4 Alphas, 1 True Mate

**Warning: This story contains depictions of s****l assault, imprisonment, and other criminal acts. If you are uncomfortable with such content, please do not continue.** Emma's POV: Hands. Multiple hands. Crawling over my body like spiders. Rough fingers dig into my waist. One hand cups my breast—squeezes so hard I gasp. "Nice t**s on this one—firm, ripe—" Another hand. Shoving between my legs. Groping. Pressing through the thin fabric of my dress. I scream. Consciousness slams back into me. My eyes fly open to darkness. I'm moving. The cart beneath me rattles and jerks over uneven ground. My hands are numb behind my back. What—where am I—what's happening— Memory crashes back. I'm Beta Mark Reid's daughter. This morning I had breakfast with my family. My mother smiled at me across the table. My father kissed the top of my head before leaving for patrol. This morning I had an Alpha fiancé who held my hand and promised me the world. In 6 months I was supposed to become his Luna. Today was the annual festival in Silver Moon territory. I remember an old woman with kind eyes and weathered hands offering me a cup—"Apple juice for such a beautiful girl. Please, I insist. Freshly pressed." The taste was sweet. Something chemical underneath. Then the world tilted. My legs gave out. Then nothing. Until now. I was drugged and kidnapped! I turn my head—the movement makes the world spin—and moonlight shows other girls. Four. Five. All bound like me. "Stay quiet back there." A voice from the front of the cart. Male. Gravelly. Amused. "Unless you want me to f**k you." Laughter erupts. Multiple male voices. They are rogues！Human traffickers！ The thought steals the air from my lungs. I'm from a respected family. Beta blood. This shouldn't be possible! The cart jerks to a stop. They drag us out one by one. I see a woman enter. She covered in age spots and deep wrinkles. She moves down the line of girls. Checking faces. Pulling back lips to examine teeth—like we're horses at auction. She reaches me. Her fingers dig into my jaw, forces my face up. "Well, well." Her voice rasps like sandpaper on stone. "Premium goods. Look at this one." "Another pretty face?" The trafficker leader said. "Not. Like. This." The old woman's hands move over my body—touching, groping, assessing. "This face—look at these cheekbones, this jawline. This skin—like cream, not a blemish. This bone structure—" Her hands grab my breasts through my torn dress. Squeeze hard. I cry out. "Perfect proportions. Hourglass figure. And young—Eighteen?" She laughs. "Fully matured but still fresh." Her hands move lower. Trailing down my stomach. "No—" I thrash. Violent. Desperate. "Don't—DON'T TOUCH ME—" She shoves her hand under my skirt anyway. Between my legs. I scream. The sound tears from my throat raw and animal. I twist. Buck. But rough hands grab my shoulders from behind. Her fingers probe. Push. I'm going to die right here— Her expression is greedy. "Virgin." She said, "Completely untouched. And tight—so tight—" She turns to the leader. Eyes gleaming like a predator's. "This one will make a man lose his mind. She'll feel like paradise wrapped around his cock." Nausea rolls through me in waves. "How much?" The leader pushes off the wall. Steps closer. Studies me with new interest. The old woman grins, "Two fortunes at least. This quality doesn't come around often." "Great." The leader gestures to his men. "Prep her proper." "NO!" I find my voice. It comes out hoarse. Broken. "I'm Beta Mark Reid's daughter! Silver Moon Pack will come for me! They'll hunt you down! They'll—" The leader's boot catches me in the ribs. I curl around it. "They won't find you, sweetheart," he says conversationally, "Even if they did find you—by then you'll belong to someone else——someone they won't dare challenge." He nods to his men. "Bag her. Keep her separate from the others. This one's special merchandise." Rough burlap descends over my head. I struggle. But it's useless. Darkness. Movement. Time loses meaning. When consciousness returns, the hood is gone.I'm kneeling on cold marble. I blink. Focus. The room is too beautiful to be real. Silk curtains the color of fresh blood hang from floor to ceiling. Marble floors polished so bright I can see my reflection—pale, terrified, mascara streaked down my cheeks. Gold fixtures gleam in lamplight. Artwork on the walls—paintings worth more than my family's entire house. And standing in the center of it all—watching me with cold, calculated amusement—is the most beautiful monster I've ever seen. Lucian Hale. Golden hair falls past his shoulders in waves that catch the lamplight like spun silk. His face could have been carved by the gods—sharp cheekbones, full lips, perfect symmetry. But his eyes—vivid purple, like crushed amethyst—they're wrong. Cold. Empty. Like looking into the eyes of a beautiful corpse. He circles me slowly. A predator stalking prey. I know the stories. Everyone knows the stories. Red Claw's second son. Spoiled rotten by his doting mother. Volatile. Unpredictable. Cruel beyond measure. The servants whisper about him in hushed, terrified tones—how he had a maid whipped to death for spilling wine on his favorite shirt. How he shot a stable hand through both hands for not bowing fast enough. How he once beat a guard unconscious for looking at him wrong. No. Please. Anyone but him. "You're even prettier than they promised," he murmurs. His voice is smooth. Cultured. At odds with the monster underneath. "Worth every coin. Every single one." My voice shakes. "I'm Emma Reid. Daughter of Mark Reid, Beta of the Silver Moon Pack. There's been a mistake. My family—" "Your family?" He laughs. The sound makes ice crawl down my spine. Settle in my stomach. "Little wolf, no one's coming for you." He crouches in front of me. Eye level now. "You're mine. I bought you. Fair and square." "There's been a mistake." Tears blur my vision. "I'm engaged. I have a fiancé. An Alpha. He'll—" "Doesn't matter." His fingers brush my cheek. Gentle. Almost tender. I flinch away. His smile widens—pleased by my fear. "I paid two fortunes for you. You belong to me now. Body and soul." "My father will pay anything!" Desperation makes my voice crack. "Name your price! Silver Moon will—" "Will do nothing." He stands. Starts unlacing his shirt. Slowly. Deliberately. "Because by the time they figure out where you are—if they ever do—you'll already be broken in. Used. Mine." I try to run. My legs don't work right. Numb from kneeling. I stumble. Fall. He catches me before I hit the ground. Lifts me like I weigh nothing. "No—NO—" I thrash. Kick. Scream. He drops me onto silk sheets that smell like cedar and bergamot. The bed is massive. Posts carved from dark wood. More blood-red curtains. I scramble backward. My hands are still bound. I can't balance right. He catches my ankle. Yanks me back toward him. "Let me go! PLEASE—" He climbs onto the bed. Over me. His weight presses down. I can't breathe. Can't think. I open my mouth. Sink my teeth into his left wrist. Hard. I taste copper. Blood floods my mouth. He doesn't even flinch. His right hand closes around my throat. Not choking—just holding. A promise of what he could do. "The more you fight," he whispers against my ear, breath hot on my skin, "the more I like it. So please—keep struggling." His hand—one hand—pins both my wrists above my head. The other rips my dress. The sound of tearing fabric fills the room. "No—please—please don't—" His body presses down. Crushing. Suffocating. His weight pins me completely. I keep fighting. Bucking. Twisting. Screaming until my throat is raw. Until I can't anymore. Until my wrists are bruised purple. Until my voice gives out. Until everything inside me breaks. When he finally rolls off me, I feel wetness between my thighs. Warm. Sticky. I look down. Blood. Dark red. Spreading across white silk sheets like a blooming rose. I curl into myself. Make myself as small as possible. And cry. When I open my eyes, Lucian's already gone. A guard enters. He dumps me in a different room. Smaller. Barred windows. "Get used to it," he says. Locks the door with a heavy clang. "The young master likes his new toys." I'm locked in the house most of the time. Some days Lucian comes for me. I learn quickly—fighting excites him. Crying amuses him. Begging makes it worse. Other days I sit alone. Stare at the bars on the windows. Try to remember what my mother's face looked like when she smiled. I tell every guard. Every servant. Anyone who'll listen. "I'm Beta's daughter. My family will come. They'll pay anything. Please—just tell them where I am—" No one cares. I stop bathing. Stop brushing my hair. It becomes a matted, greasy nest. I smear dirt on my skin. Tear my clothes deliberately. Rub ash from the fireplace on my face. Make myself as filthy and disgusting as possible. Maybe if I'm repulsive enough, he'll lose interest. Maybe he'll throw me out. He doesn't. "Even covered in s**t," he says one day, dragging me to the bath by my hair, "you're still mine. Still the prettiest thing I own." He scrubs me clean himself. Then takes me anyway. I turn 18 in captivity. I should get my wolf on my birthday. I wait for her. Pray for her. Beg the Moon Goddess. She appears briefly in my mind—a beautiful white wolf with silver eyes. Weak. Flickering like a dying flame. Then she's gone. I can't feel her anymore. Can't hear her. The bond is severed. The mirror shows what I've become. Hollow eyes ringed with dark circles. Paper-pale skin stretched tight over bones. Ribs jutting sharp beneath skin like piano keys. A ghost. Wearing my face like a mask. Six months later. Tonight is supposed to be my escape. Red Claw's entire fortress blazes with celebration—the eldest son's return after twelve years away. I hear the music from my room. Loud. Raucous. Guards drunk on wine and ale. Doors left unguarded. Lucian distracted by ceremony and crowds and his brother's homecoming. The perfect opportunity. A chambermaid unlocks my door. "Run," she whispers. "Now." Five of us run. Slaves like me. We slip through corridors. Down servants' stairs. Through the kitchen. Out the back door. The forest edge is so close. Just across the lawn. Two hundred yards. We run. We make it to the trees before the alarm bells shatter the night. The sound is deafening. Echoing. Multiplying. "STOP THEM! ESCAPED SLAVES! LOOSE IN THE FOREST!" Hounds. Baying. Howling. The sound makes my blood run cold. Boots. Thundering. Dozens of them. Torches. Blazing through darkness. Turning night into hellish day. We run faster. Branches whip my face. Roots try to trip me. I keep going. Mara falls first. Too slow. Too weak. Then Sara. An arrow sprouts from her back—sudden, impossible. Blood blooming across her dress. I keep running. Lungs burning. Legs screaming. Tears streaming down my face. Lila. Running to my left. An arrow punches through her chest. Clean through. The tip emerges from her back, dripping. She crumples. Blood spreads across her dress. Another girl. Arrow through the spine. Bodies. So many bodies. Littering the ground behind me like broken dolls. The cliff edge appears suddenly. I skid to a stop. My feet slide in loose dirt. Pebbles scatter over the edge. Disappear into darkness below. The drop is massive. Two hundred feet. Maybe more. Jagged rocks at the bottom—I can see them in the moonlight. Sharp. Unforgiving. Certain death. Footsteps behind me. Slow. Deliberate. Not rushed. I turn. Lucian stands at the forest edge. Bow in hand. An arrow nocked but not drawn. Golden hair disheveled from running. Jacket open. Shirt unlaced. Those purple eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. But it's not just anger in his gaze. It's hurt. Betrayal. Like I've wounded him somehow. Behind him—dozens of guards. All armed. My legs tremble. Threaten to buckle. The cliff edge is inches behind my heels. One step back and I'm gone. No escape forward. No escape back. Trapped. "Six months I kept you," Lucian snarls. His voice shakes. "And THIS is how you repay me?" "Repay you?" The words explode from my throat. "You RAPED me, you sick f**k! You BOUGHT me like I was furniture! You kept me in a CAGE like an ANIMAL—" "I SAVED you!" His voice rises, echoing off the rocks. "You were going to some fat merchant's bed! Some disgusting old man who would've used you and thrown you away! At least I—" "At least you WHAT?" I'm screaming now. Shaking with rage. "At least you're YOUNG? At least you're PRETTY? You're still a MONSTER! You're still a RAPIST! You're still the most pathetic piece of s**t I've ever—" His face goes white. Then red. Purple. Like I've slapped him. "Come back." His voice is tight. Controlled. Dangerous. "Now." "f**k you." "Come back or I swear to God—" "Or WHAT?" A broken laugh tears from my throat. Hysteric. Manic. "You'll kill me? GOOD! Do it! PLEASE—just f*****g DO IT!" I spread my arms wide. Bare my chest to him. "SHOOT ME! Put an arrow through my heart! You're such a good archer, right? You NEVER miss! So PROVE IT!" Lucian's hand trembles. He draws the bowstring back. Slowly. The arrow points directly at my heart. Everyone knows he's the finest archer on the continent. Supernatural aim. He can put an arrow through a man's eye from three hundred paces. I'm twenty feet away. He won't miss. My heel touches the cliff's edge. Pebbles scatter. I hear them hitting rocks below. The sound takes several seconds. That's how far the drop is. "Don't—" Lucian's voice changed. "Don't do this—" "If going to hell," I say clearly, each word precise, "means getting away from you—I'll walk through those gates SMILING." His eyes go wide. Horrified. "EMMA—" I turn around. The abyss yawns below me. Deep. Endless. Final. The wind whips my hair. My torn dress. The cold bites my skin. I can hear Lucian screaming behind me. Hear guards shouting. Hear someone running toward me. Moon Goddess, please forgive me. Please let this be the end. I close my eyes. Take a breath. And jump.