Sold To The Alphas I Hate novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Bit His Arm

Roman’s POV

Though I had told my mate-brother that I would have nothing to do with her, that whether she lived or died had nothing to do with me, I still couldn’t help but feel concerned the moment I heard her painful screams.

My heart nearly stopped.

Without thinking, without hesitation, I ran to her room as if I was responding to the innate instinct buried deep within me. I didn’t question it—I just moved.

The other four followed behind, but I was the first to reach the door. And the moment I stepped into the room, I froze. My chest tightened. My heart dropped.

Eira was sunk against the headboard, screaming her throat out. Her legs were folded, knees drawn up as she tried to push herself farther back, but there no space behind. One hand clutched her ear as if trying to block out the world, the other hand struggled violently to free itself to free from the metal handcuff. She didn’t seem to care that her skin was being torn raw by the metal cuff and it was bleeding.

Her entire body was trembling. Her hands. Her fingers. Even the way she breathed—it was all chaos and terror.

She looked petrified. Like she had seen a demon claw its way out of hell and crawl into her room. And she wasn’t even aware of where she was. Of who was around her.

Her legs were exposed, and I caught sight of new wounds along her thighs. Fresh. Painful. She looked even worse than when I’d seen her just a day before.

What the hell had these four done to her?

Liam was by her side, trying to calm her down.

"Eira, it’s me," he said softly. "Open your eyes. Look at me. You’re safe now."

But she didn’t hear him. Or maybe she did and just couldn’t process it. All that came out of her were screams—weak, hoarse, but unrelenting.

"Liam, what happened to her?" I asked, my voice low, tense.

He didn’t even look at me when he responded. "Ask your brothers," he said coldly.

I turned to look at the four standing behind me. Their expressions had changed—from initial shock to indifference.

"She’s just doing it to look pitiful," Lucian said, his tone dismissive. "She wants attention. That’s all."

I frowned, staring at him in disbelief, then shifted my gaze to Kael. It was written all over Lucian and Jason’s faces—they’d done something.

"They went overboard with torturing her," Kael said flatly. "I’ve punished them already."

Of course he had. But in the end, no matter what, he would still take their side.

In that moment, I regretted it. I regretted the decision to walk away in anger. To leave her behind with these demons. I regretted not having the patience to stay when she wanted to die.

What if something truly happened to her now?

What if I lost her all over again?

She was a sinner—yes. But she didn’t deserve this.

I ignored the others and turned to Liam. "What should we do now?"

"I need to inject this medicine to calm her down," he replied, preparing the syringe with practiced hands. "But I’ll need you to hold her still."

"Alright," I said, stepping toward the bed, calm and careful.

"Just hold her right thigh steady," Liam added. "Don’t trap her like she’s some kind of wild animal. It’ll only make things worse for her mental situation."

I gave Liam a silent signal to proceed.

He stepped forward, syringe in hand, and aimed for her thigh. I held it tight, steady.

But just as he was about to inject her, Eira’s head snapped toward me—and her teeth sank deep into my arm.

I didn’t flinch.

If biting me helped her stay calm, then so be it. Let her bite.

Liam didn’t waste the opportunity. He quickly injected the sedative into her thigh. Once it was done, he spoke calmly, "You can release her now."

I looked at her.

Her head was lowered, still latched onto my arm. Her teeth had broken skin, and I could feel the warm trail of blood on my skin. But I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to startle her.

Instead, I used my free hand to gently support the back of her head. Her body slowly started to relax as the medicine took effect. Bit by bit, her jaw loosened. Her grip weakened. Only then did I carefully ease my arm away so I could lay her in bed.

I moved her with care and lay her in mattress gently as if she’d shatter under pressure. Her hair was stuck to her skin, soaked in sweat from the screaming and fear. I brushed it back softly.

Her face—pale, frightened, broken, it hurt to see her like this. It truly hurt.

I shifted her hair stuck to her neck, revealing the marks on her neck. Angry, red welts. Some fresh. Some already bruising. My jaw clenched as I lowered the neckline of her gown and found even more.

These assholes. I cursed under my breath.