Hunted by the Feral Alpha Read online

  Sophia heard the sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor. And the fear returned in waves, crashing over her and crushing any other emotion in its wake.

  Jason appeared at the edge of the light. She knew logically that a real man hid under that mask, but that didn’t stop her from thinking of him as the monster whose face he wore. The cold way that he stared her down did nothing to impair the image.

  He approached her silently and she realized with a start that he wasn’t alone. Freddy stood just behind him, sunken into the shadows, only his eyes alight with a feral glow.

  “W-What are you doing?” Sophia asked, unable to keep her voice from trembling.

  Jason didn’t answer, but bent down to remove the shackles at her ankles. His movements were methodical and deliberate, as if there weren’t a real person under his hands. There was none of the mocking cruelty from before when they had made her cry for that video.

  Somehow, his calm only terrified her more.

  When her legs were free, his hands moved to the handcuffs around her wrists. She thought briefly about trying to fight him, kicking or kneeing him someplace sensitive. But she couldn’t even pretend that she was the hero, even in her own mind. Fighting wasn’t worth angering them, not given how small her chances were for escape. The smartest thing to do was to cooperate and wait for an opportunity, or at least that was what she told herself because the alternative was that she was simply too much of a coward.

  She hated her own weakness.

  Because that pretty much summed up her entire life, didn’t it? Just comply, just do what you’re told and everything will be fine. She had spent the last twenty-one years of her life training to be the perfect captive.

  Jason made quick work of the cuffs as Sophia became more discomfited by his prolonged silence.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as he levered her up on her feet, even though she knew he was unlikely to respond.

  So she wasn’t surprised when, instead of answering, he dragged her out of the light and into the darkness. Corded muscles tightened in his arms as he propelled her in front of him. His steps remained sure-footed even as they plunged briefly into black, as if the darkness made no difference to him.

  Sophia could barely see in front of her as he pushed her forward, hands on her upper arms turned her this way and that as they navigated past unidentifiable shapes in the dark.

  Somehow, it made sense to her that he would be comfortable in the dark.

  She couldn’t see Freddy but heard his heavy footsteps echoing theirs as he followed.

  They entered a room that was well-lit compared to where they had kept her before; the sudden change made her eyes burn slightly as she adjusted to being able to see again. A bare lightbulb hung over a small wooden table in the center of the room. The table contained only four items: a dusty glass bottle next to a hazy shot glass, a leather belt, and a blowtorch.

  Her heart beat hard enough that it seemed capable of exploding out of her chest. Jason pushed her down onto one of the two chairs at the table, then took a seat across from her. He rested his arms on the table and leaned forward. There was no hint of emotion in the overly bright eyes behind his mask.

  And somehow she knew that he was about to do something terrible.

  Silence stretched between them as he did little more than stare at her, something unrecognizable shifting across his eyes. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “What is this?”

  The other man—the one in the Michael mask—stepped out of the shadows. He was so quiet that she didn’t even notice he was in the room. The video camera was in his hands, the little red light letting her know that it was recording.

  “We’re going to cut off one of your fingers.” Jason’s voice was calm and almost conversational, like this was the most normal thing in the world to be talking about. “Do you want to choose which one?”

  “You can’t be serious.” She tried to stand but Freddy moved up behind her, almost too fast for her to follow the movement, and pressed her back down into the chair. Michael had shifted to block the only exit. “Please, no. Why are you doing this?”

  It has to be a joke, she thought frantically. This was another tactic they were using to frighten her so that her reactions would be convincing for the camera. But when Jason pulled the knife out of its sheath on his hip, she forgot how to breathe.

  The knife reminded her of the one her father had bought when they took a family trip to Australia. He’d wanted to look rustic and manly like their bush guide. This knife was the sort of thing people had to look tough, not actually use.

  Except Jason didn’t have the demeanor of someone who was making idle threats or just wanted to look tough. He set the knife down on the table and cracked his knuckles like someone who was preparing to go to work. The blade glinted dully in the low light, looking old and well-used.

  “Don’t do this.” Freddy was using more weight than necessary to keep her still and she let out an involuntary sound of pain. Jason narrowed his eyes and made a slight jerk with his head, the pressure immediately eased. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

  “Nondominant hand, sweetheart. It’s the best that I can do.” Jason picked up the belt and started stroking the knife against it, sharpening the blade. “Most people pick the pinkie, but you should probably go with the ring finger. That won’t affect your grip as much. But like I said, it’s lady’s choice.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” Sophia didn’t realize she was crying until hot trails of tears rolled down her cheeks. “My father will give you what you want.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Jason poured clear liquid from the bottle into the shot glass. “You drink? It’ll make this a little easier for you.”

  “Just let me talk to my dad,” she begged, voice thick with snot and tears. “Please. I can convince him to give you what you want.”

  Jason just shook his head and pushed the shot glass across the table. “No go, honey. Drink up. Drawing this out will just make it worse.”

  She almost got the feeling that he was trying to be nice, but there was a glint in his eyes that he seemed to be trying to hide. And it looked like enjoyment. Before it felt like he was just torturing her for the hell of it, but now his control seemed hard won. As if this neutrality were a compromise that he had made with himself.

  Or maybe he was just a sadistic bastard who liked messing with her head.

  “Do I have to tie you down or are you going to cooperate?” he asked softly, voice void of all emotion. “This is going to happen either way.”

  Freddy’s hands moved up from her shoulders and closer to her neck, squeezing harder than was necessary to keep her in place. It was clearly a warning. She hated him the most.

  “Don’t do this.” Sophia was so tired of begging, but what else was there for her to do? She had been robbed of any true agency since the moment they took her. “I have my own bank account. I can get you money.”

  Jason bowed his head to hide his expression. She could only imagine that he was laughing at her. “Would it be easier if you were unconscious? There’s probably still some chloroform left.”

  Did she want to wake up in excruciating pain with a mangled hand? No. And if she passed out then there would be nothing left to stop them from doing their worst. Part of her was still convinced that there was something she could say or do to end this.

  “I can help you,” she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “You said you want information. I can help you get it.”

  “She’s just stalling.” Freddy’s fingers squeezed tight on her shoulders, robbing her of breath.

  “Drink.” Jason nodded at the glass. “Last chance.”

  Sophia grabbed for the shot glass but her fingers were shaking too bad to hold it. Liquid sloshed out of the sides and ran down her fingers. This sort of thing wouldn’t be any easier once one of those fingers was gone.

  Oh God.

  Jason steadied her hands with the tips of his fingers
so she could bring the glass to her lips without spilling it. Even through her terror, his touch caused a jolt of electricity to run through her.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Another one.” He poured a second shot and brought it to her lips. With him at the front and Freddy at her back, Sophia’s only choice was whether to swallow or spit it back out at them.

  She drank. Warm liquid burned like fire as it slid down her throat and settled into a slow burn in the pit of was stomach. It wasn’t the first time that she’d had liquor. She still remembered sneaking a taste of rum punch out of the bowl at a Christmas party when she was ten. But this stuff was different: it was rough and heavy on the tongue then hit lower like a punch to the gut.

  She squeezed her hands into fists, as if that would do anything but briefly slow them down. “Just tell me why you’re doing this.”

  “I’m not sure that your father understands how serious we are.” Jason nodded to Freddy, who grabbed her left hand and forced it down on the table. “He will when we start sending him pieces.”

  The quiet certainty in his voice, heavy with something that almost sounded like pity, was what did it.

  Sophia started hyperventilating. It was just like when she had asthma attacks as a kid. Her throat closed and her breathing came in harsh, wheezing gasps. She couldn’t get enough air. Her lungs squeezed hard in a desperate gasp for oxygen.

  “What the fuck—”

  “She’s freaking out.”

  She gripped the edge of the table as the edges of her vision went black. Her chest felt tight and her heart beat so hard that she worried it would burn itself out. It felt like she was having a heart attack or drowning.

  All she knew was that she was dying.

  There was a flurry of movement. Strong hands wrapped around her wrists as someone pressed against her from behind. Somehow she knew it was Jason before the synthesized voice reverberated against her ear.

  “Calm down,” he said. “Just breathe.”

  Sophia let out the long breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding. His chest pressed against her back. She tried to inhale but only a high-pitched wheezing sound escaped her throat. No air was getting in. She started to panic again.

  “Slower.” The word rumbled against her back as he pressed into her. “Take each breath as slow as you can. It’s just a panic attack.”

  Just a panic attack. Like she didn’t have good reason to be losing her mind. This was the man who wanted to cut off her finger, she reminded herself. As the steady beat of his heart thrummed against her back, she found herself unwillingly matching her breathing to his. The rise of his chest forced her lungs to expand as if he were breathing for her.

  It was too intimate.

  That tendril of connection that she’d felt since the beginning was suddenly like a line of unspoken communication between them. She understood something about him that she hadn’t until this very moment.

  He was like a man split in two, full of warring desires. That intuition that had been a gift from her dead mother whispered in her ear like a ghost.

  Part of him hated the idea of hurting her. But there was another part, and that piece of him wanted her screaming. And the war between those disparate desires would eventually tear him apart. She had to help him keep that horrible impulse at bay, or they would both suffer for it.

  She had to save him to save herself.

  Jason must have noticed that she was calmer. He dropped his hands as if something burned him and moved away from her, back to the other side of the table. She could feel him watching to see if she would panic again.

  The time for panicking was over, she realized with a new determination. Her fear and pain wasn’t going to stop this. A pang went through her as she wondered what they must have experienced to be so immune to another person’s pain. But she quickly pushed the thought aside. It was herself that she should spend her time worrying about. If her pain wouldn’t change their minds, then she had to think of something else that would.

  “Enough,” Freddy snapped as Jason settled back into his chair. He grabbed her shoulders in a punishing grip. “Let’s just get this done.”

  She hated him.

  “Wait,” she snapped, voice full of more anger than fear. To her surprise, Jason hesitated while reaching for the knife. “You want something from my dad, right? Not money, but something else?”

  Jason waved Freddy back and the excruciating pressure on her shoulders eased a bit.

  “Information,” he said shortly.

  “Extortion, then.” She saw the answer in his eyes. She had no idea what her father could possibly know that was this important. He had spent his entire life playing a game of holier-than-them-all. “I’m guessing he didn’t respond to your threats the way you wanted.”

  Jason leveled a narrow gaze at her. “If you can call announcing his presidential candidacy a response.”

  She suppressed a little start of surprise. Her father had to have gone to the police. News of her disappearance should be broadcasting on every station nonstop. “You’re lying.”

  He shrugged like it didn’t really matter to him what she thought. “Did you pick a finger?”

  “Just listen for a minute,” she insisted, cursing herself as her voice broke. “You don’t know my father. He’s stubborn. He won’t respond to threats of violence.”

  “And what will he respond to?”

  “My father’s whole political platform is based on traditional family values. It’s been drilled into my head since I was a kid—no booze, no drugs, no sex until you’re married. It’s why he sent me to a Christian private school that separates classes by gender and will expel you if you’re caught kissing someone of the opposite sex. The dorm even has an eight o’clock curfew…”

  Sophia realized that she was rambling.

  Jason played with the hilt of the knife. “Get to the point, sweetheart.”

  She couldn’t quite believe that she was about to put this thought into words. It was almost too terrible to contemplate. But it was this or a body part, she reminded herself.

  “The one thing that my father fears most is public embarrassment.” She swallowed hard and fought the urge to just tell them to take her finger. “If you threatened to release a video of me in some sort of compromising position… my dad would definitely respond to that.”

  Freddy made a choked sound that almost sounded like a laugh. “Compromising how? Like sex?”

  She could feel the angry flush begin to rise up her face as she blushed. “Something like that, yeah.”

  Freddy was laughing and the voice changer made the sound harsh and synthetic. “I think she’s offering to suck our dicks.”

  Her face was on fire. “Don’t be gross.”

  “It was your idea, Mother Superior.”

  “And not you. Just him.”

  Jason wasn’t laughing. The gaze he leveled at her was speculative, considering.

  Freddy noticed it too. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

  “We can always take her finger later if it doesn’t work.” Jason looked at her and his expression was completely unreadable. “We can try it her way first.”

  Sophia couldn’t decide if she was more relieved or terrified.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a terrible fucking idea.

  Hunt knew that and could tell from the incredulous look in Savage’s eyes that he knew it too. But what was he supposed to do? If there was any chance that the girl was right and they could get the information they needed without cutting her up, why not try?

  Even his beast regarded the thought of fucking her with satisfaction, thrusting hard enough to rip into her with the force of it, making her gag on his cock until the effort caused her to vomit up bile. If the beast couldn’t kill her then it wanted to destroy her in whatever way it could.

  And even the still-human part of him had been thinking about what her mouth might feel like on his dick since almost the moment that h
e first laid eyes on her.

  Savage didn’t want to leave the room, so Hunt had to practically force him out, only possible with the promise that he could watch the video later. Chase simply handed the camera over but the message in his silent gaze was unmistakable.

  Be careful.

  Hunt was sure he would get an earful after they locked her back up and could talk again freely. Chase had always had old-fashioned ideas about women and how they were supposed to be treated, even with the beast that tortured them all whispering in his ear.

  And then he was finally alone with the girl. Although neither of them seemed eager to break the silence.

  She still sat on her side of the table, hands primly folded in her lap and legs crossed at the ankle. Her long hair was pushed forward to obscure her features and hung down almost to her waist. An aura of virginal sweetness surrounded her, although that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. She was trying to hide and the perverse part of him didn’t want to let her.

  He shouldn’t enjoy this. Hunt was able to at least acknowledge that. He knew that it was sick and wrong to take advantage of an innocent girl.

  But he was going to enjoy it, and not just because it would keep the beast at bay for a little longer.

  This was her idea, after all. And it saved him from having to cut off the girl’s finger and mail it to her piece-of-shit father. Why should he feel bad?

  And if he said it enough, then maybe he’d actually start to believe it.

  She was very carefully not looking at him, eyes trained on her lap where her fingers worried at each other.

  Hunt tipped the bottle of vodka toward her. “You want another one? It might help.”

  She shook her head and glared up at him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  He picked up the camera and pretended to inspect it. “You ever suck a dick before?”

  The look on her face was glacial. “What do you think?”

  “No chances to sneak away with some lucky young guy at that nunnery of yours?”

  “I’m not that kind of girl.”