99 Times for Alpha’s Bestie novel Chapter 18

I was hauled unceremoniously into a black commercial van.

“Where are you taking me?” I rasped, mustering the last dregs of her strength.

“Our apologies, Mrs. Sterling,” one muttered, avoiding my gaze. “Ms. Telder is fighting for her life. Alpha Henry Sterling is furious. He’s invoking pack discipline for an attack on a rank family member unjustly–you’re to be confined to the dungeon for reflection.”

So, my torment within the Sterling family wasn’t over.

These were Henry’s warriors. I had misjudged everything. Henry’s fondness for Breanne matched that of everyone else. In the end, she was the pitiful outsider, Breanne, their cherished pearl–the daughter of Henry’s deceased Beta.

Jostled by the van’s movement, I drifted in and out, fragmented memories surfacing.

I remembered the naive joy of joining the Sterling Moon pack for the first time.

I had spent four years of competition winnings on a rare Royal Crested Armour set for Henry. In five years, I have never seen it displayed with his other collectibles to be admired.

I had painstakingly researched beauty products for Stephanie, sending them diligently to the old estate, only to overhear servants whisper that Stephanie deemed them cheap, fit only for the cats. Speculating that they were laced with poison to harm her wolf.

I had genuinely tried with Breanne, too, giving her expensive makeup sets or coveted dresses without hesitation.

I had truly wanted to warm the Sterling hearts, in hopes of belonging. But slowly, I came to understand that an outsider remains an outsider. No mating bond could scale the Sterling Alpha family walls.

I was dumped like a sack onto cold, damp concrete with a sickening thud. The metallic tang of blood filled my nose.

I cracked my eyes open, greeted only by suffocating blackness.

There was the Sterling Moon pack dungeon.

So, here it was, my new reality. On my 27th birthday, I was locked away by Alpha Henry Sterling, my father–in–law.

Why? Because I defended the defiled body of my miscarried pup.

My face itched. I wiped my tears. I tried to push myself up, but a low, guttural snarl froze my blood. My eyes flew wide in terror.

I knew that sound–the Sterling guard hound.

These guard hounds were wolves found in the woods, and they were conditioned to direct their feral aggression at prisoners locked in the deepest dungeon cells. The Sterlings assigned their fierce pets only to the most treacherous prisoners.

Typically, those assigned to terrorize rogues caught trespassing in the packlands. These prisoners would soon be sentenced to death. It was unnecessary torment, in my opinion.

Every hair stood on end. I didn’t dare breathe, closing my eyes in despair.

My phone was gone. No lifeline. I let out a ragged sigh, my body limp as a boned fish on the cold ground.

This waiting–to–die despair was familiar–not the first time I have been unjustly locked away in a dark cell in an attempt to break me.

My mind flashed back to the day the four rogue males attempted to kidnap me, the day Liam sent me for the cake. Their claws sliced her legs and arms, demanding ransom calls–over a dozen calls to Liam. No answer. When they grew impatient, deciding to violate me, they tore at my dress.

I had screamed. Then, he came my dark hero.

He lunged from out of nowhere and took down all four men single–handedly. Lifting me from the muddy ground I was pressed into, he carried me on his back until we got back to the road.

Without him- and I never knew his name or face; he kept it hidden. Only the faint scent of pine lingered.

Back to the cold reality, where there was no rescuer in sight. The Sterling Moon pack was an impenetrable fortress.

As time went on, I grew colder. Shivering violently, I wrapped my arms around myself, teeth clenched, holding on.

My mother’s words echoed, ‘When it’s too much, just sleep. Nothing is too big. All you need is a good rest.‘ Slowly, I forced my eyes shut, falling into oblivion.

Consciousness barely flickered now. I felt my body shutting down slowly, weakening as time passed. Throughout my time here, I heard the hound next door being exercised and fed three times a day.

The rich smell of roast beef drifted through the wall. Yet I, the mate of the Alpha, was treated as worthless. In the Sterling Moon pack, my life meant less than a hound’s.

No food. No water. Trembling with hunger, vision blurring with thirst, every cell screamed for moisture. Days began to blur together, and I had no idea how long I had been locked in this dungeon cell.

I felt death closing in on me, however. I was starting to hallucinate, carrying on full conversations with people I knew who were long deceased, but they were there with me.

Finally, the door creaked open.

I struggled to lift my eyelids. Stephanie stood there. Three warriors rushed in.

I was forced to my knees. My head was yanked up by one of the guards, who was grasping my greasy, matted hair.

A dozen vicious punches to my face rained down on me. My hearing rang violently, and my dimming vision was spinning out of control. I slumped lifelessly against the warrior’s hold.

My body was then yanked brutally from the room and dragged back towards the packhouse. Pain exploded; it felt like my bones had shattered.

I gasped, a raw sound of agony, but an icy voice cut through pressed to the from above after I was cold tiles of the conference room for privacy.

“Five days starving and a dozen punches to the face is getting off light. If Breanne dies because of you, I’ll take your miserable life myself–by my own hand!”

I clenched my jaw. I tried to speak, but no sound emerged. Thirst burned my throat; hunger hollowed me. My body was at its limit.

Pure survival instinct made my hand scrabble weakly at Stephanie’s tailored pants leg.

“Kill me! I dare you!” I whispered, the words barely audible.

Stephanie kicked my hand away as if dislodging vermin, then brushed her pants fastidiously. “Useless,” she spat. “Your time will come, but not until you release my son’s wolf.”

I knew it. They can’t kill me as long as I wear Liam’s mate mark. It would weaken his wolf and the pack if they did.

Someone threw a basin of cold water over me. Even through Stephanie’s mocking laughter and the shout of “That’s foot–wash water, you wretch!”

I desperately licked the wet concrete, swallowing what I could. I had to survive. Survive to claim dignity, self–respect, never to be trampled again. Even that dirty water was life now.