CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Cynthia

I stare at the marks on my back. The new welts are a purplish red, some of them gaping open and bleeding, and I know they will take weeks to heal. But they will never disappear. I gingerly touch them and wince. At least the bleeding has stopped.

One would think I would be used to it by now.

I’ve spent twenty-four years like this, receiving a whipping every Sunday to remind me of my family’s sins. The four-year-old confused and frightened child who had entered this house had cried and begged. She had apologized all the time, trying to make herself invisible. The twenty-eight-year-old woman who is staring back at me in the mirror no longer screams. It doesn’t hurt any less. Now, I get a sick satisfaction from seeing the irritation in the eyes of Jonathon Moore, the man who took me from my father’s home, as he tries to break me.

But you can’t break what’s already been broken.

My silverish hair is tied up in a loose bun, my pale blue eyes dull. And yet, after all this time, my fire has not diminished.

I look at myself in the mirror and move achingly slowly as I pick up my shirt, not even bothering with the ointment on the shelf. It doesn’t help with the scarring. Special wolfsbane is applied to the jagged whip, so the scars remain.

I glance at the wall clock. It’s twelve at night.

Buttoning up my shirt. I study the woman in the mirror, murmuring, "Happy birthday. You made it one more year."

Picking up my bag, I head down from the attic which once used to be my bedroom. The house is dark and empty. Jonathon’s wife, Lirilla, isn’t home. I saw her leave when I came over. She never stays when I come over. When I first arrived, the child I had been thought she felt sorry for me. But I found out very quickly that she not only approved but found me disgusting. As far as the rest of the pack knows, the Alpha, Jonathon, is sponsoring me, a girl from the slums. Only I know the truth. Jonathon’s children either don’t know or don’t care enough.

Speaking of his children, I see movement in the kitchen, and I go still. The sound of the fridge slamming makes my jaw tense. I know Jonathon is already in bed. The only one around at this time would be…

Norman Moore walks out of the kitchen, a beer in his hand.

I don’t have to sniff him to know how drunk he is.

That’s all Norman is ever good for. Unlike his successful older brother, Adam, who left this house when he was sixteen, Norman has been nothing short of a disappointment to his father. The only things he’s interested in are women, partying, and getting drunk. If he has any other goal in his life, it’s to show up his older brother, something he fails at miserably. The only reason he’s still in this house is because Jonathon still has hopes for him.

"Oye!" Norman calls out to me, and I go still, slowly looking over my shoulder.

"What?"

"What’re you doing here?" He wanders over and the stench of alcohol around him makes me want to gag.

"Leaving," I respond before beginning to walk away. However, he grabs my wrist, forcing me toward him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snap, trying to break free of his hold, and failing.

"You’d better watch that tone of yours," he sneers at me. "Dad’s not the only one who knows how to put you in your place."

As if to prove his point, he slaps his other hand on my wounded back, smirking when I hiss in pain. Taking advantage of his inebriety, I kick him in the ankle, jumping away from him.

"Don’t touch me, you creep!"

Norman’s eyes turn into tiny slits. "You’d better watch it. If I go to Dad––"

"He already told you to stay away from me," I sneer back.

That is the only thing I am grateful to Jonathon for. When Normal began to display interest in me when we were teenagers, his father nipped the situation in the bud. I got a good beating for luring his son in, while he told Norman to not engage with me. His reasoning was so as not to taint his bloodline or something of the sort. Not that I care.

As long as his pathetic son kept his greasy mitts off me, I didn’t give a rat’s ass what Jonathon’s reasoning was. Norman has always watched me with those beady eyes filled with greed. Most of his greed stems from the fact that I am a forbidden fruit, and he has been raised to believe that he has a right to take whatever he lays his eyes on.

"You bitch!"

He grabs my wrist and I snarl, "Try it and I will scream this house down!"

"You think Dad will blame me?" Norman gives me a smarmy smile. "I just have to tell him you were coming on to me and he’ll peel the skin off your back even more."

"I’d prefer that," I give him a cold smile, "over your disgusting touch."

He lifts his hand, and I see his unsheathed claws. I don’t hesitate, ducking down and twisting my hand so it grips around his wrist in a tight hold. In a heartbeat, I slam him down on the ground, the sound echoing in the empty house.

"You b––"

I can already hear the door slamming upstairs, and my eyes widen. Grabbing my bag from where it has fallen, I rush toward the front door. However, I know I won’t make it in time, so I quickly turn around and say loudly, "Oh, no! Norman! Are you alright?"

There are footsteps on the stairs, and a gray-haired man turns the corner, frowning. "What is going on?"

Norman opens his mouth, glaring at me, struggling to get up, but I don’t give him a chance to speak. "He was drinking and I think he fell over his feet. Are you okay, Norman? Should I get you some water?"

"Dad––"

"I told you to stop drinking so much." Jonathon’s brow furrows. "And what’re you still doing here, Cynthia? I told you to go back."

"I was." I look over my shoulder. "I just wanted to get something from the kitchen to eat. I don’t have any food at home."

The Alpha gives me an annoyed look, but since I also have to help him in business affairs, starving me has no merit for him. "Tony will drop you home. Get some groceries on the way. He has my card."

I nod. "Thank you."

I hurry out to where a dark car is already waiting for me. Tony, a tall, muscled, and quiet man in a chauffeur uniform, is already waiting by the driver’s seat. On seeing me, he holds open the car door.

"Jonathon said I could get some groceries," I tell him. "Can we stop at the supermarket on the way? He said I can use his card."

Tony nods.

He carefully closes the door behind me when I get in before getting into the driver’s seat.

Tony has been with Jonathon since I remember. He’s always been a silent type, but I don’t trust him one bit. As a child, I thought I could confide in him. I wanted to run away. I told him my plan, hoping he would help me. In return, Jonathon was waiting for me that night when I attempted to sneak out, and I got my ass handed to me in painful ways.

That was the night I realized there was no one in this house who was willing to protect me. Tony was Jonathon’s right-hand man, one he trusted above anything. He was the one who drove me back and forth from my apartment to the house, and if I had to go anywhere else, he would be the one to drive me. When he wasn’t driving me, he was parked outside my house, keeping an eye on me.

I stare out the window at the dark city rushing past us and recall the day I had been told that I would now be living in my own apartment. I was also informed of the blood debt that tied me to the Moore family, or, to be more specific, to the Alpha of the Moore family. Any attempts to escape from the Alpha would result in a painful death. The blood debt would turn my blood to acid inside my body.

That was the day I finally gave up on my desire to return to my parents’ home. I lift my hands to study the thin blue line that has always encompassed both my wrists like an inked bracelet. This line signifies the blood debt between me and the Moore’s Alpha. My father had held out my hands when Jonathon came to fetch me, and both Jonathon and him had made me swear the blood oath–me, a child, one who knew nothing of the horrors that awaited me. But my parents knew, and they had sent me off willingly. Anything to save their son’s life.

The car stops at one of the 24/7 superstores, and I hold out my hand.

Tony studies me through the rearview window. "Tell me what you need and I’ll get it."

My jaw tightens. "I have to get some personal hygiene products as well, and I’d prefer to get them myself."

He stares at me for a minute before reaching into his wallet and handing me the card.

I hurry inside.

I rarely get an opportunity like this, but when I do, I tend to take full advantage. Grabbing regular groceries, I add plenty of feminine hygiene products without looking. The cashier gives me an odd look at the twenty packets. However, he adds it all up and swipes the card I hand him. It’s once he’s packing the groceries that I pretend to count the hygiene products and look shocked. "Oh, crap! I was supposed to get five!"

He gives me an annoyed look. "Lady, you should have counted them."

The receipt is already in my hand and I fold it into my pocket before I use my voice sweet and ask, "Can you just return the rest? You can give me cash instead. I don’t mind."

The cashier sighs in annoyance but proceeds to remove the items and takes out the cash. He draws up a return receipt and hands me a bunch of bills. I quickly flatten them out and tuck them in my jeans pocket. Picking up the bags, I crumple the new receipt and toss it into the trash bin as I walk out.

Tony is waiting for me by the car, and he eyes the bags in my hands. He holds out his hand for the receipt and is about to take the bags from me, but I shake my head. "It’s okay."

He doesn’t insist, and I stuff the bags in the back seat next to me.

When we reach my apartment complex, I sigh in relief. This might be another prison for me, but at least there’s no one waiting inside to torture me. And since Jonathon has to keep up appearances in our pack, he picked a luxurious area. My apartment, by itself, is small, my furnishings bare, but I don’t care.

It’s still a haven for me.

I take the elevator to the fifth floor and, once the door of my apartment is securely closed behind me, I let out a whoosh of breath, my knees trembling.

My back is burning right now.

Stripping off my clothes, I head to the shower.

I let the cold water run over my open wounds, my hand over my mouth to muffle my screams. I finally summon up the courage to pick up the long cloth stick to run over the wounds to clean them. Even wolf shifters can get infections if their wounds don’t heal. I sit in the bathtub, knees drawn to my chest. Even now, I feel a surge of helplessness, of suffocation.

Sometimes, I wonder if my parents ever regretted sealing my fate so knowingly, if my brother ever realized what his actions did to his sister. I’ve nearly forgotten their faces and voices, but this anger and hate inside me is like a furnace.

They all probably thought I wouldn’t make it past a few days.

My hand curls into a fist, jaw tight.

I’ll survive. I’ll always survive.

I made that vow to myself. In this world, it’s just me, and I will never fall.

Forcing myself to my feet, I turn off the water and grab a towel. Wiping myself down, I grab the sealing gel and stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, carefully applying it over my open wounds. All this will do is cover the torn flesh.

Grabbing a loose t-shirt from my wardrobe, I pull it on, pairing it with a pair of shorts, and then head to the groceries that are still lying by the door. I put them away and take out a bowl of soup from the fridge to reheat. As the food reheats on the stove, I stand on one of the chairs, and from the top of the kitchen cabinet, I remove a small box.

Putting it on the island counter, I open it to reveal a bunch of cash.

I add the fifty dollars to the growing pile. Staring down at the bills, I don’t feel an ounce of guilt. I’ve stolen this, all of this, from Jonathon using similar ruses. I’ve managed to accumulate over four thousand dollars. I’ve never spent any of this money. The day I manage to convince him to free me of this blood debt, I will take this money and run. I’ll never look back.

I’ve been working in Jonathon’s office for six years now, and never once have I received a salary. I never even received pocket money. I had to watch his children get showered in nice things and eat good food while I was fed once a day, even with their table scraps. It was only once I was more visible to the pack that he began to dress me in more than rags.

I let out a shuddering breath.

He tried. He tried everything, but he’s never been able to crush my spirit. However, he thinks he has, and I will never let him believe differently.

Counting the cash again, I grin to myself, ridiculously amused by another good haul. The rich scent of the soup cooking makes me quickly close the box and put it back in its hiding place. My apartment is often randomly searched. I can’t escape this blood debt without dying, so I guess it is just Jonathan’s way of humiliating me and reminding me of my place.

Nobody ever thinks to check on the top of the kitchen cabinets. Most probably because of how tiny the space between the top of the cabinet and the ceiling is.

Smiling despite the pain, I sit down to enjoy a hot cup of soup.

*** **

My job title is Personal Assistant. However, I do everything and am involved in every department of the company. The Moore family owns and runs a huge food brand, KDL Foods Inc. Jonathon is the CEO while Norman is supposed to be Managing Director. Not that he does much.

Since I’ve been working here for so long, Jonathon has trusted me with all decisions. He used to simply sign off on my plans and suggestions, and as a result, the company flourished. He barely had to do anything with me running everything in his name. But the moment Norman came on board, everything went askew. Profits declined and the company’s turnover rate rose. Female staff drastically decreased in number once they realized that Norman replaced the HR Head with a friend of his. He never interned here or did any research. He just liked the control.

And every time he messed up, he blamed it on me.

Jonathon preferred to believe that the girl from the slums was the reason behind his company shares falling. I was the one who was constantly punished for it. I still am. The only upside is that now Jonathon checks each and every decision of mine, so Norman doesn’t have room to blame me. The damage is done, though.

The company’s reputation has been ground in the mud, thanks to Jonathon’s useless drunkard of a son.

I place my bag on my desk, my back aching from yesterday’s whipping. I’m about to sit down when the intercom buzzes. Sighing, I grab my tablet and head into the CEO’s office.

The pack alpha is at his desk, a frown on his face.

He looks up when I enter. "You’re late."

It’s taken years of practice to not roll my eyes when the situation calls for it. I know I’m ten minutes early.

"Sorry."

Jonathon leans back in his chair, his lips twisted. "Have you seen the news?"

"No?" I say, warily. "Did something happen?"

He picks up a remote and unmutes the screen on the wall beside the door. I turn to look at the television and see a reporter talking about canned food that had been served at schools and was way past the expiration date. I close my eyes, already knowing where this is going.

"Why are we sending rotten food to schools?" Jonathon throws the remote at my face, and I flinch when it hits me on the forehead.

However, I keep my voice demure. "It’s the new quality control measures in the factories. I mentioned it in the report––"

"There is no mention of anything––"

"It’s on page five, sir. Norman made some changes, and I outlined the possible issues that could occur––"

He’s already flipping through the report, and his eyes run over the paper. His jaw hardens, and before I can blink, he tosses the report at me, barking, "Why didn’t you tell me this in person?"

I stare at the papers scattered at my feet. I feel numb to this humiliation. I did tell him, and he knows it. But if I remind him, the consequences will be worse for me.

"I’m sorry," I murmur, demurely. "I should have informed you."

He looks away from me, and I let out a shaky breath.

The silence that follows is nerve-wracking, and then he suddenly speaks. "This cannot go on like this. Our shares are plummeting. We’re losing confidence in our customers. If this goes on, Norman will never be able to ascend to the Alpha position."

My head shoots up at those words, shock filling me.

I’ve heard Norman mention a couple of times that he will become the next alpha, but I always chalked it up to arrogance and delusion. The Alpha position has always rightfully belonged to Jonathon’s oldest son, Adam Moore. While I grew up in the same house as both of Jonathon’s sons, I barely ran into Adam. He was always busy with his Alpha classes, and when he wasn’t, he tended to stay away from the house, preferring to live at his aunt’s. I know for a fact that when he was fifteen or sixteen, there was a huge fight, and Adam ended up leaving the family home for good. I’ve not seen him since.

However, he was still the Alpha heir. Nobody has ever stated differently, especially when he set up his own company in direct competition with his father’s. Maril Food Ltd. has been vastly successful, and ever since Norman took over the reins of our company, Adam’s company has grown leaps and bounds.

This is the first time I’ve heard of Jonathon’s intention to replace Adam with Norman.

Before I can stop myself, I find myself asking, "Will the pack be okay with that?"

Instead of getting angry, Jonathon shoots me an arrogant look. "With changing the Alpha heir? As long as Norman can prove himself, they should have no problem. But we need to acquire Maril Food Inc. if we want to be successful. Adam has been building power in the pack for years. Once his company is under mine, he will lose that power."

I blink.

Does he really expect his oldest son to hand over his company so easily?

"You’re intending to acquire the competition?"

"Yes. In fact, I expect you to go for the acquisition meetings, along with Norman." He looks at me.

I simply nod, but his eyes narrow and he leans forward, steepling his fingers together. "I’ll make a deal with you, Cynthia. I’m well aware that you would like nothing more than your freedom. If you put in all your effort to help us acquire Adam’s company, I’ll give it a thought. And if you successfully help me put Norman on the Alpha seat, I will free you from your blood debt."

My heart is pounding in my ears as I stare at him.

This is the first time he’s made an offer like this! Free me from the blood debt?

I will set everything on fire on his orders if I can just be a free woman!

However, after living with these people for so many years, I know not to trust them.

"How do I know you’re not going to back off at the last minute?"

It takes a lot of strength for me to say this, knowing that Jonathon can take this as an insult. But I need assurance.

The Alpha’s eyes spark with anger. "Do you want me to swear a blood oath or something?"

"Yes," I say, simply.

"You ungrateful…" He gets to his feet, his expression twisted in rage, but I cut him off.

"No disrespect, sir," I hold his gaze, damn the consequences, "but I have spent years paying for my brother’s crimes. Norman has made it clear that the fate that awaits me once he becomes the Alpha is going to be no less than that of a whore. So, I need more than simply your words. I want a blood oath."

Jonathon’s eyes are fierce. "It seems your tongue hasn’t been curbed in all these years."

I just stare at him silently.

If Norman becomes Alpha, I would rather die.

Jonathon can probably see I won’t budge, and he scowls. "Fine. I’ll swear a blood oath, but only once Adam’s company has been acquired."

I know for a fact that simply acquiring the company won’t be enough for Norman to become the Alpha. He’s going to drive it into the ground. But if I get on board, I can make him the Alpha by showing my successes as his. And once I’m free, he can burn this pack to the ground as far as I care.

My lips curve.

Jonathon looks irritated. "Get out of my sight. And in the afternoon, you’re going with Norman for the acquisition talks."

I just nod and head out of his office. But as soon as the door closes behind me, a broad smile grows on my lips, my heart thudding in excitement.

Finally, a chance at freedom!