Chapter 4 Alpha's Choice

Issa froze. Did they just say strip? Her mind recoiled. She looked around at the other women. Some hesitated, their eyes wide with terror, but a few, utterly defeated, were already starting to pull off their worn clothes. They moved like automatons, showing no resistance whatsoever. It was clear they had lost all hope. They know it's pointless, a cold voice whispered in Issa's mind. One by one, they began to shed their rags, their thin clothes falling to the dirt.

Humiliation burned Issa's cheeks, a fire against the icy grip of fear. Her heart pounded frantically. She copied the others, her hands shaking so violently she almost couldn't unbutton her tunic, then her trousers.

She stood naked under the flickering firelight, exposed to the cold night air and the countless predatory eyes of the werewolves surrounding the clearing. Other women stood around her, their bodies equally exposed and vulnerable. Some tried to cover themselves with their hands, and Issa was among them, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to make herself smaller, invisible. While the others just stared ahead, their faces blank with defeat. This is it. This is how it ends.

They were marched further down to an open hall, where a line of powerful Alpha figures emerged from the shadows. Their tall, huge forms radiated raw and untamed power. Their eyes, like the first captor she had seen, glowed with an unnatural, predatory light. They began picking their "pleasure tools" for the night. One by one, an Alpha would step forward, scan the line of shivering women, and point.

"You," an Alpha with dark fur grunted, pointing to a young, trembling woman. "Come."

The woman gasped, a barely audible sob, and was immediately led away by a smaller guard, her silhouette swallowed by the darkness beyond.

"You," another Alpha commanded, selecting an older, gaunt woman. "Move."

Her shoulders slumped, and she shuffled away.

Issa felt lightheaded, the dread making her vision swim. She trembled slightly, her gaze flickering across the terrifying faces of the Alphas. Please don't pick me. Please, just let me be ignored. Let me be invisible to them. She squeezed her eyes shut for a fleeting moment, a desperate prayer escaping her lips. Let me just disappear.

More Alphas made their choices. A few more women were gone, their silent departures adding to the chilling atmosphere, leaving larger gaps in the diminishing line.

Then, it was his turn. An Alpha that wasn't really like the others.

A blue-eyed Alpha.

He strode forward, a massive figure whose presence seemed to dwarf even the other Alphas. His aura was a heavy force, a tangible weight in the air, pulling at her senses. His eyes, which usually held the color of ancient gold, were a striking, piercing blue under the firelight, cutting through the shadows. They swept across the naked women.

Issa squeezed her eyes shut again for a fleeting moment, bracing herself. She felt his gaze linger, then settle on her, burning into her skin, causing her to sweat despite the cold night air. Every instinct in her screamed at her to disappear, to burrow into the earth.

When she finally forced her eyes open, his hand was extended, his finger pointing directly at her.

A choked gasp escaped her lips, a silent, trapped sound. Was he-? Of everyone here, it's him? The fear was overwhelming, so potent it paralyzed her. She trembled, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The burly guard who had ordered them to strip, the same one who had thrown her to the ground when she was captured, started towards her.

"You heard the Alpha! Move, stupid human!" he snarled, reaching out to grab her arm roughly.

But just as the guard's fingers brushed her skin, in an attempt to instill force, a low growl echoed, deep and resounding, from the Blue-Eyed Alpha.

"Hands off," he commanded, his voice holding an unexpected note of warning-a quiet thunder that made the large werewolf flinch back, jerking his hand away as if it had been burnt. His eyes widened in reverence, a gesture of absolute obedience.

The blue-eyed Alpha approached her slowly, one deliberate step at a time. He reached her, and Issa flinched, bracing herself for a harsh touch, a blow maybe. This is where the real horror begins.

Instead, a large hand, surprisingly warm and gentle, settled on her bare shoulder. His fingers were unexpectedly soft as they brushed against her skin.

"Come," he said, his voice deep, the tone almost... coaxing. Not a harsh command, but an invitation. It was the first time someone had spoken to her in such a tone since her capture, after many weeks of dehumanizing growls and orders. Why is he being... gentle?

He led her away from the firelight, away from the other trembling women, away from the judging eyes of the pack. He didn't drag her; he guided her. Every part of her, under his strange, gentle touch, moved and followed him almost automatically.

He took her to a private tent, larger and much softer inside than any other in the camp. A low table held a tray with food-actual, appealing food: roasted meat, sweet berries, a small loaf of bread-and a goblet filled with a dark, rich liquid. Food. Real food. Her stomach rumbled, a stark reminder of weeks of gruel.

"Eat," he said, gesturing to the food. His voice, which was once a brutal roar, was now calm and almost... soft.

"And drink." He added as he handed her the goblet.

Issa hesitated, staring at the dark liquid. It smelled sweet, intoxicating, like crushed grapes and something wild. Something she had truly missed, after weeks of hard, stone-like bread and brackish water. Is it safe? Does it matter?

She decided it didn't. She took a long swallow. The sweet, fruity, and surprisingly potent liquid warmed her from the inside out, quickly dissolving every timid part of her, loosening the tight knots in her chest. She drank again, and again, greedily and desperately.

He watched her, his golden eyes unreadable, a silent observer. He made no sudden moves as he spoke in a low, almost soothing tone, words she barely registered through the growing haze of the drink.

He touched her, his hands surprisingly gentle as he brushed her hair from her face, his fingers tracing her jawline.

The world began to spin. Her limbs felt heavy, detached, as if floating. His face, close to hers, blurred and softened.

The night that followed was a haze, a fading sensation she couldn't quite grasp, before her eyes closed completely.