Page 22 of Alpha's Fated Flame

Even prisoners were allowed to use the toilet. This guy was treating me like the animal he believed me to be. Oh, if only he knew he hadn't exactly captured a real, functioning werewolf. I was just an omega who had never been around enough alphas to trigger her wolf.

The van came to a sudden stop, and I lurched forward on my face onto the dusty floor filled with suspiciously sticky substances. I gagged through the tape. My hands were useless to brace me from the fall.

The van's sliding door opened with a rusty screech. I turned my head to the side as best as I could to see what was happening.

The man appeared in the opening, holding up a flashlight, a slobbering grin on his face. He looked as if he had captured a prized fish or hunted a large stag. He was looking through me, notatme, which made this whole thing even creepier. He had already dismissed me as a lesser creature than him in his mind.

"Okay, okay, next we have to get it into the barn," he muttered gleefully as he checked over the tightness of my ropes. I watched him with horrified eyes.

What the hell was about to happen to me?

Satisfied, he grabbed me by my bound hands and started dragging me out of the van. I hooked my bound feet onto the door and silently screamed through the tape. I wiggled, trying to escape his grasp.

He grunted, "Dumb bitch!"

He let go, breathing heavily through his nose, and slanted his piggish eyes angrily. He pulled out a heavy wooden bat from under the seat and quickly smashed it onto my right kneecap.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream, muffled almost completely by the tape. I went limp; the pain horrific. It felt like my leg was snapped in two. Tears streamed down my face.

He giggled to himself and continued dragging me out of the van. I hit the pavement, sharp stones digging into me. I barely registered that pain. My leg was an all-consuming fire of hurt.

I was dragged down a long driveway. Eventually, we reached the barn door he was muttering about earlier. I silently screamed the whole way there. My shattered kneecap was scraping against the pavement with every step he took.

He searched his grimy pockets for the key, found it, and inserted it into the lock with his stubby, sweaty fingers. The door opened, revealing a dismal room filled with random piles of hay. I could only see a couple of feet further than the doorway. The rest of the room was shrouded in shadow.

The stench of old blood and rotting carcasses hit me in the face.

I shuddered. I could not see in the dim light where the stench was coming from or whether it was emanating from all around.

The man pushed me inside and grabbed the thick iron shackles that were mounted onto the wall. He didn't bother removing the ropes from me and clamped the shackles wherever he could. And without another word, he scurried out and slammed the door shut, engulfing the room in darkness.

At first, I could see nothing. The darkness of the room and the blinding pain in my leg made me oblivious to my surroundings.

But then, slowly, my eyes started adjusting. The pounding in my leg faded into a dull, constant throb in the background, matching the ache in the back of my head. Tiny rays of light trickled in through the small gaps of the slats in the walls and ceilings. I could tell where the room began and ended.

I could also make out some misshapen lumps strewn about the room.

I pulled on the shackles and found I had some slack to maneuver somewhat without jostling my leg. Bracing myself with my forearms, I dragged myself to the nearest lump. At first, I could not process what I was seeing, then I tried so hard to scream with horror through the tape covering my mouth. But only grunting noises came through.

It was a werewolf, or what was left of him. A pile of distorted, broken limbs, fur, and skin. There were missing pieces and parts, but the body was mashed together like a broken puzzle set.

I quickly dragged myself back to my original spot, sobbing.

That's it. This is where I die.

A brutal, slow, torturous death. All alone. I closed my eyes for a long time, imagining myself anywhere but here. More than anything, I wanted to be back with Kayden and his pack. Living with them and having their babies sounded like paradise compared to where I was now.

I was so goddamn stupid for taking off like that.

Warm, yellow sunshine made its way through the gaps in the slats, warming my face and calming my thoughts. I opened my eyes. For a minute, I could believe that everything was okay. Sunlight had a way of cleansing the bad and making you think only of the good.

But even the sunlight was not enough this time to erase the horror I was in. My stomach no longer rumbled. I was accustomed to the lack of food now. I felt dizzy from the pain and weakness in my body.

As if on cue, the barn door opened, and the horrible man slithered in. He still wore the stained, dirty clothes he had on from the first time I saw him. I guess hygiene wasn't as important to him as torturing werewolves.

I almost let out an inappropriate snort.

He had in his hands a doggie bowl of water. My eyes were drawn to it. My tongue felt heavy and thick in my fuzzy mouth. I needed it so badly. He placed it down in front of me, just out of reach. He also laid out the tool belt he had wrapped around his waist.

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