IN A WAR TO HAVE HER.

Nancy's POV

The car's horn couldn't stop at the gate for a long period of time. I wasn't downstairs to know who could be honking endlessly.

I was busy cleaning up my bathroom and toilet when I heard a voice coming from the parlor. One of the voices is Dad's and the other belongs to a man I don't recognize.

Their voices were so unfriendly. Though my dad has a hostile voice, which makes him sound like he wants to devour anyone while speaking.

Since I knew him, he has been speaking with a loud voice. My mother told me she feared marrying him because of his voice. She started talking to him about it at one time.

However, Dad cannot change because he is used to talking loudly.

I also noticed there was some argument, and the stranger's voice was getting louder. For my dad to calm down, speaking calmly made me think that he could be guilty of something.

I catch a whiff of his scent, and it tells me two things, Stranger and

I can easily listen in on their conversation from up here.

Then again, they're so loud, I'm sure even a human would hear them from the next town over. "If I don't have my money by the time I count five times, I'm going to tear your throat out," The stranger threatened.

I'm not paralyzed by fear or anything like that. Okay, maybe a little. Mostly, it keeps reminding me that there could be a problem going on with my father and the others.

So I thought of quickly rushing to the parlor to know what was going on, but on the contrary, I should be in the middle of a matter I know nothing about.

However, a better daughter might run to the parlor to save her father, but I don't budge from my spot in the bathroom. I'm not paralyzed by fear or anything like that. Okay, potentially a little. Mostly, I just keep reminding myself that I shouldn't care.

My father and I aren't best of friends, and he doesn't give a damn about me as much as he should since I lost my darling mother.

I bet if our roles were reversed, he wouldn't bother saving me. It's only fair that I return the favor. He can get out of this mess on his own.

Just as my mind made up, Dad started shouting from the sitting room. He's had years of practice, so his baritone is loud enough to make the walls shake.

"Julie! Get yourself here this minute!"

I'm so used to Dad's yelling that it doesn't really bother me anymore. Plus, like I said,

I really don't want to get mixed up in his mess. Still, I jumped out of my bathroom, left the cleaning, washed my hands, and rushed down to the parlor.

I plan to stay out of the way if I can, but I know that if I take too long obeying an order, there will be consequences. If Dad somehow manages to get out of this mess alive, that is to say he is very lucky.

I get more and more worried with each step I take while coming to meet him. We may not have whatever money Dad owes. We're so short on cash that even with the little job I am doing, last time I checked the money in my bag, it only had fifteen dollars and a handful of coins.

The fifteen can't pay for cigarettes and beer, and if we didn't hunt, we'd starve. Anyway, the fact that we have a money bag, we keep money, and not a bank account like normal people mostly sums things up.

So I got worried, why is Dad calling me? Does he plan to blame me and say I stole the money? Actually, knowing Dad, it's possible, and makes me worry even more.

He could be very funny but not to come and ridicule me before the wolf for something I know nothing about. My heart kept pounding, and I got worried about the whole thing.

Dad embarrassed me in front of his guests? Not that I expect Dad to be concerned about my well-being, but still. Shouldn't he care about continuing the bloodline?

I enter the living room and stop hesitantly in the doorway. I'm not sure if it's safe to approach, and there's a small chance, fingers crossed, that Dad just wants me to fetch something... like that money we don't have. So I'm actually saving time by standing near the door.

I peer into the living room and my eyes settle on one of the largest werewolves I've ever seen. He's in human form and towers almost a foot over my dad.

Although he's about Dad's age, a little younger, he's in much better shape, lean, strong, and muscular, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't have an ounce of fat beneath his jeans and black leather jacket. His jet-black hair needs a cut, and he looks like he hasn't shaved in days.

His eyes are narrowed, and his upper lip is curled back in a snarl. My overall impression is that he's big, wild, and could be very dangerous. Definitely not the sort of wolf Dad should be messing with.

"Come here, Julie," Dad orders when he spots me. Unlike his rival, Dad doesn't look like much. He's of average height and of above-average weight.

All that weight is gathered in his stomach, so he could pass for nine months pregnant. Okay, fine, maybe more like seven. My Dad drinks a lot of beer, and it makes his Tummy grow massive.

Also, he loves late-night meals, which is not good for his age, and has contributed to having a big Belly. Dad also clubs and lives a reckless life, which my mother had severely complained about when she was alive.

As usual, he's wearing thick shorts, belted below his belly, and a blue T-shirt. I carefully walk up to Dad. When I stopped next to him, he crossed his arm around me for like the first time ever!

I really can't remember him ever showing me any sort of affection of such nature, at least not since my mother died. If it has happened, that could be when I was much younger not as I have grown older.

As he pulls me close, I smell cigarettes and beer, and his stench makes me shudder in disgust. Then I catch a whiff of hope laced with worry, which tells me that Dad's definitely up to something.

What's his plan? We all like: "Please don't hurt me, my little girl needs me?"

I mentally roll my eyes at the thought.

It's the only explanation I have for why Dad is suddenly acting all dad-like.

"This is my daughter," Dad introduces me to the Don Wolf Master, who emits a growl in response. It could be his way of saying "nice to meet you," but I doubt it. According to that, his name is Cole, so he could be referred to as Don Master Cole.

He doesn't bother introducing himself, so I settle on "Don Cole" for short.

The nickname is silly-DMC!

"Nancy," Dad adds with a smirk.

'Nancy' is my legal name, though I haven't heard anyone use it in years. When I started school, a few kids shortened my name to Nan. Others just assumed it was Nan and I never corrected them.

Eventually, it's what everyone was calling me, even Dad.

Which makes me wonder, why is he using my full name now?

"I can assure you in all ramifications that she's worth her weight in gold," Dad adds.

I guess that explains it. Nancy is this expensive spice that used to be as valuable as gold if measured by weight. Like, if you wanted to buy a pound of Nancy, it would cost you a pound of gold. That sort of thing. Pretty cool, huh?

Mom was the one who picked out my name. I still remember how she'd call me her little treasure.

Of course, Dad has to go and ruin that memory by constantly telling me that if Mom could see me now, she'd regret calling me Nancy, since I'll never amount to much. I still like the name though, even if no one actually uses it anymore. It's the only reminder I have left of my mom.

"And I should care, why?" DMC growls, bringing me back to the present. His jaw is tense, a vein in his forehead is throbbing, and his hands are clenched into fists. He does not look happy. What could be his problem?

I start to worry that he's about to take his anger out on me, not just Dad, so I assume an exaggerated Submissive Wolf pose.

It's a self-defense move Dad taught me that makes me look non-threatening. It's supposed to trigger a Wolf's protective nature, dampening their urge to attack. I have triggered a Wolf's protective nature, dampening their urge to attack. I've practiced it on Dad-and succeeded- enough times to be an expert.

Furthermore, I hunch my back slightly, making sure not to make eye contact, and emit a whimper. DMC's expression softens briefly, but for him, it's just a dominant Wolf Master instinct that he easily suppresses because all the anger is back moments later.

"Explain yourself!" DMC demands.

I was kind of wondering, too. Why would Dad suddenly start praising me when he always says he hasn't a clue why Mom named me Nancy?

Dad's shower of praises keeps me wondering what's up. He doesn't behave like this to me. As he continued speaking, he asked us all to sit down and hear the reason we are all here

''I thank you all for your attention, sitting to listen to me'' Dad expressed joy while holding his packet of cigarettes.

"The person you see here is my daughter, and not just my daughter, but my only daughter. I hold her in high esteem. She's all that I got and should be treated with honor and dignity"

Nan is very obedient. That's what we call her. Nan." Dad tells the Wolf Master. "She does what you tell her to do, she never disobeys."

He ruffles my hair, the action more rough than affectionate.

"Her wolf is fully submissive, an Omega if ever there was one." He pulls me into his side, making me feel like the best on earth.

Even though I'm no Omega and Dad knows it, I keep my mouth shut. Now is really not the time to stand up for myself.

"Nancy can cook, clean, and hunt, and she has a good head on her shoulders,"

Dad continues. "Worth her weight in gold, this one." Usually, I'm the useless screw-up, so you can't blame me for being shocked that Dad is suddenly singing a different tone, gold, this one."

He changed his narrative and feelings towards me, and I was really wondering. Though to please him, he was saying all!

DMC doesn't seem to like what he's hearing either, or maybe he's just fed up with listening. He was busy facing the ground and acting like I was not relevant to him, but something else.

He's actually getting more pissed off by the second, which doesn't even seem possible. His entire body is shaking, as if it takes considerable effort for him not to go in for the kill.

"Is she ready now?" he growls and gives me the once-over. I shudder and draw my arms closer to my sides, trying to look smaller, more submissive. The wolf equivalent of "please don't hurt me; I'll do whatever you say."

"She's worth much more than seven thousand dollars, so you're actually getting yourself a real bargain," Dad adds, and my eyes widen.

Seven thousand dollars? How in the hell did he manage to get indebted to such a giant sum? I look between Dad and DMC and some of what's happening starts to make sense.

Dad got himself into a mess, and now he wants me to clean it up. He mentioned cool, cleaning, and hunting, and it's not like he ever does any of those himself.

Seven thousand dollars, though? How long would I have to work for DMC to settle that kind of debt? Months or years? It is perplexing, and I can't imagine the role I will play that will make me pay off such debt.

I'm pretty good at math, so I try to work it all out in my head. I get paid minimum wage at the diner, and I doubt DMC would pay me any more than that.

So I'd have to work around two thousand hours, and if I put in forty hours a week, that would be... crap, I have no idea. I can't count on the spot like this! Not with DMC growling at me and ready to strike.

All I know is that it will take a long time. A whole year if I may say? Or even two years, maybe much longer than that? Seven thousand dollars! Plus, what would happen to my small business at the food stand?

I can't do both! Will Dad make me quit my business? How do I handle the situation at hand? Just that he sold off some lands given to him on pledge, and used the money for frivolities.

The owner was on his neck, and he went and borrowed money at a high interest rate but could not pay as when due. Dad did not calculate well.

He is such a lackadaisical kind of person. His way of life has put him in trouble. "What would I want her for?" DMC asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Housekeeper? Slave? She doesn't care," Dad responds. "She'll do whatever you tell her to. She's a hard worker, so she'll earn her keep, and then some." DMC says nothing, and Dad sighs. "Look, I could probably sell her for much more than that if I want to."

I gasp as the shock of what Dad is saying begins to sink in. He doesn't want me to work for DMC. He wants to sell me to DMC on the grounds of arranged marriage or contract marriage! Sell me! Like I'm a piece of property, is that even legal?

"Maybe this is all just a bad dream. Any second now, I'll snap out of it and realize I fell asleep doing homework. I pinch my hand, desperate to wake up, but the nightmare only keeps getting worse.

Just give me a couple of days and I'll get you your money." Dad laughs. "How hard is it to sell a young girl? She's a virgin too, you know. Or I think she is?"

Dad gives me a questioning look, but I just stand there, horrified. This can't be happening! "If I take her," DMC growls, "you will have no say in what I do with her. You will never see your daughter again. I will make her my own, except that the debt is cleared in the agreed-upon time. She is standing as collateral.

You'll never speak to her, write to her, or have any contact with her until all conditions are met! Is that understood?" DMC takes a step toward Dad and us, and tightens his hold around my shoulder.

"Of course" He nods, the scent of triumph replacing the hope and worry that I smelled on him earlier. "She's all yours."

"Very well." DMC growls. "I will forgive your debt in due course."

"I knew you'd see things my way," Dad smirks, and I shudder.

This is not happening. Dad did not just sell me to someone! Is this a joke? Did he get one of his buddies to play along so he could have a few laughs at my expense?

I wouldn't put it past him, but DMC looks pretty serious, and somehow I can't see him as one of Dad's beer-drinking, card-playing friends.

I know Dad doesn't like me, but he's still my father! I never imagined he would do something so despicable.

Furthermore, I thought that if I could stand him until I finished high school, I'd get out of here, away from this run-down house and this awful small town.

If I'd known Dad was going to sell me and make me someone's slave, I would have run away years ago. The deed is done already. I have been sold off without my knowledge. It's so incredible and pathetic.

Suddenly, I just want to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. I need to shift, to escape... to run and never stop. I try to pull away from Dad, but he's holding on to me with an iron grip.

Furthermore, I fight against him and almost break free, but DMC grabs my other shoulder. His grip isn't painful, but it's strong, and he has no trouble holding me in place.

"Nancy," DMC spits out, and I hate the way he makes the beautiful name my mom gave me sound. "If you try to run, I will track you down, and it won't be pretty for you or your father."

DMC growls, and I freeze, his menacing glare making me tremble. His arm is still on me, and I shudder in disgust.

"You will go to your room and pack your things," DMC orders and lets go of me. Dad does too, and it takes everything I have to force myself not to make a run for it. "If you try to leave, I will hear you. If you attempt to escape, I will punish you.

I don't respond. It's all too much. Dad just sold me to a violent, scary, pissed off Wolf. I can only hope that I'm going to be a housekeeper and not something disgusting, like a sex slave. He may not be bad looking for an old guy, but still. Gross!

I can't handle this. I just can't. Furthermore, I start to shake my head, but then DMC shouts the order, "Do what you're told. now!"

His voice is laced with authority, and instinct propels me up the passage to my bedroom. I pick up my duffel bag on autopilot and begin to pack up my stuff before I have time to process what's happening.

Dad told me that Dons, and occasionally Betas, can have this sort of it over Wolves; that it can be hard, or even impossible, to disobey them.

I just never believed him because it sounded so far-fetched. I figured he was exaggerating, or maybe just making the whole thing up to mess with order, but if I'd known this was for real, I would have taken the training a lot more seriously.

I take deep breaths and clear my mind the way Dad taught me, and the effect of DMC's order starts to dissipate. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to climb out the window and run. I'm fast, both in wolf and human form, after all the practice I've had running from Dad.

The man may be in horrible shape, but his wolf is lean and strong. It's weird how that works, but we have to exercise in both forms if we want to stay in shape.

Still, Dad and I are rogues, so we're much weaker than other Wolves. That's why no pack has ever wanted us. Even if I can outrun Dad, I'm probably a snail compared to DMC.

Plus, he's expecting me to run, so he's ready to give chase. Once he catches me, he might kill me on the spot, beat the crap out of me, torture me, or worse. As he warned me, it won't be pretty.

If I'm going to escape, I need to bide my time. If I act weak and obedient, DMC will lower his guard. Then, when the time is right, I will make a run for it. I just hope it won't be too late. I will definitely find my way out of his home, and in no time I will carry out my plans adequately. Many will be shocked at what I will do.

Suddenly, I just want to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. I need to shift, to escape to run and never stop. I try to pull away from Dad, but he's holding on to me with an iron grip.

Furthermore, I fight against him and almost break free, but DMC grabs my other shoulder.

His grip isn't painful, but it's strong, and he has no trouble holding me in place.

"Nancy," DMC spits out, and I hate the way he makes the beautiful name my mom gave me sound. "If you try to run,

I will track you down, and it won't be pretty for you or your father." DMC growls, and I freeze, his menacing glare making me tremble. His arm is still on me, and I shudder in disgust.

"You will go to your room and pack your things," DMC orders and lets go of me. Dad does too, and it takes everything I have to force myself not to make a run for it. "If you try to leave, I will hear you. If you attempt to escape, I will punish you.

I didn't respond. It's all too much. Dad just sold me to a violent, scary, pissed off Wolf. I can only hope that I'm going to be a housekeeper and not something disgusting, like a sex slave. He may not be bad looking for an old guy, but still. Gross!

I can't handle this. I just can't. Furthermore, I start to shake my head, but then DMC shouts the order, "Do what you're told. now!"

His voice is laced with authority, and instinct propels me up the passage to my bedroom. I pick up my duffel bag on autopilot and begin to pack up my stuff before I have time to process what's happening.

Dads told me that Dons, and occasionally Betas, can have this sort of DMC over Wolves; that it can be hard, or even impossible, to disobey them.

I just never believed him because it sounded so far-fetched. I figured he was exaggerating, or maybe just making the whole thing up to mess with order, but if I'd known this was for real, I would have taken the training a lot more seriously.

I take deep breaths and clear my mind the way Dad taught me, and the effect of DMC's order starts to dissipate. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to climb out the window and run. I'm fast, both in wolf and human form, after all the practice I've had running from Dad.

The man may be in horrible shape, but his wolf is lean and strong. It's weird how that works, but we have to exercise in both forms if we want to stay in shape.

Still, Dad and I are rogues, so we're much weaker than other Wolves. That's why no pack has ever wanted us. Even if I can outrun Dad, I'm probably a snail compared to DMC.

Plus, he's expecting me to run, so he's ready to give chase. Once he catches me, he might kill me on the spot, beat the crap out of me, torture me, or worse. As he warned me, it won't be pretty.

If I'm going to escape, I need to bide my time. If I act weak and obedient, DMC will lower his guard. Then, when the time is right, I will make a run for it.

I just hope it won't be too late. I will definitely find my way out of his home, and in no time, I will carry out my plans adequately. Many will be shocked at what I will do.

While in my room picking up some of my belongings, I sat on my bed, restless. Tears dropped from my cheeks and I could see myself getting involved with what I know nothing about.

My dad had an opportunity to get such giant money, but he wasted it. Assuming he invested it in a good investment company, it would have been better. He hasn't cared about my welfare since my mother died, and now I am to save him from a state of financial dilemma.

Looking at my precious room, which my mom arranged for me right from when I was much younger, I feel so bad that I am moving out of it unplanned. It was heartbreaking and so disheartening that one could wake up to see that she is being sold to a stranger,

I picked up my duffel bag mom got me and took one last look around my bedroom: the single bed, with its stained but freshly washed sheets; the beat-up wooden desk and matching chair that got me through years of homework; the now-empty dresser, which barely had any clothes in it to begin with.

I don't have many good memories of this place-at least not any recent ones-but it's still home, and it certainly beats whatever hell's waiting for me next.

"Nancy," DMC bellows from the living room. My hands clenched into fists at his use of the name Mom gave me, and I struggled against the urge to run, or worse yet, fight. If I do either, I know I'll regret it.

DMC's footsteps thunder up the stairs and my heart starts to race. It only took me a couple of minutes to pack, but I've still managed to piss him off. It's a good thing I don't own more stuff. His appearance makes me afraid.

I see him to be deadly and ready to do anything for his money. I needed to be fast in order for him not to scream at me. Even my dad could join him to scream at me.

I head to the door, and my eyes instinctively drift to the empty spot above my bed. Mom's painting used to hang there for as long as I can remember.

It's of a beautiful Nancy flower, the one the spice comes from, and I look at it whenever I feel sad or afraid. I know it's silly, but it makes me feel like Mom's with me. I'm glad it's small enough to fit in my duffel bag because I honestly don't think I could leave without it.

Furthermore, I step out into the living room and DMC is already at the entrance door and glaring at me. He certainly moves fast, even for a Wolf.

"Sorry, sir," my voice trembles. I don't even have to pretend to be the submissive, obedient Wolf Dad made me out to be. I'm so freaked out over everything that's just happened that I will be sick.

"Let's go." DMC gestures toward the stairs. "Toothbrush," I mumble, taking a step toward the bathroom. DMC emits a frustrated growl and I freeze in my tracks. What am I doing?

The pushover Omega that DMC expects, the one who does anything she's told, the one too scared to ever run away, would never do this. She'd have been too overwhelmed by fear to think of things she forgot to pack, like her toothbrush.

I just disobeyed a seven-foot-tall Wolf because I forgot to pack a treated toothbrush! What's wrong with me? Good dental hygiene is so not worth dying for. My toothbrush is unique to me. You do not find such in the markets so easily. When I went back to buy more as a spare, I was unable to get any.

I stand halfway between DMC and the bathroom as he comes closer, and I begin to tremble.

I'm never going to pull this off. DMC is probably going to put guards on me and chain me up in the dungeon.

I'll never escape... never see the light of day... never finish high school or go today... never go to school or go to college... never fall in love... never get married... never have kids. I'll starve to death in a cold, dank basement or bleed out from beatings and torture.

Furthermore, I should just let DMC kill me now and get it over with!

"Go." DMC orders in a voice that sounds deceptively gentle. "Just make it fast."

He doesn't growl or yell, the only ways I thought he knew how to communicate, and his words are barely above a whisper.

His tone sounds soothing, but it's also laced with authority, and my feet take me inside the bathroom before I even have time to think about it.

Looking at his face is fearful, hearing his voice is imaginary, believing him is at your risk. I saw him as a man, who is not diplomatic, doesn't shift grounds, pity is not in his dictionary, love will be far from him, and mercy is not close to him. A bully man I was seeing him to be like.

I grab my toothbrush and the toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash, since I doubt Dad ever uses them, and shove everything into my bag. Given Dad's rotting teeth, genetics are stacked against me, so I need to keep up with my 'brush-floss-disinfect' routine if I want to stay cavity-free.

"Come," DMC orders, and I follow him closer on autopilot, wondering how I can even think about dental hygiene at a time like this.

DMC stops abruptly when he reaches the living room, and I jump back to avoid crashing into him. He growls and I peek around him and gape. I decided to act responsibly so that I do not have a clash with him. My life is almost in his hands, and he is to decide what I should do, where I should be, where I should go, and what I should do next.

Dad is sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.

He's acting as if he doesn't have a care in the world, switching channels until he finally settles on the game. He looks up from the TV when he finally notices us and raises a questioning eyebrow.

His relaxation signifies he was a bit free. Owing a debt could be scary and uncomfortable. His worries have reduced drastically since I am to clean up his mess.

He and I briefly make eye contact, but there isn't a shred of guilt on his face. I may be his only child, but he couldn't care less about me.

DMC growls and walks over to the couch, towering over Dad. Suddenly, his right arm shoots out, and he wraps his hand around Dad's neck, lifting him as if he weighs nothing.

Dad's jaw drops, his eyes widen, and he begins to choke. Shouts and cheers echo from the TV, mocking him. He pulls at DMC's arm with both hands, feet kicking out as he tries to break free, but no matter how hard he tries, DMC's grip doesn't waver.

"If I ever catch you playing Poker again, or any card game, or any other activity that will waste your money, I will kill you. Are we clear?" DMC demands, holding dad up at eye level. I guess that explains how Dad came to owe so much money. Although why he'd bet money, he'd never be able to pay back escapes me.

Dad tries to nod, and when that doesn't work, he manages to get out a strangled "yes." He looks so small and helpless, feet dangling high above the ground, arms trying and failing to loosen DMC's grip.

On TV, the announcer drones on as Dad starts to turn blue. I can tell his arms are weakening, and when his eyes start to close, I let out an involuntary gasp. My dad is about to die right in front of me, and I'm not doing anything to stop it. What sort of person does that make me?

Unexpectedly, DMC lets go and Dad comes crashing down onto the brown leather. There are bruises around his neck, but he's still breathing, so he'll live. Because of our superior healing ability,

I know the damage will be gone in minutes and Dad will be as good as new; while I'll still be DMC's slave. It is not an easy task to be a slave, especially when you are not prepared for that or even have knowledge of becoming such.

My mom told me several times that I am her princess and that greater futures are ahead for me. She said I should not panic, but I should always remain resolute. I wondered how all this could work out for me again since I will be a slave to DMC.

"Come," DMC orders, marching past me. I take one last look at Dad, silently begging him to change his mind to save me but he's too busy rubbing his neck to pay me any attention. I look away, hold back tears, and follow DMC out of the house.

There's a dark blue pickup truck parked in the driveway. DMC opens the passenger-side door, lifts me, and tosses me onto the seat as if I were his gym bag; just another possession, bought and paid for.

DMC slams the door shut, and I don't move a muscle, following him with my eyes as he rounds the truck and climbs in. Surprisingly, I saw two young able-bodied guys who entered the back seat.

That made me know that they have been hanging around. Looking at him, he told me they are his boys. He asked me never to be afraid, that no one would ever hurt me. According to him, he always goes out of his pack with the boys for security reasons.

"Seatbelt," DMC growls and buckles up.

I quickly do as he says, and he starts the engine. Then he hits the gas, and the truck tires screech as we race out of the driveway.

I hold on to my seat belt with one hand and cradle my bag with the other. As the truck speeds up, I turn to stare out the window, watching the only home.

Thinking about where I am going and what could come up there? I shouted like something hit me in the middle of the road and he stopped. I jumped out of the car immediately at the bridge.

They all came down, only for armed Young men who came out of the bush, shot at the air, overpowered DMC and his boys, and took me away.