04

Kayla

As I trudged down the street like an abandoned pup, my mind was in a haze. The inventions that had played out a few minutes ago, felt like a dream to me. It did not seem plausible that I was the mate of the great alpha Aiden. It was something that sounded absurd.

But I felt it, the connection, and the spark. I felt everything to my bones. Every cell in my body screamed that he was my mate and no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

But why me? Why was I chosen? I did not fancy the fact that my long-time mate was alpha Aiden, but what could I do? I let out a long exasperated sigh as I began to mull over how this new interaction was going to affect my life.

And then something clicked.

Being alpha Aiden's mate will come with some benefits. Aside from his wealth and status, there was something else that would be of use to me. His popularity.

For years I had been stuck with no way of finding those men that had taken pleasure in violating my body because of the little to no connections I had around the pack. But if I were to become his mate officially, I would have all the connections I need, and finding those vile men would be a piece of cake.

But at that instant, I recalled the announcement the alpha had made. His son Aiden would be getting married to Cynthia Julian. Cynthia was well known in the pack as a very beautiful and strong woman.

Her looks were top tier, and me, a lowly mute and stealer, could not compete with that. I recalled the image of Cynthia Julian, standing next to Aiden, and to be frank, they looked perfect, like they belonged to each other.

They were both stunningly attractive, and those getting married made more sense than Aiden getting married to me. I sighed and shook my head. I could not use Aiden to my benefit, so I needed to find another alternative. But how?

The people I had managed to ask questions, either shunned me, or could not understand sign language. I suddenly felt frustration build up within me. At this rate, I was not going to find these men, and it angered me to the core.

It enraged me, knowing that these men were living their lives to the fullest, while I suffered because of what they had done to me. My burning anger slowly dissipated, and it slowly turned to sadness.

My situation was indeed pitiful, but I refused to loathe myself in self-pity.

Exhaling, my eyes scanned the streets. The moon was full, shining down on the dusty road as I walked. Leaves occasionally floated by, easing my loneliness. Crickets chirped in the background, and although their sounds were annoying, I was grateful for it.

As I walked further down the main, quiet road, my eyes fell on a large tree on the left side of the road. It was a large oak tree, which had leaves, but they had gone completely dry. The leaves were making their way to the ground, making a pool at the base.

I walked up to the tree, my eyes fixed on it absentmindedly. This was a way for me to buy time before going back home. That home that I once cherished now felt like a hell hole to me. The good memories I had made in the house were not replaced with bad ones.

The verbal abuse I got from my stepfather and my mother, the stigmatization, everything was etched in every corner of the house.

A leaf fell from the tree and danced into my hand. The moment it came down into my palm, memories began flashing back into my head. The night I was violated, I have vivid memories of seeing a tree just like this one.

Out of curiosity, I turned my head back and my heart sunk when it fell in a dark alleyway. I recognized it all too well. It was the same alley way that those men had taken me one by one without any remorse.

I shuddered from the memory, my eyes still fixed on the alleyway. I needed to leave.

I bolted away from the tree and down the street without looking back. I ran as much as my legs could carry me, and I did not stop until I reached my destination, home.

I stopped running; my hands on my knees as I sought to catch my breath desperately. My lungs were burning as I breathed in and out. Sweat trickled down my face and pooled down my neck.

After catching my breath, I walked up to the front door and twisted the door knob. To my surprise, the door did not budge. It was locked.

Was no one home?

Everyone had gone to the party, and I had left rather early, so it was quite understandable that they were not home yet. I walked over to the window beside the front door and peered inside. Those dainty glasses, I sighted my stepfather, lounging on the sofa, staring at the TV. The living room was dark, but the light emanating from the TV illuminated him and his features.

His large pot belly hung loose in front of him. He was shirtless, with a bottle of wine in his hand. On the table in front of him were two empty bottles of wine. I assumed he had chugged them down. My stepfather was an alcoholic, so that assumption was plausible.

My eyes trailed to his face and I saw how flushed it was. He could barely keep his eyes open. My nose wrinkled as I stared at this man. He was the definition of a pathetic man.

I always wondered why my mother married such a man. After my father passed away, my mom was plunged into a sea of depression. She would not eat, sleep, or even leave her room. But after she found my stepfather, she changed.

She would go out more, the color in her skin came back, and overall, she looked happier, and had returned to her old self. At first, I did not support their relationship, but seeing as my mother was happy being with him, I had no objections.

She eventually got married to him, and everything seemed to be going well, until Josh was born. I got less attention, but it did not bother me. My mother still loved me regardless.

But it all changed after I got defiled, and then I became mute. My mother saw me as an eyesore, coupled with the fact that I was a stealer.

I sighed and brushed away those memories. The house was locked, but I had an alternative entrance. I made my way to the back of the house and pushed the back door open.

Although I hated the fact that I had to stay in the same house alone with that man, I had no choice. I could not stay out here, it was rather chilly tonight.

The back door was old and rusty, and the lock was broken, which made it easy to access. My stepfather and mother had paid no heed to the door, and left it like that for months.

I slipped into the house through the back door, and I could hear the TV blaring from the living room. Why did he have to turn it up so loudly?

I wanted to avoid interacting with him as much as possible, so I began to tiptoe down the corridor. Unfortunately for me, the old floorboards creaked underneath me, making a loud noise.

"Huh? Who the fuck is there?" Greg grunted.

I cursed underneath my breath and decided to ignore him, but he called out again.

"Is that you, you useless girl? Come in here," he commanded.

I could not disobey him. Disobedience meant that I would get beaten, and I did not want to think about that. I appeared at the entrance of the living room, a frown on my face.

"What are you doing here, huh? Aren't you supposed to be back at the ceremony?" He slurred on his words as he eyed me.

I grabbed my arm, my eyes averting away from him. I did not say a word, I figured that angered him.

I heard the sofa creak, and my head snapped at him. He was walking towards me, and at that moment, all the hair on the back of my neck stood erect.

I took a few steps back as he approached me. Why was he coming closer? As I made an attempt to bolt away from him and out of the house, he grabbed a hold of my arm, slamming me down to the wall.

His body was a few inches away from mine, and I could smell the alcohol on him. I grimaced, my heart racing.

"Have you always smelt this good?" He growled. His nose trailed my neck.

No, I did not want this at all. Tears began to stream down my face; my sobs muffled my inability to speak.

Someone, help me.