Page 23 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
Two kneels and laces a ribbon at my waist, cinching it tight, then another at my collarbone, tying it in a delicate bow.
Like a present to be unwrapped.
Like a bride.
My stomach churns.
I grab for the towel again, but Two stops me, her fingers gentle, but firm.
"No use," she says. "You’re to wear this tonight—for the ceremony."
I stop breathing.
“The ceremony?” I ask. “Please—tell me what my father plans to do with me. I have to know.”
“Your father…”
Two trails off, chewing on her lip. She takes my hand a moment later, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I can’t,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
She pulls away quickly and strides toward the door, opening it to reveal Ephraim on the other side. He gives me an ugly glare when he sees how I’m dressed, looking away like he’s disgusted.
“Come here, Esther,” he says.
I walk forward like the meek, stupid girl I am.
“Back to your room,” he says. “You’ll wait there until it’s time for the ceremony—and don’t try anything.”
“What ceremony?” I ask, but Ephraim shoots me a scowl.
“You don’t get to talk anymore,” he says. “Not after what you did.”
So I shut my mouth.
I won’t say a word.
All I know is that tonight, in this pretty dress, something very ugly is going to happen to me.
6
JAVI
Ilean against the railing, watching the storm roll in. Too much wind. Too many waves. If we took the skiff out now, we'd capsize before we even hit open water.
We're stuck for another night.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not on the Rig. Not near these people. Not when everything about this place makes my skin itch.
I’ve worked in shitholes before—fought on barges, lived on coastal wrecks, seen the worst of the south. But this?
This is barbaric.
I’ve seen the way Gideon runs things, the way his men take whatever they want, unchecked. There’s no order here, no structure—just raw, feral hierarchy, built on who can rip out whose throat first.
And it’s not just the way they keep communal women in the mess, or the way Gideon’s generals swagger around like rabid dogs, waiting for someone to throw them a bone.
It’s her.
It’s the fact that I know where she is right now, locked away somewhere cold, waiting, vulnerable.
