire laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that echoed off the cell walls. "Nobody is ever taken willingly, little wolf. If you know what's good for you, you'll start behaving. We put down rabid dogs."

A growl rumbled in Wren's chest, her wolf pushing closer to the surface. She had been struggling for so long, fighting against the mindlessness that came with being a rogue. Memories of her family, of better times, had kept her grounded. But now, faced with this new threat, she felt that control slipping.

The vampire's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "We've been watching you, you know. A lone wolf with no one to miss her. How long before you lose yourself completely, I wonder?"

Watching me? At the shack before I left?

Wren's heart raced, fear and anger warring within her. "I was fine," she spat. "I am fine."

"Oh yes," the vampire mocked. "You've held on longer than most. But your time is up, little wolf. Your mind is slipping, and soon you'll be nothing more than a mindless, blood-lusting animal. We're simply... expediting the process."

He paused, his gaze narrowing as he studied her. “You’re braver than most, but bravery won’t get you far in here.”

The vampire’s smile faded, and his expression grew serious. “You’re in a dangerous place now, little wolf. You’re no longer free, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”

Before Wren could respond, a massive figure appeared beside the vampire. The new arrival was easily seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms thick as tree trunks. His scent was musky and wild—a werebear.

The werebear stepped closer, towering over Wren with a build that seemed to be made of pure muscle. His eyes were dark, almost black, and his expression was one of grim determination. He didn’t speak as he stepped forward, but the way he moved, with a predatory grace that belied his size, made Wren’s heart skip a beat.

The vampire gave the werebear a curt nod before turning back to Wren. “It’s time.” His voice was cold, devoid of any of the earlier amusement. “Try not to struggle too much. It’ll only make it worse.”

Without a word, the werebear reached into the cell and grabbed Wren. Wren’s mind raced as she was pulled from the cell, the werebear’s grip on her arm like iron. She kicked and screamed, her nails elongating into claws as she fought against his hold.

"Let me go!" she yelled, twisting but two backhand hits, one to the top of her head and another to her cheek, and she stilled as the werebear carried her down a dimly lit hallway.

She fought the rising tide of panic, forcing herself to focus on her surroundings. The corridor they walked down was dimly lit, the walls lined with cells similar to the one she had just left. She could hear the faint sounds of others—whispers, sobs,the clinking of chains—but she forced herself not to think about them.

They reached the end of the corridor, where a heavy door loomed before them. The werebear pushed it open, revealing a room that was stark and clinical, with a large stone slab in the center. The air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh and something else—something dark and magical that made Wren’s skin crawl.

A petite woman stood next to a blazing fire, her hands moving in intricate patterns over a glowing brand. The witch—for that's what she must be—looked up as they entered, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Even from a distance, Wren could feel the power radiating from her.

The witch turned as they entered, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light. “Place her on the slab,” she ordered, her voice as cold as the stone beneath Wren’s feet.

The werebear obeyed, lifting Wren as if she weighed nothing and laying her on the slab. She tried to lunge away, but the bear's massive hand clamped down on her shoulder, holding her in place. The witch began to chant, her words ancient and filled with dark power.

"What are you doing?" Wren demanded, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound brave. "What is that?"

The vampire sauntered into the room, his mask glinting in the firelight. "You're quite noisy," he observed casually.

"No!" Wren screamed as the witch approached, the brand sizzling with heat and magic. "Stop! You can't—"

Her words cut off in a scream of agony as the brand pressed against her flesh. White-hot pain seared through her,and Wren felt a wave of magic wash over her. Something inside her shifted as if chains were wrapping around her very soul.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt before; it was as if her entire being was being torn apart, piece by piece until there was nothing left but agony.

The pain didn’t stop; it spread through her, burning through her veins until it reached her heart. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The witch stepped back, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she surveyed her work. “It is done,” she said, her voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

When the pain subsided to a dull throb, Wren found herself on her knees, gasping for breath. The room spun around her, and she barely registered the werebear removing her shackles.

Why... why are they freeing me?

---