Straying Echo: Fighting to Escape an Obsessed Alpha

POV: Echo

It was already 3pm when I dumped the last of the dirty linen down the laundry chute, swiping away the sweat that was dripping from my brow. Wasting no time, I began to make my way to the kitchen, knowing I needed to be there right away.

Rushing down the hallway, I made it to the stairs, seeing no one else around. Unfortunately, one of the last people I want to see is walking up the stairs. Embry is the Alpha's mate, making her the pack's Luna, and she is the sister of the pack's current Beta. She was a gorgeous she-wolf, but too many years of being doted on as a high-ranking wolf had turned her into a nightmare that was impossible to please.

Irritatingly, she noticed me at the same time I noticed her, making it impossible for me to slip back down the hall and out of sight. Embry narrowed her eyes at me, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and narrowing her eyes as she stormed over to me. "What do we have here?" She sneers, propping a hand on her hip.

With a deep breath to keep myself calm, I bowed my head and stared at the floor. I know that with Embry, silence is usually better than answering her. But looking down like that also meant that I didn't see her move until her backhand knocked me off my feet.

"I asked you a question!" She growls, just loud enough to be heard over the ringing in my ears. I tried to blink away the blurriness from my vision, focusing on making the room stop spinning. It has been too many days since I've eaten, and it's been all I could do to stay on my feet up to this point.

"Sorry, Luna." I choked out, eyes glued to the floor. I still had to make dinner, and if I planned on eating this week, I couldn't allow my strength to falter now. She pouted for a moment, and I knew she'd been hoping for a little more resistance from me. Sighing as though disappointed, she turned to leave. I didn't move a muscle, trying not to give her any reason to turn back toward me.

"Pathetic." She chuckled as she crushed my fingers under her heel on her way past. A pained hiss flew from my lips as I clutched my hand to my chest, assessing the damage. Her high-heeled boot had broken at least one of my fingers!

While we werewolves heal more quickly than normal humans, several factors play a key role in the speed of a wolf's healing. First being that an unshifted werewolf does not heal as quickly as a werewolf who can shift, as their wolf isn't as strong before their first shift. The second factor is a wolf's general health both prior to their injury and during the healing process.

That is where my problem lies, in both my status as an unshifted werewolf and in my poor physical condition. If I were to put it bluntly, I have simply suffered too many injuries and missed too many meals to rely on my werewolf genes to heal me sufficiently right now.

With a sigh, I pull myself to my feet, swaying as I try to regain my balance. I knew I needed to keep moving, so I took several steadying breaks before I headed down the stairs, rubbing the bruise that was already forming on my cheekbone.

Once I reached the ground floor, I glanced across the dining room before darting from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen door once I was sure it was empty. I stop only to peer through the doorway and make sure the kitchen is clear of wolves before making my way into the room.

Thankful that no one was around to bother me, I swiftly moved to my personal med kit and pulled my well-worn finger splint from the top. I tuck the little kit into my back pocket for safekeeping, as within it are the only first-aid supplies I may use.

Carefully inspecting my broken finger, I note the odd angle of it before I grab and pull it straight with a grunt. Then I splint it with an efficiency learned over many years of treating my own broken fingers and toes.

With that taken care of, I carefully pull out the ingredients for dinner. I usually make enough breakfast and dinner for about 30 wolves, most of whom live in the twelve-plus rooms in the pack house. There are also a handful of wolves that own their own houses on pack land who also come to the house for dinner. They are mostly mateless wolves and warriors after late training sessions or those coming and going for patrol shifts.

The pack house is a massive three-story mansion, with the alpha quarters taking up almost two-thirds of the third floor. The other third being beta quarters, with a handful of guest rooms for visiting alphas from other packs between them.

A group of paid maids make the beds, put away the clean laundry, daily sweeping and mopping on all three floors, dusting, and other general household chores. The responsibilities that the maids have decided they don't get paid enough to deal with fall to me.

The pack considers me to only be useful enough to strip their rooms, cook, serve, and clean up after their breakfasts and dinners, and set out and put away the grab-and-go lunches. That and washing, drying, and folding all the laundry for the entire pack house, as well as the spare clothes left by the treeline wolves who shift back and are without them.

I frowned as I put together the massive pot of beef stew, my broken finger aching from the work. I get to work filling the massive pot with pound after pound of beef, potatoes, carrots, gallons of water and beef stock, seasonings, and enough slurry to thicken it to perfection.

My arms shake as I give it the final stir, my stomach grumbling in protest. Even though I made the dinner, I would not be eating until later, and only if I was permitted. This evening, however, the delicious smell of dinner cooking was a genuine test of my self-control. I'd made this meal a thousand times before, and never had I struggled so much with my self-control as much I did this evening.

I remember when I was younger and more impulsive, I would sneak bites of food here and there as I cooked meals. It wasn't worth it though, as Embry and the future Alpha would always pin me to the wall and shove their fingers down my throat until I threw it all up.

Frustrated, I shook the memories from my mind, pulling the last pan of buns from the oven and tipping them onto the cooling rack. Once the buns are cool, I fill the bread baskets and top up the butter dishes before placing them at regular intervals along the dining hall tables.

When I return to the kitchen, I fill the large tureens with stew, placing a ladle in each before carrying them out. The table had to be set up before I returned to the kitchen, where I washed the dishes from cooking dinner, wiped the counters, and monitored the dirty dish bins in the dining hall. As each bin filled, I replaced it with an empty one and then scrubbed the dishes from the hall.

By the time everyone finished eating, and I'd washed the last dish and wiped down the tables, I was dragging my feet heavily. I'd hoped that fresh buns and a hearty thick stew would put the pack members in a good enough mood that I might eat tonight, but I'd had no such luck.

Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of the sight I'd walked into at the end of dinner with a cringe, as multiple pack members had worked together to toss what little food was left straight into the trash. They had watched me with smirks on their faces as I'd watched in silent despair as my only hope for food was dumped.

Pushing the memory back, I took one last glance around the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect before I headed to the basement door in the corner. There is another door at the bottom of the stairs, with several locks placed strategically around it.

Glaring at the offending metal, I pushed the door open and made my way to the tiny bathroom on one side of the basement. Tucking my med kit away after using the toilet, I quickly switched over laundry and beeline to my bed. I collapsed on it heavily, asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

POV: Echo

Slow, steady footsteps on the basement stairs jar me from my sleep. My bed, if you can even call it that, is nothing more than a thin foam mattress on the damp basement floor. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I flip onto my back, focusing on slowing my racing heart.

Reminding myself that there is no way it can be him, it's absolutely not possible. He is away for meetings in another pack and isn't due back for another couple of days.

My eyes dart to the long, narrow window above the laundry machines. The half-moon shining high in the sky tells me it is nowhere near morning yet. I turned my head and looked toward the door; the steps still coming down.

I quickly glance around the basement, and even though it's too dark to actually see anything, I have the layout of the room committed to memory from long hours spent down here. Industrial-sized washers and dryers, the massive laundry folding table, multiple shelves filled with folded clothes and linen, varying sorted dirty piles, and baskets of folded laundry.

Although I already know there is nowhere to hide down here, I can't help looking for one every time. Unless I count my measly bathroom, which I don't, it's carefully laid out, so that there is nowhere for me to go.

However, I do seriously debate hiding in the galvanized steel trough that they call my bathtub, but it's quickly vetoed when the panic of being held underwater until I pass out floods over me. That idea backfired horribly the last time I tried it, and I had no desire to repeat the near drowning.

I froze when I heard the footsteps stop just outside the basement door. The sound of the door being unlocked, and the doorknob turning, shattering the abrupt silence, and snapping me back to the matter at hand. Sucking in a deep breath, I force my body to remember how to breathe, desperately wishing I could just disappear.

'Please be someone looking for clean sheets... Please don't be him, please don't be him.' I mentally chanted while listening to the door slowly swing open, as though whoever opened it was in no hurry to enter the room.

My body reacts immediately, trembling like a leaf the moment his scent drifts across the room. The mix of cedar and vanilla filled me with a nauseating dread. He is back far too early for it to be for good reasons.

Listening as he stepped into the room, I noticed right away that he was now light on his feet. Firmly shutting the door, he locks it with his personal key, one no one else has a copy of. I know no one will interrupt whatever he has planned for tonight. Straining my ears, I continue to listen for his movements but can hear nothing after he puts the key back in his pocket.

This is what he enjoys, prowling in the dark while leaving me trembling in my bed, waiting for his wrath. Not able to stand it anymore, I raised my head and squinted through the dark, silent basement, needing to know where he was. I shivered, still fully clothed, so tired I hadn't even pulled my thin blanket over myself before falling asleep.

Sitting up fully, I strained my eyes and ears, scanning the surrounding darkness, trying desperately to locate him in the dark. I scoot back on my mattress until my back presses against the icy wall, grounding myself to keep the panic at bay. Taking several deep breaths, I try to figure out a plan of action.

The only thing I can think about doing is getting to my flashlight so that I'll be able to see where he is. Being a werewolf, I shouldn't even need the help of a flashlight to see in the dark, but my heightened senses have been weak at best, and almost non-existent at worst. Currently, I'd say my sight is probably worse than a human's with how long I've gone without food now.

Stretching my hand to the right, I feel for the shelf that holds everything I own in this world. A couple of faded t-shirts, and even more worn-out leggings. Socks with holes, stretched-out bras, and panties. Several ponytails, a hairbrush that's missing more bristles than it has, a toothbrush that's well past its prime.

Skimming across my belongings with my fingertips, I search for the spot where I tucked the forbidden object away for safekeeping. I hesitate when I find it, knowing that using it now will, without a doubt, cost me dearly. The aura of unbridled rage that came rippling across the room like a suffocating wave made the choice for me, as it slammed into me with breathtaking force. His meeting did not end well, and I must have been his first stop after returning to the pack. Unable to wait in suspense anymore, I slipped the flashlight out of its hiding place.

Breathless and on the verge of complete and utter panic, I snatched the flashlight from the shelf and clutched it to my chest. Flicking it on, I blinked in the sudden harsh light. As soon as my eyes adjust, I scan the room for the wolf that is stalking through the dark.

Sweeping the light in a wide arc around the room to the left, I saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. If it wasn't for his scent burning my nostrils, I would truly believe I had dreamed of his arrival. Continuing past the door, I sweep over the shelves full of clean sheets, moving toward the bathroom, where I finally find him. Leaning against my bathroom doorframe, only a couple of feet away from me, his eyes fixed on me in a deadly glare.

He grins menacingly as the scent of my terror permeates the air around us. It feels as though all the air has been sucked from my lungs; the light bouncing violently in my shaking hands as I desperately try to think of a way out. Coming up empty, I merely stared at him, frozen by the panic flowing through every part of my body, waiting for him to make the first move.

"You shouldn't have that now, should you?" His voice is quiet, some would say charming even. But I know better. I can hear the untold threat of his words. I know what it means to have something in my possession that I'm not supposed to have. Know what the consequences will be.

Jerking my head from side to side, I blink away my tears before they can fall. He's there instantly, jerking me into the air, with my feet dangling, struggling to breathe as he lifts me by the throat.

My flashlight shatters as it skitters across the floor, thrusting us into darkness. Unable to see or breathe, I lose all reservations about my actions and I grip his hand with both of mine, thrashing around, trying to break free of his grip.

"Oh, Echo, the scent of your fear is delicious!" he growls, yanking my body closer. He moves forward quickly, slamming me into the wall behind us and pinning my body with his. Loosening his grip on my throat, just enough to allow me to breathe again, he runs his nose along my collarbone, stopping where my neck meets my shoulder. Inhaling deeply, he scents me, purring at the smell of my panic.

Gasping, I clasped the hand around my throat tightly, allowing my mind to go blank as I tried to think about something else. I have a well-built safe place designed for nights like tonight, letting me numb my mind to the pain of the violence he was about to inflict on my body.

His free hand skims its way under my shirt, icy chills sending shock waves of disgust throughout my body everywhere he touches. I focus on letting go of it all, but am interrupted before I can, as he sensed I was not mentally present. He drags a claw across my ribs, drawing me back to reality abruptly and forcing me to be a part of this twisted game he likes to play.

Unable to hide in my safe place, my body reacts instinctively. My hands released the hand around my throat, one grabbing and halting the wandering hand under my shirt, and the other pulling back and slapping him as hard as I could. My shocked apologies are cut off as he tightens his grip around my throat, drawing his hand from under my shirt. He wipes the tears from my eyes as bright white spots dance across my sight. Kicking my legs feebly, I cannot loosen his deadly grip.

"I am going to have some fun tonight." He breathes, running his nose along my jaw, nipping sharply at my ear. I shudder, a whimper caught in my throat as the lack of oxygen plunges me headfirst into nothingness.

POV: Echo

Pain. Extreme, scorching pain drags me back to consciousness. An intense burning sensation that radiates from my back all over my body.

Swallowing the whimper building in my throat, I remain still as I listen for any signs he hasn't left yet. Lying face down on the cold cement floor of the basement with the back of my shirt shredded, my body was wracked with involuntary shivers.

Hearing nothing, I slowly opened my eyes, staring in shock at the fresh red stains on the surrounding floor. I drew in a sharp breath, nearly gagging at the thick scent of my blood as it combined with cedar and vanilla.

"You've finally joined me," he sneers wickedly. "I hope you don't mind, but I kept myself busy while I waited for you to wake up."

His finger traced across my back, near but not quite touching the source of the burning. I can't help but flinch away from it, sending another wave of pain shooting from my back.

Feeling his intense gaze on my face, I close my eyes in defeat, not wanting to know what he's done to me this time. "LOOK AT ME!" he growls, grabbing my chin and jerking me up and towards him, jolting me to a kneeling position. Pain explodes across my back as a scream tears its way out of my throat. I can feel blood dripping down my back, and while my healing is slowed because of the years of starvation, it should have at least stopped bleeding by now, seeing as the blood on the floor is long dried.

Tightening his grip until it felt like he might just crush my jaw, he snarls. "Open. Your. Eyes." I instantly obey, unable to withstand the additional pain, and he loosens his hold to a bearable pressure. "Good," he purrs, "now you can see my handy work!"

Wrenching me into a standing position, earning himself another scream as he drags me by my chin into the tiny bathroom. Roughly turning me so my back faces the tiny sink and the cracked mirror above it, he glances back at the mirror on the wall as he positions me just so in front of it.

Knowing I wouldn't have one, he pulls a hand mirror out of his back pocket and holds it in front of my face, angling it so I can see the mirror behind me. Even though I know I will probably get into more trouble than I already am, I stare straight ahead, ignoring the mirror, desperately not wanting to see what he's done.

Shooting daggers at me with his eyes, he gives a hearty chuckle before lowering the mirror. He steps closer, leaning his face towards me until our foreheads are almost touching, his grip tightening on my jaw.

Smiling, he stares into my eyes before brushing his nose along my jawline to my neck. "Mmmm, I can never get enough of the smell of you like this," he whispers into my ear, licking and nipping it gently as I tremble in disgust.

"Come on little doll, take a peek in the mirror for me, okay? After all, it's rude to complain about an early birthday present, isn't it?" His voice drips with charm, his new pet name for me making my stomach turn.

I blink in confusion. An early birthday present? No one has celebrated my birthday in the last ten years, and like everything else, I'd forgotten the date. I only know that I turn 20 this year but don't know when.

Grinning wickedly after seeing that his comment had the desired effect, he stepped back. Tightening his grip on my jaw ever so slightly, to remind me of my place, he raises the mirror again.

When I hesitate again, he raises his eyebrows at me and clears his throat, a signal that he is losing patience with me. Knowing that the alternative would be a lot worse, I took a steadying breath and slowly raised my eyes to the small mirror.

Staring blankly at the mirror behind me, it takes a moment to understand the words while reading them in reverse. When I work out what it says, I finally release the gut-wrenching sobs that have been threatening to surface since he first opened the basement door.

My entire back is a bloody mess, and he has carved four large words into my skin, four devastating words:

PROPERTY

OF

ALPHA

BRADY

"No!" I sob, "No, no, no!". Ripping my chin from his vice-like grip, I tore chin from his grip, putting some space between us. My chest feels tight, and I feel like I can't breathe properly as I take gasping breaths of too little air. Stumbling out of the bathroom, I rushed toward the door in a panicked daze.

It's bad enough that I'd lived here like a slave for the last ten years, barely fending off this perverted Alpha of a pack that's never been mine. Now, I was branded like an animal, labelled property, owned, claimed by my tormentor.

No wolf would ever want me now. No one would ever dare to lay their hands on the property of an Alpha.

"I knew you'd love it! Now no one will touch what's mine!" He growls possessively as I reached the door, yanking on it, remembering too late that he locked it when he came in. Whipping around, I shrieked at his unexpected closeness. He pushes forward, pinning me against the door, his eyes burning with a dangerous mix of anger and lust.

I arch my back away from the hard surface, crying out in pain. His arms block my escape on either side, and his body presses tightly against mine before he pushes his face into my hair, breathing deeply.

"Once you turn twenty, you can sense your mate, and he can sense you. I won't have anyone else put their hands on my favourite toy!" He whispers seductively in my ear, pressing a kiss behind it. "Now, you are mine, all MINE! No wolf, not even your mate, will want a woman with my name, an Alpha's name, on her." His husky voice filled with desire makes me shudder as he confirms my thoughts from earlier.

My knees buckle as my last hope is ripped away from me. I allow myself to drift, no longer caring to fight the darkness threatening to pull me under. My final thought passes through my mind before I succumb to it's current.

'I am never getting out of here.'