Married To The Hidden Alpha

The cold wind hit her, making her curl up in bed. With her eyes still closed, she searched for the blanket. It was at this point that she realised she was alone in bed. She opened her eyes and turned on the bedside lamp. She shifted her gaze to the other side of the bed, and it was empty. She searched for the blanket, and it was on the foot of the bed.

She sat up on the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. She stood up and grabbed her robe from the stand, standing next to the bed, close to the wall. She put it on and tied the robe.

"Ethan," she called out to him, walking towards the bathroom.

She opened the door.

"Ethan, are you in there?" she asked as she pushed the door open.

Her eyes searched everywhere, but the place was empty. She closed the door and headed for the door.

"Ethan!" She called out to him, as she reached for the door knob.

She was soon outside and headed for the staircase. She hurried down the staircase while yarning. She walked past the living room and headed for the kitchen, turning on the lights as she walked past the switches.

"Ethan," she yelled his name, but was met with silence.

The obvious dawned on her. She was alone in this big house. She opened the refrigerator, not sure what she was looking for in there. She closed it and looked around. Nothing was out of place.

"Where could Ethan be at this time of the night?" she thought and shifted her gaze to the clock.

It was 15 minutes past 2 a.m.

She was staying in San Francisco with her husband. Their apartment was very close to a vast land of forest.

She stood in the kitchen, leaning on the middle counter, which had the stove, and a space for other things. She heard a loud howl, which made her shift her gaze to the window, but she quickly moved her gaze to the lights, which started flickering. The light went off, covering the whole apartment with darkness, except for the moonlight that penetrated the kitchen through the slightly opened window, providing very little visibility.

She slowly walked in the dark, recalling the direction of the second counter where she kept the stove lighter. With her hands stretched forward, she found the counter and ran her hand on the table and found the lighter. She quickly lights it up, only to find someone standing next to her. She jumped out of fright, dropping the lighter in the process, and the place turned dark again.

She screamed her heart out as the hands grabbed her in the dark.

"Gwen, Gwen, calm down. It's me, Ethan," she heard the familiar voice and stopped struggling to break free.

"Ethan?" she asked.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, still holding her.

Gwen's POV

Eight months ago, I roamed the streets after running away from the orphanage home. I couldn't stand the maltreatment and constant harassment from Mr Grant any more. I just turned 18, and he is bent on sleeping with me. Every night, he would come into my room and try to force me to sleep with him. I always manage to escape hitting him in the head with something. In the morning, he would lie to everyone that he forgot how low the door was and hit his head on his way into the big hall.

While on the street, I knew I needed to find a way to earn some money to feed myself. So I went from restaurant to restaurant, offering to wash the dishes for them just to get some money for food. At night, I go to the train station and sneak into one of the carriages for the night. Days that I am caught, I just keep roaming the streets till morning.

This went on for a while until one day, I was walking down the street late, hungry. All through the day, I couldn't get any work done, so no money. I heard someone cry. I slowed down my walking pace and headed in that direction. I realised the cry was coming from behind a building, which was not far away from the quiet street. I drew closer and decided to peek. I saw a man harassing a woman. She almost looks like my age. I recalled how Mr Grant constantly harassed me at the orphanage. I looked around for something I could use. My gaze fell on a metal rod lying next to a bin behind the building. I grabbed it and tiptoed towards the place where the man was harassing the lady. His back was facing me. When I got close, without giving it much thought, I hit the back of his head with the metal rod, and he fell to the ground, freeing the girl. She screamed and was about to run away from me.

"It's okay. I am Gwen White. I just want to help," I said.

"He is my boyfriend, you jerk," she yelled at me, closing her skirt button.

"I am sorry, I thought he was harassing you. I came to help when I heard you cry," I tried to explain.

"I wasn't crying," she yelled at me and quickly went down to check on the man while I stood there waiting to hear what she was saying after the check.

"Oh my god, you killed him," she announced and stood up to her feet.

"Is he dead? I asked, suddenly frightened. I dropped the metal rod in my hand and took a step back.

"Let's get out of here," the lady said to me, but I was frozen to my spot, staring at the man on the ground lying on his side.

The lady grabbed my arm and pulled me as she walked away from the body. We had barely left the place when we heard a hoarse voice.

"You whore, came back here. You have not finished paying me what you owe me," I paused and looked back.

The man we thought was dead was sitting on the ground with his hand behind his head. He gradually stood to his feet, and we ran out of the place.

"Run," the girl said to me and started running.

I looked back one more time, and I saw the man was hurrying his steps heading in our direction. My heart skipped multiple beats. I was glad he was alive, though. I started running, heading in the same direction as the lady. She kept making some turns through places I had no idea were part of the city. I kept following, not sure where we were running to. Occasionally, I look back to check if the man was still after us. I looked again, and he was no longer after us.

"I think he is gone," I yelled, half panting.

"What did you say?" she screamed back.

"I said, I think he is gone," I repeated and paused, catching my breath.

"We can't stop. We need to get to a safe place. Follow me," She said.

"No more running. I haven't eaten since morning. I don't have any more strength in me," I complained.

"We don't need to run again. Just follow me," she said, and we walked down a street lane.

The place was very quiet, but as we proceeded, I heard faint noise. The noise got louder as we kept heading in the same direction. Finally, we came to a huge building. I read the sign and it says Girls Girls.

"This is a safe place," she said.

I looked at the place and wondered what they do inside.

"I am Amanda, by the way," She introduced. "You said you are Gwen, right?" she said, smiling.

"Yes," I replied.

"Anyway, sorry for yelling at you back there. And thank you for saving me," she said.

"But what was he doing to you?" I asked.

"I owe him a lot of money, and that was a way of paying my debt off. Offering free service," Amanda said, and I just stared at her.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I have to pay my bills. I am just using what I have to get what I need," she said, and I stared at her, shocked. "Come with me, I work here," she said.

"Wait," I said, realizing the place was for hookers.

"Don't be scared. Not all the girls working there are hookers. Some are strippers. Meaning, looky no touchy. Some also just wait for people. How old are you?" she asked.

"I8 years," I replied.

"Have you been with a man before?" she asked me, and I shook my head.

"Okay," Amanda said and stopped, making me stop too. "With your figure, you can pass for a 16-year-old. I will introduce you to the madam. Just tell her you are 16. She will employ you as a waitress. You are pretty. Your face will attract men with chips," she said, and I wondered what that meant.

"You saved me, so I am helping you. I have seen you a couple of times. So I know you are homeless," she said to my surprise.

Before I could ask a question, she dragged me into the club and pulled me through the crowd, and we ended up in front of a door. She knocked and we both entered. Lucky for me, it rained in the morning, so I had a chance to shower using the rainwater.

Amanda opened the door, and we both entered. It was a small room, but big enough to accommodate a huge desk, something that looked like a shelf, but it was filled with so many bottles and an L-shaped red couch. There was a man with a woman sitting on his lap. And behind the desk was a lady, she looked like someone in her fifties, but she had her hair shaved and tattoos, and piercings like a teenager.

The place looked very creepy, with images of women in bikinis posing in weird styles posted all around the room. Right next to the huge desk was a standing thick metal net board with handcuffs hanging on either side. My gaze returned to the woman behind the desk, who had her head buried in smoke, one would think something inside her head was burning, and we needed to call the fire service asap.

The door closed behind us, and my heart skipped multiple beats. Tension clothed me like a blanket, as the woman behind the desk and the man with the lady sitting on the couch, all stared at us like we were in the wrong place.

Gwen's POV

My heart pounded as Amanda tugged me forward. The smell of cigarette smoke filled the cramped office, curling in the air like a warning.

"Madam, I got you a fresh girl," Amanda said, flashing a nervous smile.

The woman behind the desk rose, sleek and predatory, her red nails glinting under the dim light. She pulled out another cigarette, took a long drag, and exhaled right in my face. I coughed.

"Well done, Amanda," she murmured, scanning me from head to toe. "Greenhorn. I can smell her innocence."

A man's voice came from behind. "She's a virgin? Let me unwrap her."

The woman replied to the man sharply. "You've had enough virgins this week. This one's not for you. I'll train her myself."

My pulse raced. I didn't understand what they were talking about, only that I was in danger.

"She's a minor, isn't she?" the woman asked.

Amanda nodded.

"How old are you?" The woman's tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

"Eight....sixteen," I stammered, almost blurting out the wrong number.

"Eight or sixteen?" she barked.

"Sixteen," I said quickly, trembling.

She hissed. "Two years before I can sell you."

Sell me? My stomach twisted.

"She's homeless," Amanda said. "No one's looking for her."

The woman leaned back, exhaling smoke. "Good. Let her wash up and join the waitresses tonight. Let's see how she fits in."

She shoved a paper towards me. "Sign this."

"I can't read or write," I whispered.

She grabbed my thumb, pressed it into an ink pad, and stamped it on the page. "That'll do. You belong to me now. I clothe you, feed you, and shelter you. In return, you work. I'm Madam Green."

I nodded numbly, not understanding the weight of what I'd just agreed to.

Amanda took me out, handed me a towel, and pointed to a small bathroom. After bathing, she returned with a skimpy bunny costume. My cheeks burned just looking at it.

"Put it on, or die," she said flatly.

The words froze my breath. I slipped into the outfit, tugging it awkwardly to cover myself.

"Good. Now, remember," Amanda said, straightening my ponytail and placing bunny ears on my head, "you've signed your life away. The police can't help you."

When we entered the club, my senses exploded: blinding lights, pounding music, and bodies pressed close. Some girls danced in cages above the stage, others swayed in bikinis. Men lounged on couches, hands wandering freely.

Amanda strutted ahead like she owned the place. "She's the new waitress," she told the man behind the counter.

I gripped my tray tightly, trying to stay invisible.

"Hey, sugar, how much for the night?" a man shouted.

Before I could react, Amanda blocked him. "She's staff, not stock. Respect the rules."

The man backed away instantly. I blinked. How could such a tiny woman intimidate him?

Amanda turned to me. "Listen carefully. You only serve drinks. Nothing more. If anyone touches you, say the words, 'Respect the rules, ' and threaten to scream. They'll stop."

"And if they don't?"

"Then scream. High-pitched. The snipers will take care of the rest."

I looked up. The ceiling had a narrow balcony ringed with railings. Dark figures lingered there, half-hidden.

"Some of those disco lights," Amanda added with a grin, "aren't lights. They're laser sights. Cross one, and you drop."

I gulped hard.

We began serving. Amanda's tray floated effortlessly on her palm while her hips swayed to the beat. She smiled at customers, teasing, charming. I tried to imitate her, but my tray wobbled. A glass slipped and shattered.

A cleaner appeared out of nowhere, silently sweeping up the shards. I whispered an apology, but Amanda waved it off. "Hold it with both hands," she said.

By the end of the night, I'd found a rhythm. I wasn't invisible anymore; people noticed me. Some smiled, some stared, but none dared touch. When the club finally closed, Amanda led me to a small room behind the staff quarters.

"This is yours," she said. "Hide your tips. Don't trust anyone."

She left, and I sat on the edge of the bed, counting the few crumpled notes I'd earned. It wasn't much, but it was mine. For the first time in months, I had a roof over my head and food in my stomach.

Three weeks later, I was almost a pro. The bunny outfit no longer made me blush; I wore it like armour. The men knew better than to cross me.

"Not all the lights are for show," I'd tell them with a wink. "You don't want to end up in a body bag."

It worked every time.

Jose, the bartender, became my quiet ally. He mixed drinks like a magician, flaming cocktails, bubbling brews that smoked and fizzed. I served them with a smile, collected my tips, and kept my head down.

Life had settled into a routine. I cleaned after closing, slept for a few hours, then scrubbed the place again by morning. Madam Green provided one meal a day; my tips covered breakfast. It wasn't much, but it was better than sleeping on the streets.

The only thing I hated was cleaning the private rooms. They were always messy, littered with strange rubber filled with cloudy liquid. One afternoon, curiosity got the better of me.

"Amanda," I asked, holding one up, "what are these? Drugs?"

She burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "Please tell me you didn't taste it."

"Of course not," I frowned. "I did smell it, though. Kind of like strawberries, and rotten eggs."

Amanda howled with laughter.

"Do you know what condoms are?" she asked when she caught her breath.

I shook my head.

"Well, that's one. Used by men. For sex."

My eyes widened.

"They stop diseases and babies," she said, still grinning. "And what's inside? That's sperm."

I dropped it instantly, disgust curling in my gut. Amanda laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes.

From that day on, I wore gloves for cleaning.

A few days later, Madam Green walked in with her assistant, Jack, the same man who had spoken about "unwrapping" me my first night. My skin crawled at the sight of him.

"Done cleaning?" Madam Green asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Come to my office."

I followed, hands trembling.

"You're dancing tonight," she said the moment I stepped in.

"Me?"

"No, the Queen of England," she snapped. "Yes, you."

She shoved a phone into my hand. A video played, a woman pole-dancing in a mask, moving like liquid fire.

"Learn it. One hour. You'll perform tonight."

My mouth went dry. "I, I don't know how."

"Then learn fast," she said, lighting another cigarette.

I sat on the couch beside Jack, watching the video over and over until I could almost feel the music in my bones. When Madam Green snapped her fingers, I jumped.

"Show me."

"Here?"

"No, on Mars," she barked. "Of course, here!"

I hesitated, and the phone slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor. The screen cracked.

"That's coming out of your pay," she said coldly.

"I don't get paid," I muttered before I could stop myself.

"Exactly. I feed and clothe you. That's your payment. Now you owe me."

"I'm sorry."

"No lunch for a month. Sleep wherever you want. Unless," she leaned forward, eyes gleaming, "you give me a perfect dance."

She pressed play on the stereo. Music flooded the room.

"Dance!"

I started awkwardly, my limbs stiff.

"Better move, or I'll put a bullet between your eyes," she said, pulling a gun from her drawer.

Terror gripped me.

"Easy," Jack said, standing. "Let me handle her."

He walked over, took out a handkerchief, and tied it over my eyes.

"Now, imagine you're alone," he whispered. "Just the music. Just you. Don't take it off, or you die."

I heard the door shut. My breath trembled. Then, I moved. Slowly at first, then faster. My body followed the rhythm, unthinking, unbound. I danced like my life depended on it, because it did.

When the music stopped, a voice clapped softly.

"Now that's more like it," Madam Green said.

The cloth was lifted from my eyes. Jack was smiling faintly.

"You'll dance tonight," Madam Green said. "Amanda will dress you."

That evening, Amanda helped me into a white costume, tight, feather-trimmed, and dazzling under the lights. She brushed shimmer onto my cheeks, tied the mask around my face, and stepped back with a grin.

"Look at you," she whispered. "A fairy in a cage."

I stared at my reflection, barely recognising the girl in the mirror. She looked beautiful. Powerful.

But beneath the glitter, I knew the truth.

I wasn't a dancer.

I was Madam Green's newest possession, shining, trembling, and trapped.