TRAPPED BY THE FEMALE ALPHA

Chapter 4

Violeta's POV

The first thing I registered was the taste of blood in my mouth and the way my entire body ached as I tried to move.

Where was I?

The room swam into focus—dim lighting, rough wooden walls, the faint smell of damp earth.

"She doesn't look so tough now, does she?"

The voice was unfamiliar, sharp and mocking, cutting through the haze in my mind. I turned my head—slowly, painfully—and saw two men standing near the door, their faces shadowed but their hostility clear.

"Alpha said she'd be a fighter," the other one said, his voice quieter, more cautious. "Maybe we hit her too hard."

Alpha. That word again.

My mind raced as fragments of memory started piecing themselves together—the blood oath, my sister's name on her lips, my fury exploding like wildfire. I had attacked her, hadn't I? And now… now I was here.

"Where am I?" I croaked, my voice barely audible over the pounding in my skull.

The first man laughed. "You'll find out soon enough. Sit tight, sweetheart. The Alpha's not done with you yet."

"Can I at least get some water?" I croaked out, my voice raspy, barely more than a whisper. I was too tired to fight back, my body aching from everything they'd put me through.

The shorter man snickered, his face twisted into a smug grin. "You can drink my piss if you want," he taunted, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.

I glared at him, imagining sinking my teeth into something other than words if he even thought of trying it. I was about to respond, but before I could, the door swung open, and someone else stepped in.

A man. Tall, broad-shouldered, and blank-faced, like a brick wall. His eyes scanned me—cold, calculating, like I was just another item on a list.

"Stand up," he ordered, his voice flat.

Great. Just what I needed—more demands. But I couldn't keep my body from moving, not when I was too drained to resist. I pushed myself up, swaying on my feet like I was a walking corpse.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me roughly out of the room. I didn't have the energy to fight, but I still resisted, planting my feet, trying to slow him down. It didn't work.

He dragged me down a narrow hall, and we stopped in front of a door. The bathroom. Or what passed for one. The smell hit me first—mold, mildew, something rotten. Perfect.

The man twisted the shower knob, and brownish water sputtered out, more a dribble than a stream. "Undress and bathe," he said, his voice flat like he was reading from a manual.

I froze, not sure if I was disgusted more by the filthy water or the look in his eyes.

When I didn't move fast enough, he stepped closer, his face turning serious. "Don't make me say it again."

I took a breath, forcing my hands to obey as I started undressing. Slowly. The last thing I wanted was for him to "help" me.

I glanced up, just enough to catch him watching. I knew that look. No shame. No hesitation. Just... waiting.

I could feel the water hitting me, icy and unpleasant.

I clenched my jaw, trying not to let the humiliation get to me. My fingers trembled as I reached for the soap, washing away the grime, trying to ignore how he stood there, like he was the only thing in the room.

At least the water was cold enough to distract me from the rest of this nightmare. I focused on that. On the pain. Anything but him.

As I scrubbed my arms, I couldn't help but think—God, if I make it through this, I'm never taking a bath again. Ever.

I shut my eyes, trying to block out the sound of his steady breathing. The thought of him watching me made my skin crawl, but I was too tired, too broken to care anymore.

"Better?" he asked, his tone detached, like he was talking about a dog he just gave a bath.

I didn't respond.

After a long, unnerving silence, he spoke again, his voice much closer now.

"Get out of the shower," he ordered.

It wasn't a suggestion. His voice held that finality in it again, like he expected me to comply without question.

He reached for a rough towel, throwing it around my shoulders. I winced as it scratched against my skin, but I kept quiet. The last thing I needed was to anger him more.

"Dress," he muttered, tossing me a pile of clothes that smelled like cheap detergent. When I was done, he led me out from the narrow corridor, through the basement, and into the house itself. I recognized the sitting room, but we didn't stop there.

We kept going. He took me up the grand staircase, and I felt like a rat in a trap.

At the top of the stairs, he opened a door to a room, shut it behind me, and left.

I stood there, still trying to piece together what was happening. I didn't know how long I stood there, just staring at the door, when a voice broke the silence.

"It's nice to see you again, Violeta."

I froze. I recognized the voice. It was her. Quinn. Funny how she had been my boss at the office less than 24 hours ago.

I turned, my pulse spiking. She was there, standing just a few steps away. A smirk twisted her lips, and my stomach churned.

"Undress and get on the bed. You have a lot to learn"

My throat went dry. I took in the chains attached to the bedposts, and a shiver ran down my spine

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but the fear clawed at me. "No," I whispered.

Her eyes darkened, her expression shifting, but she didn't move. Instead, she waited, watching me like I was some kind of puzzle she was waiting to solve.

Then slowly she began to undress, shedding her clothes piece by piece until she stood before me, bare and gleaming under the dim light, her body an unsettling blend of power and grace.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and without a word, she reached for the flimsy nightgown I wore, peeling it off with a slow, calculating motion.

Her cool hands subtly brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. And when her lips found my breast, my breath hitched.

Her fingers trailed down my thighs, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from my throat. I couldn't stop it. The heat that pooled in my thighs was foreign.

A part of me wanted this.

But the rest of me… the rest of me was screaming to escape.