The Alphas Collateral

Amber’s POV:

 As I sat in the dimly lit living room, the weight of my stepfather's words hung heavy in the air. "You're getting married," he declared, his voice devoid of any warmth. The news hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and stunned.

 "But why?" I managed to choke out, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger. "How could you do this to me?"

 My stepfather John, clutched my hair tightly and I hissed in pain, his gaze cold and calculating. "It's for the good of the family, you ungrateful bastard child" he spat with contempt, his tone laced with a twisted sense of obligation.

"You're nothing more than collateral, a means to secure our future at least you're useful in some way mutt"

 I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sold off like a pawn in a twisted game of power and alliances. All because my step-sister Emily was supposed to marry the not only cursed and ruthless alpha, but he was a manwhore and known for his notorious womanizing who even owns a harem and I was nothing more than a convenient substitute for them.

 I retreated to my cramped basement room, and waves of uncertainty crashed over me. The space was minimal, furnished only with a tattered mattress, a weathered oak bedside table, and a wardrobe holding my clothes.

 “What a great way to start my birthday” I inwardly rolled my eyes expecting nothing enthralling on this not-so-special day because I believe I might have wronged the moon goddess in my past life and she’s punishing me with an ill fate in this one.

 Today was supposed to be an incredibly thrilling day for me. But truth be told, I couldn't muster up much excitement because I knew deep down that my potential mate might reject me due to my lack of a wolf and to make matters worse, I was sold off by the people whom I call family in a blink of an eye.

 I am twenty-five already. Majorly, people find their potential mates at the age of eighteen but here I am, growing older and lonelier. With every passing year, my hopes of finding my soulmate wither like a dandelion on a chilly breeze.

 How did I end up in this nightmare? I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, my heartache etched on my face. With long, flowing locks and piercing eyes, I possessed a beauty I couldn't fully comprehend. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder about my true origins. Who was my real father? What secrets lay hidden in my past?

 John never misses an opportunity to unleash his anger on me, treating me like his personal punching bag, a target for all his frustrations.

 I am really scared of him. He is an absolute monster in disguise and he made sure he unveiled himself to me, showing me how deranged he is, raw and unapologetic. He made sure I knew monsters did not exist just in folk ware and fairytales but rather they existed amongst us, just in better clothing and smiling faces.

 An abomination is what I am to them, he said I was born out of wedlock. Not like it was my fault or anything but my mother said my dad had forced himself on her and if that's the case, it explains the amount of disgust they have for me and the anger is justified. I looked nothing like my mother at all.

 My heart is devoid and sad because I do not know who even my father was or if he is still alive or not. I don't even know if he was a wolf or human given the fact that I am still wolfless. I am super fast and strong, possessing the senses sharper than an average human. But I could not blame them at all for hating me, I also loathed my so-called “father” because no matter what he ruined our lives all at the end of the day or so I was made to believe. I longed to know my roots. I have so many questions. All my life John has been the father figure in my life. Heck, I thought he was my father at a point but the more I grew up the more obvious his resentment was. I learned he wasn't my father when I was seven because he constantly told me how he hated my guts and how they didn't just let me die.

 I guess I’m the replica of my father, from my ocean blue eyes and silver hair that glows now and then which remains a mystery to me, down to my round full pink lips that attract punishment to me. I think this explains the pelt-up loathe John has for me because every time he looks into my eyes, he becomes agitated. it was as if he was staring at the spitting image of my father. And whenever I asked my mom she always snapped at me and her eyes filled with tears.

 I wake up each day to the echoes of silence, surrounded by the cold walls of neglect. My step-family, barely notice me. Loneliness wraps around me like a suffocating cloak, reminding me of my insignificance. It's as if I'm invisible, forgotten in the shadows of their affection for each other. At times it felt like my mother wasn't truly mine. I feel a disconnection from her. I have so many unanswered questions. The more I age, her eyes told a different story. She never looked at me how a mother looks at her child. There was no warmth in it. It always felt like I was a burden she couldn't get rid of. After all, the eyes never lie.

 The ache in my heart grows with every passing day, yearning for a connection, for love. But amidst the disappontment, a flicker of hope still managed to emerge. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for me to find my light, to rise above the despair and discover my worth but I'm not so sure about that either.

 Because even the little “hope” I had was snatched away from me just a few minutes ago just like how my dreams, passions, and better still, my identity were all snatched from me. It was too much for me to bear on my little shoulders.

 As for my mother, she always avoids my gaze and I really wish it is because the guilt is eating her from the inside watching how John slowly ruins me way beyond repair, taking a piece of me with him each day. When I first complained to her and asked why John physically abuse me, she only shrugged it off, not because she didn’t have an answer but rather because the ‘love’ she has for him has blinded her eyes completely, she’d only say “Don’t be a brat, he was kind enough to take you, another’s man child in and for that, you should be grateful” how could I comprehend that when I was just a child, not knowing my right from left.

 She always convinced me that it was his way of “discipline”. But at that time, I knew something was off. If that was just mere ‘discipline’, why didn’t he discipline Emily the same way since she commits all sorts of atrocities? The abuse only grew worse gradually, it started from simple bad-mouthing to starvation, to little shoving, and beatings to everything overall.

 I felt a sudden intrusion as I sat on the edge of my bed making me snap out instantly from my daydream. Emily, my step-sister, barged in with a smirk that could rival the Cheshire cat's.