Page 2 of Brutal Alpha's Sold Mate
Before I can turn back to the girl, the sound of a door slamming upstairs sends every instinct into overdrive. Two figures step into view, their faces illuminated by the single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Malcolm’s greasy hair sticks to his face. Wiley stands beside him with a coiled net in his hands and an eager glint in his eyes.
“Well, well,” Malcolm drawls, his voice slick with false charm. “Look who decided to drop by.”
“Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to come alone,” Wiley adds, his grin all teeth.
“Didn’t think you’d still be alive,” I shoot back, bearing mine.
Malcolm chuckles. “You’ve been a real pain in our asses, little wolf. I think it’s time for an obedience lesson, young lady.”
Wiley moves suddenly, tossing the net with precision. I dodge, but not fast enough. The heavy ropes slam into me, pinning my arms and legs as I crash to the ground.
“You bastards,” I snarl, struggling against the ropes.
“Easy now,” Malcolm faux-soothes. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
He laughs and stands as Wiley approaches with a vial of something dark and swirling.
“This’ll keep you nice and docile,” Wiley taunts, uncorking the vial with a flourish.
I bare my teeth at him, a low growl rumbling in my throat. My wolf stirs, the instinct to shift coursing through me like fire. I let the change come, willing my body to twist, to break free of this pathetic trap. But instead of the familiar rush of power, pain lances through me. My muscles spasm, locking up, and the shift slips away like water through pebbles.
“What the—” I jerk harder against the ropes.
Wiley grins and steps closer. “Oh, you’re feeling it, aren’t you? That itch, that spark you can’t quite catch. Poor thing. The potion’s already working.”
The smell hits me—chemical, bitter, cloying. My wolf, the part of me that’s always been ready and always there, retreats farther into the fog clouding my mind. Panic rises in its place.
“Try all you want,” Malcolm comments as he crouches to look me in the eye. “That wolf of yours? She’s not coming out to play again anytime soon.”
I snarl, thrashing harder, willing my body to shift, to respond. But every attempt only makes the ropes dig deeper. The potion’s poison tightens its grip.
The liquid drips onto the ropes, and the world tilts violently. My vision blurs, Malcolm’s smirking face the last thing I see before darkness swallows me whole.
***
When I come to, my head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. My limbs are impossibly heavy. The first thing I register is the cold bite of metal digging into my wrists. I blink against the haze, piecing together fractured images—the smug grins of Malcolm and Wiley, the vile sting of whatever they doused me with, and the sensation of being dragged like a sack of grain.
The room I’m in is stark and clinical, not at all what I expected from their usual rundown hideouts. Fluorescent lights are bright overhead, and everything reeks of disinfectant mixed with that metallic tang of blood. The walls are a pristine white, marred only by a series of scratches near the corner, like someone’s fingernails raked against them in desperation.
I adjust my weight, testing the restraints. My wrists are cuffed to a chair bolted to the floor. Chains loop around my ankles, securing me in place. Silver, by the feel of it. Great. They’re finally learning.
“Well, looky here,” a familiar voice starts. “Look who’s awake.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” I tell him, tugging at the cuffs for emphasis. “Because as soon as I’m out of here, you’re dead.”
Wiley sidles up beside him, twirling a vial of something dark and viscous between his fingers. The same liquid he used to knock me out. “You always have so much fight in you, little wolf. Makes what comes next so much more satisfying.”
“You’re compensating for something, aren’t you?” I shoot back. “What’s the matter, Wiley? Can’t find yourself a mate who will put up with your ugly mug, so you have to go around kidnapping shewolves to find one?”
His grin falters, but Malcolm claps a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Wiley. She’s just trying to rile you up. Save the theatrics for later.”
They exchange a look before Malcolm turns back to me. “You see, we’ve got plans, little wolf. Big plans. And you? You’re going to help us. Whether you want to or not.”
“Pass,” I snap.
“Not really an option,” Malcolm retorts, tilting his head. “Bring it in.”
