Chapter 3 Marked by the Alpha

Looking past Beta Kieran, I spot her clinging to a statue of herself at the bottom of the stairs.

Blonde hair falls in careless waves, green eyes sharp, calculating, measuring. She sways as she moves toward Trey, like a predator unaware she's being watched. I can't help but recall Liora's reaction yesterday. When I'd asked Trey about his mate, her whole body had stiffened, taut with fear.

She was scared of this woman. Something about her made Liora flinch, and I wanted answers.

"Take her, Alpha Kael. I'm sure she'll serve you as well as she serves us." Her shrill voice cuts through me like glass. "Look at the pathetic thing she's going to pass out." The blonde laughs, cruel and hollow.

"You don't get to speak about her like that," I snap, glaring. "She's not your toy, not your slave. Alpha Trey, I suggest you keep your mate in line. I won't tolerate any more disobedience."

"DISOBEDIENCE!" the woman screeches as Liora hits the floor. "How dare you! If anyone's disobedient, it's that rat in the corner!" Rat? I growl silently, teeth clenched. Who the hell is she calling a rat?

"You should familiarize yourself with our agreement," I snap. "Seems your mate didn't tell you everything." I wave Eric forward. From under his arm, he pulls a thick wad of paper the contract I'd drawn up.

"All of this for your help?" His mate's eyes widen.

"I don't do half-baked contracts." I shove the paper into Trey's chest. "Office. Now."

Trey leads, his mate clutching him, Beta following behind. My men trail, while I hang back, watching Liora. "You're more than welcome to join us you're part of this deal. Or... my car is outside. You can pack and wait."

She murmurs, eyes low. "Those are my only options?"

"For now. Honestly? Sit with us. Nothing will irritate your brother's mate more." Her blue eyes stay fixed downward, fingers clutching her bag like it's life itself. The closer I get, the clearer it is: she's fragile, heart slow, fighting to stay alive.

"So, what will it be?" I ask.

"I... I..." Her head tilts between the door and the office. "I... I guess the office."

"Good choice." I offer my hand. She ignores it.

Wobbly, but upright, following her. I catch the glares she earns from Trey and the others as she steps into the office.

"Take a seat," I whisper, brushing her lower back.

She freezes, rigid, eyes darting.

"Sit!" I repeat, louder. "She doesn't have that privilege here!"

The blonde sneers, amused. "Sitting isn't a privilege."

I growl, scanning for bruises, evidence. None visible. Small relief. Aero paces in my head. He wants her out of this chaos as much as I do. The blonde recoils, shocked I spoke.

"And I suggest," I glare at Trey, "you tell your mate to keep her mouth shut or I'll do it for you."

Alpha Kael interrupts, calm, commanding: "You want my help, yes?" The room seethes. No one likes being told what to do. But here, they are. I point to the empty chair between Jenson and Eric.

She sits, hesitantly.

"Let's finish this," Trey snaps. "The sooner she's gone, the better."

"You should read the contract," I mutter.

'Agreed,' Eric murmurs. They sign without reading, throwing the papers back. "Done," Trey mutters.

"Good. Get her out." His mate screeches in protest.

If I had my way, I'd take Liora now and leave the idiots behind. But the contract is ironclad they can't reclaim her. I rise, hand extended.

"Come. We're leaving before I lose my temper."

Her fingers slip into mine. Her other hand clutches her bag to her chest. She doesn't glance back, confirming my suspicion: she hates them as much as they hate her. At the open door, she hesitates, staring at the limo. "Come." Eric and Jenson flank her, curious, alert. She looks like a deer in headlights tiny, frail. Skin and bone. My hands trace the outline of every rib. Sickening.

She should be strong, powerful, Alpha blood surging through her veins. Her face scrunches as I measure her. Not fear. Pain. She hides it beneath a baggy maid's dress.

"I know you want to say something. Just say it.

I'm not interested in Trey's garbage. Speak freely. Are you injured?"

"No." Lies. I can feel it. A lock of black hair slips from the band meant to hold it. She's protective, starved, hardened. He'll pay for what he did.

"You must speak, Liora. When I mark you, I'll know what you feel."

"Mark me?" Her eyes widen, disbelief written across her face.

"Yes. I will mark you." She's shocked. Pink lips parting, hesitant, cautious. I thought she knew

that was why she'd submitted so easily. My Beta questioned me, uncertain. Her scent is strange... intoxicating. My wolf Aero hungers for her too, frustrated I didn't bring her yesterday.

"You... brought this to mark me?" She steps back toward the kitchen island, wincing, then forcing composure. If Trey had read the contract, he'd know: she is my bride, not a slave. Any interference, she becomes ours mine. I never bought her. Liora was always destined to be mine.

"I'm a murderer," she whispers. "Why would someone like you want me as a bride?"

Aero growls, cutting through my thoughts. Blood.

Vulnerability. Power.

I glance down. Baggy dress, a new blood stain where I touched her. "Injured?" I demand. Barely touched her.

"Nothing. A cut. I knocked it. It opens. I forget it's there." Forget? Impossible. Aero panics. Less than two hours, already injured. No healing. Binding.

We must reverse it soon.

"Show me."

"Fine," she mutters.

"Not optional. If you refuse, I will see for myself."

Her heart skips. "Can we go somewhere private?"

"Private?" I scoff. Wolf logic. She keeps focus slightly averted, afraid of my gaze.

"Office," Aero mutters.

"Perfect," I snap, motioning toward the door. She follows. The scent of blood intensifies. Already worse than a simple cut. Inside, I drop the blinds.

Sunlight retreats. Hesitant, she begins unfastening her dress... only near the large bloodstain. Everything else remains hidden. Four inch wound, infected, painful.

"See? It's fine," she whispers.

"Stop saying that." I grab her hands, spotting more bruises. "Let's check the rest." No options. Fingers tear buttons. Sports bra, panties worn. Bruises everywhere. Whip scars. Hip bones, ribs protruding. Turning her, pulling the dress down her back... nothing above chest, nothing below thighs.

Arms bare. Only one reason: hide abuse, hide appearances. Guests cannot see. Planned for months. She fumbles, pulling dress tight, thin frame revealed.