Sacrificed To The Triplet Alpha Kings novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31: It’s Getting Worse

The silence that followed was the most honest thing any of them had said all night.

Because they all knew the answer.

A feral wolf during a full moon didn’t negotiate.

Didn’t hold back.

Didn’t remember agreements or contracts or payment schedules.

It took what it wanted and marked what it claimed and there was no reasoning with it.

And for four days, all three of their wolves had been completely, devastatingly focused on exactly one thing.

"We send her away," Nicholas said.

Both brothers looked at him.

"During the full moon," he continued. "We send her to the east wing. Lock it down. Guards on every entrance. She doesn’t come near us and we don’t go near her until it passes."

"And if our wolves lose control completely without her nearby?" Lucian asked.

"Then we deal with it ourselves." Nicholas’s jaw was tight. "Like we always have."

"It’s getting worse, Lucian said."

"I know. Sebastian responded"

"We need to be careful," Nicholas said. "She’s here for a reason. A month. Payment for a debt. That’s what she is to us."

"Is it?" Lucian looked at him.

"That’s what she has to be."

"You keep saying that," Sebastian said quietly. "And every time you say it, it sounds less true."

Nicholas looked at his brother for a long moment.

Then he picked up his whiskey. Drank it in one motion and set the glass down.

"We need to find that witch," Lucian said quietly. "The one from the record. Or at least find out which coven helped our ancestor and why. Because eleven years of stability didn’t come from good luck and iron discipline."

"Agreed," Nicholas said. "After the full moon. We dig deeper."

"And in the meantime?"

Nicholas looked toward the window. Toward the dark grounds beyond.

"In the meantime," he said quietly, "we have seven days to figure out how to be in the same estate as her without losing everything we’re trying to hold together and fucking her to death"

***

Seven days.

She counted them again, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, just to make sure she hadn’t lost track.

Seven days since the car pulled away from omega housing with her inside it.

Seven days since she’d come through those iron gates.

Seven days of hands and mouths and commands and the particular exhaustion that came from having your body treated like it belonged to someone else.

She looked at herself in the mirror and tried to recognize the girl looking back.

It was getting harder.

Her face was the same. Same dark eyes, same sharp jaw, same mouth that had learned to stay pressed shut when it wanted to say things that would only make everything worse.

But the rest of her told a different story.

The bruises had shifted color, the deep purples fading to greens and yellows at the edges, new ones layered over the healing ones like paint on canvas. Her hips bore the clearest evidence. Handprints, both sides, fingerprint-shaped bruises that mapped exactly how each of them held her when they wanted her still.

Bite marks on her shoulder. Her collarbone. The curve of her neck.

Inner thighs.

She looked at those the longest.

Seven days of this.

Twenty-three more to go.

She turned away from the mirror before the thought could finish forming into something she couldn’t push back down.

***

The bedroom was quiet.

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